'A hot fire from all sides': Planemakers in the American Revolutionary War

Years later, it was silence the soldiers remembered. Planemaker Benjamin Walton’s militia company in Reading, Mass. woke early on April 19, 1775, to news that the British army was headed to the nearby town of Concord. Reading’s militiamen had been preparing for weeks to march against the English, stockpiling rations of cheese and bread, and practicing shouldering their muskets in the home of a local minister (and scuffing the plaster on the walls in the process). Now, as they mustered in the cold, clear morning air, they faced a daunting question: How much were they willing to sacrifice for this uncertain revolution?¹

Walton’s unit arrived at Meriam’s Corner, a cluster of homes and barns at an isolated intersection on Lexington Road, at the same time as several other local militia companies. By this time, the British Regulars were on their way back to Boston after a deadly skirmish with American soldiers in Concord. Walton’s commanding officer, Major John Brooks, ordered his men into position behind a barn and the stone walls around it. They watched the British slowly advance down Lexington road, still muddy from rain the day before. Not “a word being spoken that could be heard,” a militiaman would recall 50 years later: “Silence reigned on both sides.”²

Gunfire broke the stillness. As they reached the intersection, the British stopped, turned, and shot at the militia. But they aimed too high. Brooks ordered his men to fire. Two Regulars fell dead. By now, more than a thousand militiamen had arrived at Meriam’s Corner. That first musket volley quickly became a running battle as the British fled towards Boston through, as one Regular described, “a hot fire from all sides.”³

Walton family and Joseph Gould imprints. From top: John Walton Jr., Benjamin and John Walton III, Benjamin Walton. Photo: The Chronicle.

Part of the fire came from Reading’s other militia companies, including one led by Benjamin Walton’s father, John Walton Jr., one of America’s earliest planemakers. Benjamin’s brother John Walton III served in their father’s company and was also a planemaker. As was Joseph Gould, another member of Walton Jr.’s unit, who had apprenticed under Walton Jr. in the early 1750s.⁴

Over the next eight bloody years, at least 39 planemakers (and likely many more, see table below) took part in the Revolutionary War. Some responded to the April 1775 alarms too late to fight in a battle; others, like Benjamin Walton, only served for a couple weeks. And others, like John Lindenberger, spent years fighting the British.⁵

In May 1776, the Second Continental Congress formed what was called the German Battalion, made up of men from families of German immigrants in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Twenty-two-year-old John Lindenberger was commissioned as ensign of the battalion’s 6th Company on July 12. Five months later, he was fighting alongside George Washington in one of the war’s most famous battles.⁶

Following a series of demoralizing losses in New York State in 1776, General Washington planned a surprise attack on a small Hessian garrison in the town of Trenton, New Jersey, for the day after Christmas. The Americans hated the Hessians (German nationals hired by the British to fight in the war), accusing them of inflicting “works of death, desolation, and tyranny.” On the night of Dec. 25, as a building storm unleashed a mix of snow and sleet, Washington made his famed crossing of the Delaware River. The German Battalion followed him across soon after.⁷

Cloaked by the violent storm, American infantry quickly overwhelmed the British outposts north of Trenton. The stunned Hessians retreated back to the town. As part of Washington’s multi-pronged attack, Lindenberger’s battalion advanced on Trenton from the northeast. They reached town just as a group of Hessians made a break to the north. Washington ordered the German Battalion “to throw themselves before them, this they did with Spirit and Rapidity and immediately checked them.”⁸

The storm raged. The battle ripped through the streets of Trenton. Facing point-blank cannons and a hail of musket fire, the Hessian defenses collapsed. One American sergeant recalled the “horror and distress, blood mingling together, the dying groans, and ‘Garments rolled in blood.’” As they closed in on the enemy, Lindenberger’s battalion shouted at them in German and English “to stack their arms and surrender.” They saw, Washington later wrote, they would “inevitably be cut to pieces if they made any further resistance,” and soon gave up. By the end of the day, nearly 900 men were taken prisoner.⁹

