The U.S. Army came into being by act of the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia on June 14, 1775. Some spoke of the “Continental Army,” with newly appointed Gen. George Washington of Virginia designated “to command all of the Continental forces.” Washington promptly addressed his new subordinates as “Troops of the United Provinces of North America.”

The newborn American Army lacked an official flag, a defined uniform and much in the way of organization or equipment. But the newly minted Continental Army soldiers already faced a powerful enemy: the tough redcoats of the acclaimed British Army, backed by the renowned sailors of the mighty Royal Navy. A big battle loomed. It just might decide the American Revolution before the Continental Army got going.

News in those days moved at the pace of a trotting horse, and roads were neither well-maintained nor safe, especially in the face of roving British Army patrols eager to waylay Patriot messengers. So, as of June 16, 1775, their formal designation as Continentals under the command of Washington was unknown to the 3,000 or so New England militiamen occupying the heights of the Charlestown Peninsula overlooking the British-held city of Boston. Dress was casual, to say the least. Men wore their day-to-day civilian clothing. But their muskets were clean and ready, with ball ammunition and gunpowder on hand.

Col. William Prescott commanded the American defenders entrenched on Breed’s Hill (62 feet above sea level), backed to his northwest by another contingent dug into Bunker Hill (110 feet up). These low hills didn’t seem like much. But together, the pair of rises dominated Boston to the south across the Charles River. If the upstart Americans held that high ground and added cannons, the British in Boston might find themselves being pummeled. Of course, that was the Patriot plan. The British thought otherwise.

No Respect

British Lt. Gen. Thomas Gage didn’t give much credit to his opposition. His spies told him that the American command included two major generals (Israel Putnam and Joseph Warren), four colonels (James Frye, Samuel Gerrish, James Reed and John Stark) and two rather important captains (Thomas Knowlton and engineer Richard Gridley). Including Prescott, that conglomerate—too many senior officers—amounted to a recipe for dissension. What else could you expect from amateurs? Dig they might. But these rude rebels could not hope to stand up to a direct assault by disciplined British Regulars.

It’s hard to critique Gage for his confidence. Trained troops rarely give much credit to ill-organized insurgents, especially when the latter consent to a conventional face-to-face clash.

Prescott’s main line on Breed’s Hill totaled 3,250 soldiers in eight regiments from Massachusetts, two regiments from New Hampshire and one from Connecticut. To his northwest, 421 men of the 25th Massachusetts Regiment occupied breastworks on Bunker Hill. Gerrish commanded. As British commander Gage suspected, cooperation between the Patriot contingents on Breed’s and Bunker hills was neither agreed nor rehearsed. The American officers would simply hang on and reinforce each other … maybe. Vital details went unspecified.

Readying Defenses        

The New Englanders turned dirt all night on June 16–17. Overseen by Gridley, by daybreak an earthen mound 6 feet tall fronted a stout trench on Breed’s Hill. Wooden firing platforms backed the dirt parapet. This made for a significant redoubt.

Dawn’s first light revealed the Patriot works to lookouts aboard the British 20-gun warship HMS Lively. The ship’s crew beat to quarters, and its gunners began to blast cannon balls at the industrious American militiamen. Construction ceased as the defending troops took cover. Had the British been ready to attack then with their redcoat infantry, they might have quickly overrun the Patriot field fortifications. But that wasn’t the plan; the British Army wasn’t ready to go yet. They’d run off this New Englander mob later.

In the meantime, Gage opted for a bombardment by 128 British Royal Navy cannons and a British Army gun battery, too. Given the range, the elevation of the target hills above sea level and the limited rates of fire of that era, most of the rounds went overhead or plowed harmlessly into piled-up soil.

The intermittent shooting killed one American and wrecked the Patriots’ fresh water supply, a problem once the day warmed up. But the desultory engagement did not stop Prescott’s soldiers from completing their emplacements.

Even as his supporting cannon crews banged away and the opposition kept on shoveling, Gage turned to his key associates. Maj. Gen. John Burgoyne scoffed at the “untrained rabble.” Maj. Gen. William Howe assured Gage that Breed’s Hill offered a slope “open and easy of ascent and in short would be easily carried.” No worries, boss. Send us in.

‘To the Gates of Hell’

One voice objected. Loyalist Abijah Willard well knew Prescott, who happened to be Willard’s brother-in-law. When Gage asked if the Americans would mount much of a defense, Willard replied with conviction: “As to his men, I cannot answer for them, but Colonel Prescott will fight you to the gates of hell.” Gage ignored Willard and went with his own instincts and the inclinations of Burgoyne and Howe. The British soldiers staged for action.

