through the dust and heat and smoke, Molly, the gunner's wife, parried water to her husband and the soldiers on the field all day. The little spring from which she fetched the water was at the bottom of the hill and, instead of a pail, she brought it in a pitcher, and this was the origin of her name, "Molly Pitcher," among the soldiers—a name that, from that day has become historic. There had been a fierce charge of the enemy's cavalry on Hays' gun, and just as she was returning with a refreshing draught for the almost perishing men, she saw her husband fall, mortally wounded. Rushing forward, she heard an officer say, "Wheel back the gun, there is no one here to serve it!" Checking the blinding rush of tears, Molly threw down her pitcher and seized the rammer of the gun. "I will fire it," she said, and taking her place beside the dead gunner's cannon she filled his place during the rest of the day.
The next day General Greene sent for Molly and brought her up to General Washington, who praised her for her courage, and presented her then and there with the commission of sergeant in the Continental army. As the half-dazed Molly stood before the great General in her soldier's coat and cap cheer after cheer for "Sergeant Molly Pitcher" went up from ten thousand throats. It must have been a stirring picture. Stately Washington and the blood-stained, smoke-begrimed figure of the gunner's wife.
The battle of Monmouth was the only battle of the Revolution in which every one of the thirteen colonies was represented, so Sergeant Molly's heroism is a matter of National as well as local pride. For eight years she did her part in the great struggle and when the war was over she went back to her old home in Carlisle, where she engaged employment as a nurse, and where in later years she kept a little shop. To the soldiers she was always Captain Molly Pitcher and the French officers and soldiers admired the woman soldier so
