High Twelve

"OLD PUT"`

A Brand Plucked From The Burning

Every American interested in the history of his country -- and who is not ? -- regards "Old Put" as one of our finest heroes. He was brave to recklessness, yet always had instant command of his resources and in short never failed to know and to do the right thing in an emergency, no matter how desperate. Such qualities are sure to bring the possessor to the front, provided the occasion arises; and in the case of Putnam, there was no counting the occasions that presented themselves to prove the metal of which he was made.

Putnam was born away back in 1718, so that he was fourteen years older than Washington. His birthplace was Salem, Massachusetts, and his father being a farmer, gave to the son only the simplest rudiments of education. In his early manhood he was admitted the fastest runner and the best leaper and wrestler in his native town. One day the awkward country youth paid a visit to Boston. A city chap much older and larger than he, thought to amuse himself and friends by having some sport at the expense of the rustic. He had no more than started the entertainment when Young Put sailed into him and gave him a drubbing from which he did not recover for weeks.

"So I got more fun out of it than he did," remarked Putnam, referring to the incident, which must have been only one of the many similar ones of which his biographers have not taken note.

He had not yet reached his majority when he married and removed to Pomfret, Connecticut, where he became a successful farmer. His strength and genial disposition made him popular with his neighbors. As I have started out to tell the story of "Old Put" up to the climax I have in mind, it won't do to omit his famous adventure with a wolf, which is never left out of our school histories. Here are the particulars:

Pomfret and the vicinity had been scourged for a long time by a she-wolf of prodigious size, which was long hunted in vain by the indignant farmers. She seemed to care nothing for the shots fired at her and kept up her ravages as if she considered the world owed her a debt which was overdue at all times, Putnam chafed his friends over their misfortunes and asked why they did not go out and kill the pest.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" demanded a neighbor, by way of retort.

"She has never bothered me; I haven't anything against her. So long as she keeps her claws off I'm satisfied, but if she pays me a visit I'll wake her up."

One morning when Put went out to inspect his stock, he found that the wolf had made her long deferred call. Fully three-score of sheep and goats had been killed and many others torn by the merciless marauder.

"War is declared between us!" he exclaimed with a forceful expletive, as he surveyed the destruction, "and it doesn't end until you are, knocked out."

Since the neighbors upon whom he called had suffered from the ferocity of the brute, they readily agreed that the pursuit should not stop until she was run down and slain. It was easy to track the animal because she had lost one of her feet in a trap. She was followed to the Connecticut River and back again to Pomfret, where he had slunk into a cavern near the home of Putnam. No better refuge could have been found for many a mile around. The entrance was about two feet wide, sloped down for five yards, then ran horizontally ten feet and then inclined upward a little farther to the extremity. In no part of the tunnel could a man stand upright, nor was it more than three feet in width.

But the foe was at bay and the question was how best to bring about her complete overthrow. A number of the best dogs were sent into the cave, but every one skurried back from the presence of the wolf, who paid no heed to burning straw or the fumes of brimstone. The day was spent in trying every possible device to bring her out, but when night set in she was still there, as defiant as ever.

By this time Putnam had lost all patience and declared he would go into the cave himself. His neighbors warned him that the result would be his death or frightful mangling, but he would not listen. He threw off his coat and waistcoat, lighted a birch bark torch with which to scare the brute, and tied a rope around one ankle with which his friends were to draw him out upon receiving a signal from him. He crept forward until he saw the glare of the wolf's eyes, and heard her warning growl. Having obtained the information he wanted, Putnam gave the notice agreed upon. His overanxious friends straightway proceeded to haul him out with so much vigor that his clothes were torn in rags and he was bruised from head to foot.

"The wolf couldn't have handled me any worse than you," growled the disgusted farmer, who now took a loaded musket in one hand and holding the torch in the other made a second entrance into the cave. By and by he caught sight of the glowing eyes and again heard the ominous growl. The target was a fair one and at the very moment the brute was gathering herself for a spring at him, he took careful aim and fired. Not knowing how badly he had wounded her, he signalled and was hastily drawn out, but with more consideration than before. Waiting a few moments, and hearing nothing, he entered the dark tunnel for the third time; found the wolf dead and, seizing her by the ears, the two were pulled forth by the delighted group at the entrance.