It took about six hours to align, board, ferry and then disembark an initial force of 1,500 British redcoats across the Charles River. Reinforcements brought the number of British troops to about 3,000. Brig. Gen. Robert Pigot led the major assault force aiming to squeeze by Breed’s Hill and strike Bunker Hill.

Royal Marine Maj. John Pitcairn—he’d seen action at Lexington and Concord, also in Massachusetts—commanded the secondary effort aimed right at Breed’s Hill. Harassed by rebel skirmishers in nearby Charlestown, the British set the buildings aflame, a rather cruel but effective way to secure that flank. In the mid-afternoon heat, the British regiments advanced in steady, dressed ranks, marching in step to the beat of drums. The redcoats meant business.

On the Patriot side, commanders issued orders. Some were obeyed. Others were not. Putnam and Knowlton both directed the Connecticut regiment and other nearby militia companies, too. Prescott told his men to stand fast, as did Stark. To aid his musket shooters, Stark hopped the barricade and ran out 100 feet. He pounded a stake into the ground. The message was clear. Once the British pass the stake, let ’em have it.

Somebody at this point shouted the famous admonition: “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.” Or not. Various sources credit the line to Prescott, Putnam or Stark. It didn’t matter. The Yankee gunmen knew the deal, as did anyone who’d ever fired a smoothbore musket. The slugs always drifted off-center.

Wait and fire when the target was too big to miss—say, a close-packed front of red-jacketed British troops at 50 paces.

British Collapse

The British closed the range, expecting their opponents to flee. A number did. Most did not. Instead, hundreds of American defenders leveled their muskets. A thunderous volley followed, flashing gunpowder, a cloud of choking dark-gray smoke and a hurricane of hot lead balls.

The British line staggered as if hit by a strong gust of wind. Redcoats collapsed. The neat alignment fell apart. A few British elements raised their Brown Bess muskets and returned fire. But those pesky rebels had ducked down behind their dirt ramparts.

Having taken heavy casualties, both Pigot and Pitcairn ordered withdrawals back down the slope. Their British rank and file were way ahead of them. Behind the departing survivors, dead and wounded red-clad regulars littered the tall grass.

Within minutes, Pigot and Pitcairn formed their men for another try. These Yankee ruffians had gotten lucky in the first round. But the ill-disciplined rebels wouldn’t stand a renewed British assault. Would they?

Indeed, they would.

The second attempt pushed right at Breed’s Hill. Despite some effective British volley fire by infantrymen arrayed shoulder to shoulder, the Americans held on. After a half-hour of back-and forth musket dueling, the British again pulled back.

Unfortunately, so did a lot of the New Englander militiamen. Several defenders blamed lack of gunpowder or musket balls. Others complained about parched throats. A good number simply moved out. Two clashes with these relentless British lobsterbacks was enough. Maybe 700 Patriots remained in the Breed’s Hill earthworks.

The third British attack succeeded, again at cost. Pitcairn of the Royal Marines went down, mortally hit. So did many others. But the British took Breed’s Hill and then, Bunker Hill, too.

High Costs

By the standards of 1775, securing the battlefield equaled victory. It cost the British Army 226 soldiers killed and 828 wounded. In the rueful words of British Maj. Gen. Henry Clinton, “A few more such victories would have shortly put an end to British dominion in America.” Clearly, these Americans would fight.

The Patriots paid a high price for their defiant stand, with 115 defenders killed, 305 wounded and 30 captured. Of the prisoners, 20 had been too seriously wounded to join the American withdrawal. They died under British care, more a reflection of the severity of their condition than any intended neglect.

The New Englanders backed up one terrain feature and continued their siege of British-held Boston. When Washington arrived outside of Boston in early July, he notified the militiamen that they now belonged to the Continental Army. They’d soon be joined by regiments from New York, Pennsylvania and Rhode Island.

Washington saluted the bravery of those who fought at Breed’s Hill and Bunker Hill. But he also saw room to improve. “Discipline is the soul of an army,” Washington wrote. And that required good training. So, the Continentals got to work. Two hundred and fifty years later, we’re still at it.

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Lt. Gen. Daniel Bolger, U.S. Army retired, commanded soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. He is a senior fellow of the Association of the U.S. Army. His most recent book is The Panzer Killers: The Untold Story of a Fighting General and His Spearhead Tank Division’s Charge Into the Third Reich.