The barges came back across the Charles from Boston, with more
troops, but these were disembarked some distance southwest, nearer
Charlestown. General Howe now made a short speech to the troops
first landed. Then some flank guards were sent out and some cannon
wheeled forward. The companies of the front line, with one of which
was Harry, were now ordered to form into files and move straight
ahead. They were to constitute the right wing of the attacking
force, and to be led by General Howe himself. The four regiments
composing the two rear lines moved forward and leftward, to form, with
the troops newly landed, the left wing, which was to be under General
Pigott. The cannonading from the river and from Boston continued.

The companies with which was Harry advanced slowly, having to pass
through high grass, over stone fences, under a roasting sun. These
companies were moving towards the hay-thatched rail fence that
straggled down the hillside from the breastwork north of the redoubt.
Harry had a vague sense that the left wing was ascending the
southeastern side of the hill, towards the redoubt, at the same time.
His eye caught the view at either side. Long files of scarlet coats,
steel bayonets, grenadiers' tall caps. He looked ahead. The stretch of
green, grassy hillside, the hay-covered rail fence looking like a
hedge-row, the rude breastwork, the blue sky. Suddenly there came from
the rail fence the belching of field-pieces. Two grenadiers fell at
the right of Harry. One moaned, the other was silent. Harry, shocked
into a sense that war was begun between his King and his people,
instantly resolved to strike no blow that day against his people. But
this was no time for leaving the ranks. Mechanically he marched on.

Heads appeared over the fence-rail, guns were rested on it, and there
came from it some irregular flashes of musketry. Then Harry saw a man
moving his head and arms, as if shouting and gesticulating. The musket
flashes ceased. Harry did not know it then, but the man was Putnam,
and he was commanding the Yankees to reserve their fire. The British
files were now ordered to deploy into line, and fire. They did so as
they advanced, firing in machine-like unison, as if on parade, but
aiming high. Nearer and nearer, as Harry went forward, rose the fence
ahead and the breastwork on the hill towards the left. Why did not the
Yankees fire? Were they, indeed, paralyzed with fear at sight of the
lines of the King's g