Putnam led the even, uneventful life of a farmer until the breaking out of the French and Indian war, which you need not be reminded was the final struggle between France and England for the mastery of the American continent. This is no place to give the history of, that epoch which ended in the overthrow of France, except so far as "Old Put's" services are connected with it. An expedition was formed for the reduction of Crown Point. This was to be done by a body of Colonial troops under the command of Sir William Johnson. Connecticut was called upon to furnish a certain quota and Putnam was made Captain of one of the companies thus raised. He was the first one thought of, for his courage and sterling qualities had made him highly esteemed.

Putnam's troops were known as "Rangers" and to them was entrusted the most perilous work of the war. They acted independently of the main army, striking quick blows against detached forces, reconnoitering the positions of the enemy, serving as guides and capturing prisoners from whom they forced important information. Another duty, eminently characteristic of 'civilized" war, was to burn the houses, barns, barracks and bateaux of the French, kill or run off their cattle and attack convoys of provisions. While this work may have been congenial to many employed, it was often highly dangerous because of the numerous prowling Indians who fought on the side of the French. The most famous corps was "Rogers Rangers," a partisan force under the command of Robert Rogers. He and Putnam became close friends and went on many scouting expeditions together. At the head of a small force they were sent to Fort Edward to find out the condition of the fortifications at Crown Point.

It was impossible to do this at the head of even a small body of troops without detection by the Indian scouts, who were roaming everywhere. So the soldiers were left in a place of concealment when the vicinity of Crown Point was reached, and the two leaders stole cautiously forward in quest of the important information. It was growing light in the east when the officers caught the dim outline of fortifications, and crouched down to await further light.

With the rising of the sun, the soldiers began coming out in such large numbers from the fort that Putnam and Rogers could not rejoin their men without being seen. Worse than that, a soldier walked directly to the spot where Rogers was lying on his face among the undergrowth a few paces from his companion. The soldier shouted for the guard to aid him and at the same time tried to seize Rogers' fusee with one hand and to bury a dirk knife in his body with the other. Rogers was in imminent danger and Putnam, fearing to alarm the enemy by firing his musket, sprang forward and slew the soldier with a single blow from his fusee. The guard summoned a moment before, were hurrying to the spot, but the two got back to their troop and eventually to camp without harm. Major Rogers in his published "Journals" displayed an unpardonable lack of chivalry by making no mention of this incident.

On another occasion, Captain Putnam was sent to reconnoiter the enemy near Ticonderoga. His companion was Lieutenant Robert Durkee, as brave as he. Both were experts in woodcraft and crept close to the point in mind without detection. Neither, however, was aware of the French practice of placing their sentinels outside of a single big central fire where they were hidden by darkness, whereas the English and provincial troops set their guards inside of a circle of light, and thus exposed them to greater danger.

Thus it came about that Putnam and Durkee were stealing forward with no thought of mishap when they were discovered by the sentinels and fired upon. Durkee was hit in the leg, but Putnam was not hurt. The only thing to do was to run, and the couple never did better sprinting in their lives, the wound of Durkee being only a flesh one. Putnam was in the lead and was doing well when he plunged head first into a clay pit with his companion directly behind him. They scrambled out amid a shower of bullets and flung themselves behind a log, from which they did not stir until daylight came.

As evidence of the narrowness of their escape, Putnam found his canteen had been pierced by fully a dozen bullets, while his blanket had served as a target for fourteen other balls. Poor Durkee was captured at the Massacre of Wyoming, some twenty years later, and burned at the stake.

Some time after this a convoy of luggage and provisions was captured by six-hundred French and Indians at Halfway Brook, between Lake George and Fort Edward. As soon as the news reached camp, Captains Rogers and Putnam were sent in pursuit of the enemy. They embarked with one hundred men in boats, also two field pieces and two blunder-busses. They were ordered to go a certain distance from the lake, and thence overland to the Narrows, with the purpose of cutting off the marauders' retreat.

The pursuers were none too soon, for shortly after arriving at the spot fixed upon they saw the French bateaux, laden to the gunwales with loot, moving slowly into the Narrows without a suspicion of danger. When they were within pistol shot, so destructive a fire was opened upon them that scores were killed and a number of bateaux sunk. The survivors made all haste to Ticonderoga, from which a large force was sent to intercept the provincials, but they were not thus to be caught, and reached their boats in safety, and although later attacked, they arrived unhurt at camp.

