By Peter F. Stevens

For Dorchester, hard years loomed in the spring of 1776. The British, cowed by the Patriot cannons bristling along Dorchester Heights, had departed Boston. But the Revolution dragged on. So, too, did Dorchester's part in the conflict.

On May 23, 1776, before the Declaration of Independence was completed, Dorchester's Town Meeting voted "that if the Continental Congress should think it best to declare an Independency with Great Britain, we will support them with our lives and fortunes."

The town greeted the news of the Declaration of Independence in July 1776 with toasts and "huzzahs," the entire document transcribed "in full on the Town Records."

Not all of the town's residents, who numbered 1550 (1515 whites, 35 negroes and mulattoes, and 291 families), embraced the Patriot cause. Still, the Loyalists were few. According to the town records, "it would appear by this, that there were one or more tories in the town; but the inhabitants were very much united as a body, and had a love of and determination for liberty."

When it came to signing the muster rolls of the Continental Army,

Dorchester's men and youths more than did their part. "During the time that the Revolution was going on," notes the History of Dorchester, "the town was continually having meetings to induce men to enlist in the army. They were called upon to go to New York, to Canada, to Rhode Island, Long Island, Peek's Kill, West Point, on secret expeditions."

The calls for recruits were constant, and Dorchester "put forth all its energies, and the people sacrificed their comfort and estates." A

recruitment bounty of twenty pounds proved an incentive for many Dorchester men, especially family men. Those who accepted the cash had to serve three years, Dorchester's Town Meeting even having "to borrow money to meet these demands."

The town's treasury was drained by the enlistment bounties, and for "many of the most worthy and industrious of the inhabitants it was difficult to obtain the necessaries of life." Equally difficult for local families was the sight of their husbands, sons, and brothers shouldering muskets and tramping off to fight the redcoats of King George III. By January 1777, nearly a third of Dorchester men above the age of 16 had joined Continental regiments. At first, many local soldiers were stationed close to home at various forts around Boston.

"Being inhabitants of Dorchester," a soldier wrote, "we went to our own dwelling places and did business at home, except when on duty. We were allowed good provisions, and the duty was generally easy."

That "easy duty" dissolved as the war went on, and more and more local soldiers were sent to the front. And there was no lack of Dorchester men who served with valor and distinction on the battlefields of the Revolution. Lt.. Colonel Samuel Pierce served throughout the war, seeing "blood, mud, and hard duty." He commanded a regiment with neighbor Jonathan Blake serving as the unit's adjutant. Pierce was lauded as "a patriotic man, and did his full share" during the conflict.

Another Dorchester soldier, 18-year-old David Clap, Jr., learned firsthand that even such a seemingly mundane task as guarding British prisoners could erupt in bloodshed. "A prisoner," Clap wrote, "one of the

British grenadiers, was seen at night by one of our sentinels to be getting pickets that were placed around the fort, and as his orders were to serve them, he ordered the prisoner to desist. After speaking several times without effect, the sentry told him if he persisted in doing so, he would fire. The only answer given was a profane daring of the sentry to fire. He fired, and killed the prisoner on the spot. Some of the other prisoners were so enraged at this, that they threatened to kill the sentry….the officers thought it best not to put him on the main guard again."

As the war raged on, many Dorchester men died in battle, returned home with missing limbs, or were captured. The constant attrition made recruitment efforts harder, as there was not an endless supply of enlistees locally. On June 22, 1780, the Continental Congress passed a law that compelled many Dorchester men to enlist, reenlist, or find someone else to take their place in the ranks: "If any man was drafted who was not of sufficient ability to serve in person, or who did not pass muster, he was to hire some able-bodied man to take his place, or pay a fine of 150 pounds in twenty-four hours."

Despite declining numbers of available recruits and with inflation of Continental currency soaring, the Town Meeting continued to raise funds "to hire soldiers." A local historian asserts: "These were indeed days of darkness and peril; and courage, faith, and indomitable energy alone carried our ancestors through the struggle. The young men, the active and the strong, were in the army, or liable to be called upon at any moment; and the women and children, the sickly and aged men, were left at home...Yet they managed to do their share in the great work of the Revolution."

For the town itself, one of the war's most difficult junctures came during the brutal winter of 1780-81, when so many men were in the army that their families were hard-pressed merely to chop enough firewood or haul water through the deep snow. That winter "was remarkably cold, with great quantities of snow, so much so that the roads in Dorchester were not broken out for a long time, most of the able-bodied men being in the army. The route into Boston, from the upper part of town and from Milton, was down Neponset River and up Boston Harbor on the ice."

To boost morale and make sure that at least a bit of provisions were available to all, "there was a house of entertainment, refreshments, etc., opened on the ice near the Castle" during the bleak winter of 1780-81.

Dorchester's soldiers and their families suffered throughout the Revolution, but for the troops, "there was a bright side to the revolutionary service."

Lifelong friendships were formed in camp and on battlefields. In the case of two Dorchester soldiers, John Blackman and Joseph Whiston, however, a mild grudge would last a lifetime. The pair had served together and were discharged together at the war's end. According to the story "handed down to the present generation," Blackman and Whiston trudged out of camp and headed for home, a long journey by foot. They would relate that they had "little money to spend."

To brace themselves for the journey, "they therefore purchased together one canteen full of rum (joint stock), and set their faces homeward. Blackman, being the youngest, said that he felt it his duty to carry said canteen.

"He soon outwalked his fellow traveller, who, seeing him upon a hill in advance, hailed him, and said that wanted some of the precious liquor.

Blackman replied that he would stop at the next house, where he could obtain water, wait for him, and they would drink together. Whiston called at the house as agreed upon, and inquired for his comrade, but found that he had kept on, and he hurried on after him. He occasionally got within hailing distance, but invariably received the same answer from Blackman, that he would stop at the next house, but he never kept his word. In this way they travelled from West Point to Dorchester. For a while after their return, Blackman gave Whiston a wide berth; but one day they met in Roxbury, and Whiston called his companion to account for such conduct, and asked him if there was any of the rum left. He replied, no; he drank it all, and there not half enough. Whiston asked if he would not pay him for his share; but his reply was, "No I think I earned it by carrying it." Whiston generally went by the name of Whetstone, and is remembered by our older citizens."

The grudge notwithstanding, the pair of soldiers and their Dorchester neingbors had risked all - "their lives and their fortunes' - in the cause of liberty.

(Journalist Peter F. Stevens is the author of The Rogue's March: John Riley and the St. Patrick's Battalion, 1846-48, Brassey's, and Notorious and Notable New Englanders, Down East Books.)