North Stonington and Stonington were one and the same until 1807, when we officially split into two towns. Our past, and ties of family and loyalty, are inextricably linked: nowhere was this more apparent then in the famous 1814 battle for the Borough of Stonington. What follows is our view from the North. In 1812 when war broke out, North Stonington was much different than it is today. We like to think that not much has changed here over the years, but one difference would instantly stand out to anyone traveling back in time – the lack of trees. Beginning in the Colonial era, trees were a nagging reminder of wilderness yet to be tamed: An American visitor to Ireland in those early days remarked how beautiful their country was because there was not a single tree in sight. The Connecticut woods hid many dangers; bears, mountain lions, and perhaps most feared of all – “Indians”. One can only imagine the loneliness a settler on the Connecticut shore might have felt, staring into the immense darkness and mystery of the continent from his little homestead. It quickly became a sign of a man’s industry, and a point of personal pride, to clear the land, turning forests into fields, and the wild beauty of the woods into the orderly layout of a new country. Hardworking Stonington Yankees began clearing the land in the 1600’s, from the tall hills in the north, down to the rolling sea. Much of the acreage, like the Wheeler Farm - which still spans the two towns - had been awarded to soldiers by the King of England for fighting Native Americans in King Phillips War. It was an easy way for the Crown to repay a debt, and it gave the soldier what he most wanted – a promising future and the stature of a landowner. Thus in 1812, by their industry and progress, the little Borough of Stonington was visible from the new town of North Stonington, where some of the hills reach four and five hundred feet above sea level. Like all the States in those days, Connecticut was concerned more with her own welfare than that of the Union. In 1812 few people were interested in going back into another war against the British. The complaints between the two countries seemed far removed from the everyday the life of Connecticut Yankees. This was so much the case, that the State did not send any troops to be part of the federal army, but had only a militia that answered to the governor: The men of North Stonington would not be asked to fight on the foreign soil of Canada. By the summer of 1814 this view had changed. England had not taken well to losing the Colonies and was resolved to regain some of what she had lost. Like most businesses in the region, the shops in North Stonington Village relied on merchant ships getting their goods in and out of the ports in New London and Groton. The prosperous seaports on Long Island Sound were prime targets for British warships, and in 1814, the English decided to set up a blockade. Except for the hardy souls that took up privateering and blockade running, the English brought commerce to a standstill. The blockade of Long Island Sound and the constant threat from British ships pulled Connecticut into the war. Four companies from North Stonington were formed and put in Connecticut’s 30th Regiment under the command of Lieutenant Colonel William Randall. Lt. Col. Randall was a rural man, well liked by his soldiers. In June of 1813, Commodore Thomas Hardy, one of the most accomplished commanders in England’s storied maritime history, approached New London in the Ramillies, a warship outfitted with an impressive seventy-four cannons. Connecticut’s Lt. Col. William Randall received the following order: The North Stonington militia men left their farms and businesses and headed for the Thames. They all knew of the desperate attack on Fort Griswold during the Revolution, not thirty years before, when Benedict Arnold and his British conspirators wiped out the patriots defending the fort. This time, however, the presence of defenders at Griswold and Trumbull caused Hardy to stand down. By the 12th of July the whole force was dismissed and sent home. British spies soon found out that the forts had been evacuated. Hardy pulled the Ramillies back into the port and fired off a huge cannonade – presumably to remind the frightened inhabitants just who still ruled the waves. Stonington Borough residents were concerned that their village, sticking out into the Sound as it does, was vulnerable to attack. Randall was ordered to detach thirty-two men for a guard at Stonington Point. The winter was relatively quiet, if only because of the weather, but by spring hostilities renewed, and anxiety for the safety of the Borough increased proportionately. Randall was ordered to prepare a signal that would quickly call in his men in case the Borough was attacked. He was told to find a high hill in the middle of his district where tar barrels on poles could be quickly lit in an emergency. The flame – or smoke in daytime – would be visible for miles about and would alert the militia to head to Stonington. Grant’s Hill in North Stonington, on the Providence/New London Road, was the chosen site, and Nathaniel Wheeler was put in charge of the tar barrels. (If you look on maps of North Stonington today, you will not see Grant’s Hill, but rather Tar Barrel Hill, for this reason.) The Brigade orders and reply give the particulars: Nathaniel Wheeler was put in charge of the tar barrel signals. In the early evening of August 9th an express rider came charging up to Wheeler’s door with the long feared news: British Ships were now visible in Stonington’s harbor. Their commander – none other than Thomas Hardy - had given the people of Stonington an hour to leave the town before it was laid to waste. One can only imagine the feelings of Nathaniel Wheeler as he received the news. Like many residents of the new town of North Stonington, he would have had family and friends in both towns. The Borough of Stonington and North Stonington had