Captain Putnam's personal courage, sagacity and qualities of leadership had attracted so general attention, that the legislature of Connecticut in 1757 commissioned him as Major. The Chief Commander of the British forces in the colonies at that time was the Earl Loudoin, one of the most incompetent leaders ever placed in a position of trust. After dilly-dallying and doing nothing, he finally returned to New York and "rested"; that is, remained idle when the distress of his country most urgently demanded his best services.

Fort William Henry was erected on the shores of Lake George in 1755. It resisted several expeditions sent against it, but the garrison was in a wretched condition; nearly all discipline was gone, and disaster was certain to come unless a thorough reform was made. The defenders numbered less than five hundred, and General Webb was stationed fifteen miles distant at Fort Edward with an army of four thousand.

The brilliant Marquis de Montcalm marched against Fort William Henry with some eight thousand men, among whom were many Indians. He summoned Colonel Monroe to surrender, adding that he hoped in the interests of humanity he would do so, for if any of the Indians were killed, their comrades would become unrestrainable after the fall of the fort, which could not possibly withstand the impending attack. Monroe replied that he would defend the post to the last.

A few days before this General Webb, with Major Putnam and two hundred men, went to Fort William Henry to learn its condition. While the officer was thus engaged, Major Putnam proposed to take five men to Northwest Bay and find out the exact situation of the French at Ticonderoga, sending back the boats to prevent discovery. Webb shook his head: he could not think of permitting so hazardous a venture. He finally consented that Putnam should try it with eighteen volunteers. The party embarked in three whale boats. On the way they descried a large body of the French on an island. Putnam left two of his boats to give the idea that he was simply fishing and with the other hurried back to tell General Webb what he had seen. Only after much persuasion was he permitted to return for his companions and to look further into matters. He saw enough to remove all doubt that a powerful force was on its way to attack Fort William Henry. Webb cautioned Putnam to say nothing to any one of what he had learned and his companions were sworn to secrecy. The Major urged that the enemy should be given battle on the shore, but the timid General would not agree. Returning to Fort Edward he sent a reinforcement to Fort William Henry, which was invested by Montcalm twenty-four hours later.

The siege lasted six days, Colonel Monroe, the commandant, sent repeated expresses to General Webb asking for help, but the only answer was the advice to surrender on the best terms he could secure from Marquis Montcalm. Putnam urged that he and his Rangers should be allowed to go to the help of their countrymen, and finally the commander granted him permission to do so. Hardly, however, had the eager Provincials started when the cowardly Webb recalled them. It is a melancholy fact that Montcalm afterward told Putnam, when he was a prisoner in Canada, that as soon as his scouts notified him of the setting out of the relief, he decided to retreat, and had actually began withdrawal when he learned of the recall of the reinforcements, whereupon he returned to the siege. Thus the incompetence and cowardice of the commandant was the cause of the surrender of Fort William Henry and the dreadful massacre that followed, when the Indians vehemently assailed the prisoners while on their way to Fort Edward as prisoners of war.

Putnam and his Rangers reached the scene of the massacre next day. They had been sent out to observe the movements of the enemy. The picture upon which they looked made Putnam and his bravest men shudder with horror. No more forcible illustration could have been given of the fiendish atrocity of war, even between the most civilized nations.

General Phineas Lyman was given command at Fort Edward and set out to strengthen the defenses. He sent one hundred and fifty men to cut timber and placed Captain Little at the head of a morass a little way to the east of the fort to protect the woodchoppers while at work. A tongue of land united this post with the fort, bounded by the morass on one side and a stream of water on the other.

Just as it was growing light one morning a sentinel saw what he took to be a number of birds flying over his head from the morass. One of the "birds," however, suddenly turned into an Indian arrow whose flint head was buried in the trunk of a tree beside the watchman. A large party of redskins were hidden in the morass and hoped thus to slay the sentinel without alarming the garrison. He instantly gave the alarm and the laborers dashed for the fort aided by the fire of Little's men. All except those who were wounded reached the refuge in safety. The commandant instead of sending help to Little called in all the outposts and ordered the gates to be closed.

