The monument at the site of the Boyd and Parker ambush. The monument reads: “Sacred To The Memory of Lieut. Thomas Boyd and Sergt. Michael Parker Who were captured and afterward tortured and killed. Afar their bones may lie/but here their patriot blood/baptized the land for aye/and wideened freedom’s flood”
Photo credit: Ed Dehm, CC BY-SA 3.0 httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-sa3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

In the darkness of September 1779, Thomas Boyd heard the muffled squeal of death.

Murphy, he thought. Can’t that man follow orders?

Boyd—an officer barely into his twenties—missed the fatal irony of his question.

But he did sense his mission was compromised. Boyd had orders to scout the British forces, not to engage them. Timothy Murphy’s shot must have echoed through the woods, alerting the Seneca. Worse, the others got away. No doubt the Indian would quickly warn his brothers. The encounter yielded one scalp, a horse saddle, and a bridle.¹ It seemed hardly worth the risk Sullivan’s men now faced.

The scouts needed to get out. And they needed to get out quickly. More importantly, Boyd needed to get word back to the General sooner. He dispatched two runners to ride ahead. They returned to report discovering a handful of Seneca on horseback up ahead.²

The young lieutenant remained confident that he would meet up with the main army soon enough. He rode on with his troops. They had not gotten far before they came upon Continue Reading “Thomas Boyd And The Brutality Of The Western Frontier”