been part of the same town only a scant seven years past: the British threat can only have felt personal. His duty was clear and pressing. Soon the militiamen of North Stonington would look up from their fields and homes to see a huge cloud of smoke billowing from Grant’s Hill. It is rumored that a man repairing his roof on the top of Wyassup Road could see the entire scene in Stonington Harbor: five English warships and a bomb ship - called The Terror - had ominously surrounded the little village. The North Stonington militiamen, some who lived fifteen miles from the conflict, grabbed their weapons and headed south, some on horseback, some by foot. They had arranged to meet at the Public House of Oliver York, which stood where Stonington Borough’s public library now stands. Many made it there before dark, and the entire regiment (including men from other towns) got there by daybreak of the 10th. The British bombardment opened on the evening of August 9. Night and day the British ships rained cannonballs and rockets on the Borough, dropping a total of 15 tons of ordinance on the small town. The militia worked with civilian defenders, under the command of Randall, to defend the town. They split into companies - to repel several attempts by the British at landing, to extinguish fires, and to work the guns in the battery. The bravery and ingenuity of the defenders cannot be understated. The Borough had only been issued two canons, eighteen-pounders, from the General Government for their defense. The British ships had a total of 150 cannons to the Americans’ three – the two eighteen pounders and a small four to six pounder - which had to be quickly placed, fired, and re-placed in positions of advantage to fend off invasion. This sometimes meant hauling the huge guns from one side of the Point to the other, under constant fire, and with great haste. When eventually they ran out of supplies, they had to resort to using the flintlocks of their rifles to light their cannons and hunt for gunpowder in the fishing boats in the harbor. More dangerous than the actual cannon shots were the subsequent fires, and the unexploded ordinance. Fire brigades worked constantly throughout the battle to keep the town from going up in flames. The following account of the battle, from a letter written by Amos Potter in August of 1815 to the Secretary of War, paints a vivid picture of the fight: “... About seven in the evening they put off five barges and a large launch, carrying from thirty-two to nine-pound cannonades in their bows, and opened fire from their shipping with bombs, carcasses, rockets, round grape and canister shot, and sent their boats to land under cover of their fire. We let them come within small grape distance, when we opened fire upon them from our two eighteen pounders with round and grape shot. They soon retreated from out of grape distance and attempted a landing on the east side of the village. We dragged a six-pounder that we had mounted over and met them with grape, and all our muskets opened fire on them. So they were willing to retreat the second time. They continued their fire till eleven at night. The next morning at seven o’clock, the brig, “Dispatch” anchored within pistol shot of our battery and they sent five barges and two large launches to land under cover of their whole fire (being joined by the “Nimrod,” twenty-gun brig). When the boats approached within grape distance we opened our fire on them with round and grape shot. They retreated and came round the east side of the town. We checked them with our six-pounder and muskets till we dragged over one of our eighteen-pounders. We put in it a round shot and about forty or fifty pounds of grape, and placed it in the center of their boats as they were rowing up in a line and firing on us. We tore one of their boats all in pieces, so that two, one on each side, had to lash her up to keep her from sinking. They retreated out of grape distance, and we turned our fire upon the brig and expended all our cartridges but five, which we reserved for the boats if they made another attempt to land. We then lay four hours, being unable to annoy the enemy in the least, except from muskets on the brig, while the fire from the whole fleet was directed against our buildings. After the third express from New London, some fixed ammunition arrived. We then turned our cannon on the brig, and she soon cut her cable and drifted out. The whole fleet then weighed and anchored nearly out of reach of shot, and continued this and the next day to bombard the town. They set the buildings on fire in more than twenty places, and we as often put them out. In the three days’ bombardment they sent on shore sixty tons of metal and strange to say, wounded only one man. We have picked up fifteen tons, including some that was taken up out of the water and the two anchors that we got. We took up and buried four poor fellows that were hove overboard out of the sinking barge…” Examples of the cannonballs and Congreve rockets fired on the town can be seen in the Stonington Lighthouse Museum. The two eighteen-pounders stand in Cannon Square. If you look on a map of North Stonington, you can find Tar Barrel Hill. The house of Corporal John Dean Gallup of the Fourth Company is preserved at Hewitt Farm. And if you look at the names of North Stonington residents today, you will find many descendents of the heroes of 1814. Editors note: This is a revised version of an article that appeared in our bicentennial “Remembrance Book”, published in 2007 Sources: Stonington Lighthouse & Historical Society History of the Town of Stonington, County of New London Conn. From its First Settlement in 1649 to 1900 with a Genealogical Register of Stonington Families Richard Anson Wheeler, 1900 “North Stonington Bicentennial Walking Tour: An historical & architectural guide to the Village”, Friends of the Wheeler Library, 2007 This is Our Town, Interview with Dudley Wheeler, Vilma Gregoropoulos 1997