This placed Little and his small company in frightful peril, for they were attacked by an overwhelming force of Indians, whose appetite for blood had been whetted by the massacre a short time before. They would have been cut off to a man had not Major Putnam and his Rangers, who were on an island near the fort, hastened to their relief. They had to wade through the water to their waists, but not a Ranger hesitated. They were obliged to pass near the fort, and General Lyman shouted a peremptory order from the parapet for them to return. Putnam affected not to understand clearly what was said and made so evasive a response that before the General could understand him, the Rangers were at the side of the sorely pressed band. Major Putnam ordered a charge straight into the morass, and it was made with so much spirit that the Indians broke and fled and were pursued for hours and cut down.

Although Major Putnam had laid himself open to court martial because of his disobedience of orders, no charges were brought against him by General Lyman and the reason is not hard to guess.

In the following winter, Putnam performed an exploit, which in coolness and daring, has rarely, or perhaps never been surpassed. In these days it would win him a Carnegie gold medal, and even now, no one can recall the deed without a thrill of admiration.

The barracks adjoining the northwestern bastion of Fort Edward accidentally caught fire. In the magazine, only twelve feet away, were stored three hundred barrels of gunpowder. The danger was so appalling that the commandant ordered several of his heaviest guns to be trained upon the barracks in order to demolish them, but the efort failed. Major Putnam came up at this juncture from his post on the island and in a twinkling climbed to the roof of the barracks, standing as near as he could to the blaze. A line of soldiers quickly formed through a postern to the river and water was passed to Putnam who dashed it on the flames the instant it reached him. So intense was the heat that his mittens were burned off. Another pair soaked with water were handed to him and he kept his post, even after the steaming and scorched coverings failed to give more than slight protection.

The Commandant recoiled at the sacrifice and ordered Putnam to descend. He replied that to do so would precipitate fatal disaster and begged for permission to remain. It was reluctantly given and the Colonel ordered that nothing more should be removed from the fort.

"If we must perish," he exclaimed in a burst of admiration, "let us go to glory together."

The fire raged with that infernal vigor which at times seemed impossible to subdue and the barracks gave sign of tumbling inward. Putnam leaped to the ground and stood between the glowing mass and the powder. The outer planking of the magazine was burned and only a single partition remained between the flames and the awful mass of explosives. Putnam seemed to be blistered from head to foot, but held his post until the last spark of fire was extinguished. There must have been many minutes when the space separating life and death for all was no more than a hair's breadth.

This agonizing ordeal had lasted for more than an hour. When the mittens were pulled from the hands of Putnam, the skin came off with them, and it was several weeks before he recovered from his painful wounds. He was warmly thanked by the Commander, and received in all quarters the praise which he deserved.

History has recorded in many cases, the gross mismanagement of military operations in this country, during the early years of the struggle between France and England for the possession of America. William Pitt became prime Minister at the close of 1757 at which time France held twenty-times as much territory as her rival and was rapidly gaining ground. But Pitt infused vigor into the American campaign and the turning of the tide soon followed. Connecticut, New Hampshire and Massachusetts furnished fifteen thousand troops and three important expeditions were set on foot. Louisburg was the objective point of the first and was captured, while young Colonel George Washington drove the enemy from Fort Duquesne. The destination of the third was Crown Point and Ticonderoga to which we must turn attention, since Major Putnam was immediately connected with it.

The chief command of this department was given to General James Abercrombie, who proved so miserable a failure that it may be said that the only thing he succeeded in accomplishing was to have his name (because of its orthography) head the index of nearly every history of our country that has since been written. He ordered Major Putnam to go with fifty men to South Bay in Lake George, watch the enemy and cut off strangers. Moving with his usual promptness, Putnam went to a creek, stopping at the point where it flows into South Bay. There he built a parapet of stone on a cliff overhanging the water. It was hidden by a number of young trees so placed that their growth appeared to be natural. About one-third of the force had become so unfit for duty that he sent them back to camp. His scouts reported the approach of a fleet of canoes filled with armed men, coming slowly up the creek. It was a bright moonlit night and Putnam stationed his Rangers so as to make their fire most effective with orders for no one to discharge his gun until he gave the word. Just as the foremost canoes passed the parapet, however, a soldier accidentally hit his firelock against a stone. The enemy took the alarm and turned to withdraw when Putnam shouted "Fire!" After a large number had been killed, the foes discovering from the discharges that the provincials were few in number, sent a force to the rear with the purpose of cutting them off. Putnam showed his alertness by dispatching Lieutenant Durkee with twelve men, who repulsed them. A detachment after a time succeeded in landing farther below, and as Putnam's ammunition was running short he retreated to camp. Although he had slain a large number, only two of his own men were wounded.