The next month, Lindenberger was chosen to lead five wagons of captured Hessian officers from Philadelphia down to Virginia. It was a difficult, rainy trip over bad roads and through “wild and woody” country. Angry crowds gathered to watch the feared Hessians go by, sometimes throwing rocks. “Many expected to see wild robbers and murderers, with terrible angry faces—devils in human form,” a German historian recounted, “and beheld only neat soldiers, preserving, even in their misfortune, cleanliness, order and discipline.” Lindenberger would go on to fight in the battles of Brandywine and Germantown, eventually resigning in 1779. He settled in Providence, Rhode Island, and is now one of the most well-known 18th century American planemakers.¹⁰

John Lindenberger advertisement, June 14, 1787, U.S. Chronicle.

In the lead up to the United States’ 250th birthday in 2026, the stories of men and women who played a role in the American revolution will be told and retold, and their legacy will be endlessly debated. Divining what the Founding Fathers intended during the formation of the United States has become the nation’s most divisive, politicized argument, with every faction hand-picking the narratives that fit their ideology. For the people of the 13 colonies, the war was about many things: political autonomy, the rights of landowners, the role of local government, slavery, westward expansion, religious freedom, taxation, Native American sovereignty, international trade.

Even the idea of “liberty” meant something different to the men who fought. The author David Hackett Fischer argues that for the Massachusetts farmers, liberty was about self-governance within their individual communities. For the wealthy Virginians, it was about personal honor, social hierarchy, and financial independence. For the egalitarian Philadelphia Associators it was direct democracy. For the enslaved men fighting on either side of the conflict, liberty meant something radically more fundamental. What this history “means” will likely never be resolved. “No generation,” the historian Alan Taylor contends, “will ever settle the revolution once and for all. In a constant ebb and flow, we will debate and advance competing and partial versions of our contradictory revolutionary legacy.”¹¹

But to write about plane making in the context of the war is to write about individual people. Thomas Elliott, editor of A Guide to the Makers of American Wooden Planes, has done extensive work on Revolutionary War planemakers, including tracking down a fascinating account book kept by Reading militiaman Joseph Gould that details his interactions with the Walton plane making family. There are many more stories waiting to be discovered and told.¹²

Because for plane collectors and users, these men are not abstractions. We hold the things they made. They’re a bridge between centuries, a tangible connection to the people who fought to create a democracy we continue to try and perfect.

In researching this story I relied heavily on Pat Lasswell, Tom Elliott, and Mike Humphrey’s work on 18th century planemakers. I am indebted to them. You can find more of their work, including a ton of primary documents related to early American planemakers, at https://www.earlyamericanplanes.com.

Interested in more stories about 18th century plane making?

• The Planemaker Who Walked Beneath the Water
• 'A hot fire from all sides': Planemakers in the American Revolutionary War
• Tracking Down B MAN, a Curious 18th Century Mark
• Were There Women Planemakers?

Planemakers Who Served in the Revolutionary War

In addition to the above names, the Guide to the Makers of American Wooden Planes has maker imprints that have been tentatively linked to men who also served in the Revolutionary War. These entries are listed as probable/possible/”believed to be”: E. BASSETT, Elijah Bassett; J + BROWN, Jedediah Brown or John Brown; Sx DAGGETT, Samuel Daggett; E. DAMON, Ellis Damon; B: DEAN, Benaiah Dean; JA GRAMLNG, Johann Adam Gramling; P. HACHENBERG Johann Peter Hachenbergs; T. HAM, Timothy Ham; A. HARMON, Abner Harmon; I. HITCHCOK, John Lee Hitchcock or Joel Hitchcock; D. HYDE, Daniel Hyde; J: HYDE, Joel Hyde; ELI SMITH, Eli Smith; STETSON/ IONAH. STETSON, Jonah Stetson; S. STONE, Samuel Stone; S. TOPPAN, Stephen Toppan; L. VAN FOSSEN, Levi Van Fossen or Leonard Van Fossen; . YEOMAN, Francis Yeoman Sr. or Francis Yeoman Jr.

Source: A Guide to the Makers of American Wooden Planes. 5th ed.

Note: This story was updated in March 2026 to fix small typos and spelling errors.