The Second Battle of Monmouth

A colonial victory--with trucks, walkie-talkies and Port-O-Sans Under a scorching sun, long lines of blue-coated colonial troops and fringe-shirted riflemen advanced shoulder to shoulder through the fields of New Jersey to attack the forces of King George III. Skirmishers darted ahead to draw the redcoats' fire, then rejoined the ranks.

Coolly poised to repel the attack, the British forces moved forward, Hessian grenadiers in fearsome mitred helmets, the Scottish Black Watch regiment resplendent in tartan kilts. Almost as one, the Continentals opened with a fusillade of musket and rifle fire. The British responded with a volley of their own. The smoke cleared. A Red Cross truck lumbered across the field to pick up the fallen, all of them victims of heat exhaustion.

Commanders with walkie-talkies ordered their forces to regroup.

A truck, not a wagon, in the 18th century? Walkie-talkies for the generals? Yes, a few of the historical niceties were ignored last week as the state of New Jersey staged one of the final acts of America's Bicentennial celebration by re-creating the Battle of Monmouth. In the actual engagement, which occurred on June 28, 1778, the forces were evenly balanced at about 12,000 men each. In the 1 3/4-hr. replay on the site of the original there were some 1,200 patriots and only 600 redcoats, watched by about 75,000 spectators.

No matter. The 20th century participants acted as if the battle were genuine. When, at a climactic moment, George Washington's Life Guard marched relentlessly through sulfurous musket and cannon smoke, patriotic shivers shook the spectators. Woman camp followers cheered on their men and hissed at the enemy. Colonial soldiers taunted: "The King's a queen." Indeed, spirits run so high at these mock fights--marking all the important Revolutionary War engagements, starting in 1974--that individual soldiers are not given ramrods. The reason: an overexcited fighter might forget to extract a ramrod from his musket before firing, sending it flying like a spear.

The real Battle of Monmouth ended inconclusively, with the British withdrawing, then slipping away from the colonials and marching to New York. Still, the battle, in which some 200 British and 100 colonial soldiers died, was an important psychological victory for Washington's troops. The young American Army had faced its foes in the 18th century European fashion, a standup, line-vs.-line fight, and held the field.

Revolutionary War buffs came to New Jersey from as far away as California, Florida and Ontario to replay the battle. They included a seventh-generation descendant of Molly Pitcher--Elizabeth Hays, 17, of Carlisle, Pa.--who carried water to parched Continental cannoneers, as her ancestor had done 200 years earlier. Many participants have faced each other on past battlegrounds; in fact, most plan family vacations around them. Said Maveret Daigle of Albany, whose husband fought at Monmouth: "I never used to go on these, until a very pretty woman told me what fun my husband was on these re-enactments." True to historical accuracy, Mrs. Daigle became a camp follower, cooking, washing clothes and keeping the tent clean. She has marched with her husband to Bennington, Vt., Ridgefield, Conn., and Short Hills, N.J., and has become an enthusiast. "When we camp in the forts," she explains, "you can almost sense how it was. The walls have vibes."

The hobbyists deck themselves out in historically accurate garb and gear, right down to pewter buttons. Otto de Pierne, a chemical researcher from East Norwalk, Conn., spent $7,000 outfitting himself as a surgeon, even collecting the original bottles for 118 drugs carried by 18th century battlefield medics, as well as all the drugs--except opium--which he had to simulate. At Monmouth, he put on his 18th century glasses but apologized for wearing modern shoes. He also brought along his colonial desk, with quill pen and linen paper.

With participants willingly spending their own money to relive the past --British uniforms alone cost up to $600 --New Jersey's American Revolution Bicentennial Celebration Commission ended up spending only $25,000 on the battle, far less than expected. The agency provided 75 Port-O-Sans for the crowd, a convenience not available in the 18th century, and the New Jersey National Guard served free meals from its field kitchens. Thus the commission set a timely and unusual example for governmental units in the 20th century rebellion against high government spending. Because the agency used up only $90,000 of its $140,000 budget for two years of celebration, it plans to return $50,000 to the state treasury. Two hundred years later, New Jersey's citizen patriots have won again.

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