The incompetent Abercrombie, in person, led the expedition against Ticonderoga. His army numbered sixteen thousand and was amply provided with artillery and military stores. No more imposing sight had ever been seen on the American Continent than was witnessed on the, morning of July 5th, 1758, when this immense force in one hundred whale boats, nine hundred bateaux and the artillery in rafts, embarked to the inspiring strain of martial music, and moved gracefully down Lake George on the way to attack the famous fort. Reaching Sabbath-Day Point, they landed for a few hours and then resumed the voyage, with Lord Howe leading the van. This officer, who was an elder brother of Admiral Richard and General William Howe of the Revolution was one of the most brilliant and lovable characters associated with our colonial history. He was the idol of the army and infinitely the superior in every respect of his commander Abercrombie.

The disembarkation of the troops began at noon on the 6th of July. Rogers with his Rangers drove the enemy before him with the main army following. Lord Howe led the center and Major Putnam was at his side. To the left among the trees was heard the sound of firing. Lord Howe expressed a wish to learn the cause. Putnam offered to find out and started, while against his respectful but earnest protest, Howe accompanied him at the head of a hundred men. They soon overtook a part of the advance guard of the enemy that had gone astray in the woods, and was retreating before Rogers and his Rangers. A brief interchange of shots took place and almost the first to fall was Lord Howe. No death could have caused more sorrow among his soldiers and his friends in England.

Soon afterward, the British and the provincials made their disastrous attack upon Ticonderoga whose garrison was but one-third their number. General Abercrombie placed himself two miles from the scene of conflict where he knew no hostile shot could reach him and the vehement and use less assault was repeated again and again until two thousand brave men lay stretched in death upon the earth.

A month later, five hundred Rangers under the command of Rogers and Putnam were sent to watch the movement of the enemy in the vicinity of Ticonderoga. After marching a considerable distance, they found themselves confronted by so superior a force that it was decided to retreat as fast as possible to headquarters at Fort Edward The Rangers were arranged in three divisions, Rogers leading the one on the right, Putnam the left and Captain Dalzell the center. They marched rapidly and at dusk halted on the banks of Clear River. At that point, Major Rogers did a thing so imprudent that it is hard to explain how the veteran came to forget himself. He engaged in a trial of skill with a British Officer, the two firing a number of shots at a target. The reports reached a party of five hundred of the enemy, who on their way to intercept Rogers, were hardly a mile distant at the time.

The sound of the firing gave the enemy the desired and all important information. Their leader posted them so as to command the trail through which he knew the Rangers would pass and, sad to say, they marched directly into the ambush thus laid for them. Putnam was at the head, Dalzell following, while Rogers brought up the rear, all advancing in close column because of the dense shrubbery and brushwood.

The furious assault was resisted by the intrepid band. Putnam halted his men, returned the fire and called upon Dalzell and Rogers to support him. Daizell responded at once, but Rogers placed his division at Wood Creek, afterwards saying in explanation, that he did so to guard against an attack from the rear, though some of his comrades accused him of trying to avoid the dangerous fighting in front.

Putnam with his usual daring, held his ground and the struggle became of the most desperate nature. Always at the head, he suddenly found himself face to face with a gigantic Indian warrior, against whom he thrust the muzzle of his gun, but the weapon missed fire and in a twinkling he was made prisoner and bound so securely to a tree that it would have taken a Hercules to break the bonds.

Captain Dalzell held his ground for a time, but was forced to fall back a little way, when he rallied his Rangers and drove the savages in turn. The struggle became terrific and Putnam unable to move his body was caught between the two fires. Again and again bullets were buried in the trunk of the tree or chipped off the bark around him, and his clothes were repeatedly pierced. The contestants gave ground and swayed back and forth several times. For an hour the Major was held in his perilous position, the wonder being how again and again he escaped death. Once when the Indians had the advantage, a warrior stopped close to him and amused himself by hurling his tomahawk into the tree, his purpose being to see how near he could come to the captive without actually killing him.

"He came infernally near finishing me," said Putnam, "for his tomahawk grazed me several times. When he got tired of the fun, a French subaltern stepped up, leveled his musket which was pointed at my breast and fired, or rather tried to fire, but his weapon failed as mine had done when aimed at my captor. I called to him and claimed treatment as a prisoner of war, but he paid no heed. Finally he struck me a violent blow with the butt of his musket and walked off, leaving me to be finished by the redskins."

After a long and fierce fight the Provincials kept possession of the field. They had lost nearly a hundred men and were in the ugliest mood conceivable when they retreated taking Putnam with them as a prisoner.

No captive could have been treated with greater indignity and cruelty. As soon as it was safe to halt, the Indians did so. They robbed Putnam pf his coat, waistcoat, shoes and stockings, bound his wrists rigidly behind him and then piled a lot of heavy packs upon his back. Under this crushing burden he was made to trudge for miles through the dismal forest, until those who were not thus oppressed grew so weary that they paused for rest.

By this time Putnam's feet were bleeding and the weight he was carrying became so unbearable that he begged his captors either to relieve or kill him. A French Officer had his load lightened and one warrior who seemed to have a spark of mercy in his composition, gave him a pair of moccasins. But the outrages were repeated and he was scarred for life by the gash of a tomahawk in his cheek:

His captors decided that he should be burned at the stake with all those barbarous cruelties so dear to their race. He was taken deep into the woods, stripped of his clothing, bound to a tree and a huge circle of dry sticks placed around him, amid the exultant shouts of his persecutors, who in prospect, enjoyed the feast before them.

No man in the hapless situation of Major Putnam could have felt the faintest throb of hope. He resigned himself to his horrifying fate with the fortitude which he showed in the most terrible situations. The flames were kindled, the suffocating smoke curled upward in his face and he felt the biting sting of the tongues of fire at his knees and creeping up his body. Held thus in a situation whose terrors no pen can picture, he saw among the spectators a French Officer, whom he recognized as the leader of the troops which had been defeated by the comrades of the man at the stake.

In the last agonizing thrill of despair, Putnam gave the Masonic cry of distress, for his hands being bound, he could make his appeal in no other way. In the same instant the Frenchman leaped forward, cut the thongs and drew him clear of the enveloping flames. The rescuer was a Freemason and responded at once to the appeal. In hot anger he denounced the action of the redskins, led Putnam away, turned him over to the care of his dusky captor, who promised he should suffer no further harm. Although he was treated harshly, his sufferings could not compare with what he had already undergone, and he reached Ticonderoga in comparative safety. Putnam was brought into the presence of Montcalm, who questioned him closely, saw that he received courteous treatment and sent him to Montreal, where he joined a number of other prisoners of war. Some time later he was exchanged.

Here properly ends my sketch of "a brand plucked from the burning." Freemasonry saved the life of one of the leading patriots of the Revolution from the most horrible of deaths, for when he made the final appeal to a Brother, he was beyond all human help. The subsequent career of "Old Put" is familiar to everyone who has read American History. Let me briefly summarize the leading facts:

He was commissioned Lieutenant-Colonel after his exchange and served under General Amherst, and took creditable part both in the Havana expedition and in a campaign against the western Indians. Then after ten year of service and with the coming of peace, he resigned from the army. He was one of the most active of patriots at the outbreak of the Revolution, being prominent as one of the foremost "Sons of Liberty." He was plowing in the field when the horseman dashing past shouted the news of the battle of Lexington. Putnam left his plow in the furrow mounted his best horse and rode a hundred miles to Boston almost without drawing rein. He was made a Brigadier. General and was in joint command with Prescott at Bunker Hill, and soon afterward was commissioned a major general and commanded the center at the siege of Boston He was active in subsequent operations, but his military career closed with the campaign of 1779 when he was in command of the Maryland line, stationed near West Point. He was stricken with paralysis, which deprived him for the time of the use of his limbs, and though he did his utmost to overcome the weakness, no treatment availed, and he was driven to that most mournful of all fates for a brave and patriotic man, -- that of being "laid on the shelf." He lived until the 17th of May, 1790 when he passed away, sustained by the unfaltering faith and trust of a Christian who had proved himself indeed a faithful servant.

In a letter addressed to the sufferer in 1783, Washington said:

"I can assure you that among the many worthy and meritorious officers with whom I have had the happiness to be connected in service through the course of this war, and from whose cheerful assistance and advice, I have received much support and confidence in the various and trying vicissitudes of a complicated contest, the name of Putnam is not forgotten, nor will be but with the stroke of time, which shall obliterate from my mind the remembrance of all those toils and fatigues, through which we have struggled for the preservation and establishment of the rights, liberties and independence of our country."