
The Continental Marines at Nassau
When the Second Continental Congress authorized the creation of the Continental Marines on November 10, 1775, few could foresee their pivotal role in orchestrating North America’s first amphibious assault less than four months later. The operation against Nassau, on New Providence Island in the Bahamas, was born of necessity, marked by improvisation, and ultimately set the tone for Marine Corps operations—an audacious legacy that endures to this day.
Origins: Gunpowder Desperation and Strategic Vision
The American Revolution’s early years were marked by chronic shortages, especially of gunpowder. After the British seized stores destined for the Patriot cause, intelligence uncovered that significant quantities were stockpiled at Nassau. The Continental Congress approached this challenge with typical Revolutionary War creativity—they would use their brand-new Navy and even newer Marines to solve an Army problem. The Congress’ official instructions to Commodore Esek Hopkins focused on patrolling the Virginia and Carolina coasts, but “secret orders” directed attention to the Bahamas, setting in motion a bold plan to directly address the fledgling army’s supply crisis.
Organization: The Making of an Amphibious Battalion
With barely three months’ existence, the Continental Marines had hastily raised five companies of around 300 men. Captain Samuel Nicholas, tasked as the first Marine officer, oversaw their training and organization in Philadelphia. Their equipment was uneven—many wore civilian garb rather than uniforms and carried whatever muskets and bayonets were available. The uniform regulations specifying the now famous green coats with white facings were not promulgated until several months after the raid was over.
The Voyage South: Challenges and Preparation
Hopkins’ fleet consisted of the ships Alfred, Hornet, Wasp, Fly, Andrew Doria, Cabot, Providence, and Columbus. In addition to ships’ crews, the fleet carried more than 200 Continental Marines under the command of Captain Nicholas. The expedition began inauspiciously on January 4, 1776, when the fleet attempted to leave Philadelphia but became trapped by ice in the Delaware River for six weeks.
When they finally reached the Atlantic on February 17, 1776, the small fleet faced additional challenges. Disease found its way onboard most of the ships. Smallpox was a huge concern and was reported on at least four ships.
The fleet’s journey to the Caribbean took nearly two weeks of sailing through challenging winter conditions. Despite the hardships, Hopkins maintained the element of surprise—British intelligence had detected American naval preparations but assumed the fleet was bound for New York or Boston, not the distant Bahamas.
Implementation: Amphibious Innovation at Nassau
The element of surprise was initially lost when the fleet’s approach triggered alarm at Nassau. Plans to storm the stronger Fort Nassau dissolved, and Hopkins convened a council to identify a new landing point. A revised strategy saw about 230 Marines and 50 sailors, led by Captain Nicholas, land from longboats two miles east of the weaker Fort Montagu on March 3, 1776. They wore a patchwork of civilian clothes and white breeches—some men had managed to find green shirts as a form of identification. They set out marching toward the fort armed with muskets and bayonets, looking perhaps more like pirates than soldiers.
Their advance was met with only token resistance. Outnumbered and ill-prepared, local militia withdrew as Nicholas’s men captured Fort Montagu in what historian Edwin Simmons called a “battle as bemused as it was bloodless.”
Nicholas decided to wait until morning to advance on the town. His decision was tactically sound given the circumstances—he’d lost surprise, did not know the enemy’s strength, was operating in unknown terrain, night was falling, and he lacked naval support. However, this prudent military decision allowed Governor Browne to escape with over 80% of Nassau’s gunpowder stores, turning what could have been a complete strategic victory into a partial success. This incident highlights the tension between tactical prudence and strategic urgency that was destined to become a recurring theme in amphibious warfare.
The next day the Americans took Fort Nassau and arrested the Governor, Montfort Browne. Browne had already sent most of the coveted gunpowder on to St. Augustine, Florida, the night before. Despite this, American forces seized cannons, shells, and other military stores before occupying Nassau for nearly two weeks.
Marine discipline and flexibility were evident, as they pivoted from their surprise landing, conducted operations deep inland, and created their evolving amphibious reputation. The fleet departed on March 17, not before stripping Nassau and its forts of anything militarily useful.

Aftermath: Growing Pains and Enduring Lessons
Though the mission failed in its primary objective of securing a cache of gunpowder, its operational successes far outweighed the losses. The Marines returned with large quantities of artillery, munitions, and several recaptured vessels. On the return leg, they faced and fought (though did not defeat) HMS Glasgow; the squadron returned to New England by April 8, with several casualties including the first Marine officer killed in action, Lt. John Fitzpatrick.
Controversy followed—Hopkins was censured for failing to engage British forces as directed in his official orders. Nicholas was promoted to major and tasked with raising additional Marine companies for new frigates then under construction. These developments reflected both the lessons learned and the growing recognition of the value of the Marine force in expeditionary operations ashore.
A second raid on Nassau by Continental Marines occurred from January 27–30, 1778, under Captain John Peck Rathbun. Marines and seamen landed covertly at midnight, quickly seizing Fort Nassau and liberating American prisoners held by the British. The raiders proceeded to capture five anchored vessels, dismantled Fort Montagu, spiked the guns, and loaded 1,600 lbs of captured gunpowder before departing. This bold operation marked the first time the Stars and Stripes flew over a foreign fort and showcased the resourcefulness of American forces, who managed to strike a valuable blow against British power in the Caribbean without suffering casualties.
Long-Term Implications for the United States Marine Corps
The Nassau operation set powerful precedents:
- Amphibious Warfare Doctrine: This was the Marines’ first organized amphibious landing, shaping the Corps’ future focus on rapid deployment from sea to shore, a hallmark that continues in modern doctrine. This was likely referred to at the time as a Naval landing, as the word amphibious did not come into use in this context until the 1930s.
- Adaptability Under Fire: The improvisational tactics used at Nassau foreshadowed the Corps’ reputation for flexibility and mission focus.
- Naval Integration: Joint operations with the Navy not only succeeded tactically, but helped institutionalize the Marine-Navy partnership, with Marines serving as shipboard security, landing parties, and naval infantry.
- Legacy of Boldness: This first operation established a “first-in” ethos and a culture embracing challenge and audacity, foundational principles in Marine culture.
After the war, the Continental Marines disbanded, only to be re-established in 1798. Yet the legacy of Nassau endured. “Semper Fidelis”—always faithful—has its roots in that March 1776 assault, when the odds seemed long and the stakes critical.
Today’s United States Marine Corps draws a direct lineage from that small, ragtag battalion of Marines scrambling ashore at Nassau, forever entwining its identity with the promise, risk, and legacy of that first storied mission. Every modern Marine, stepping from ship to shore, walks in the footprints of Captain Samuel Nicholas and his men—soldiers of the sea whose boldness, improvisation, and teamwork have echoed across the centuries.









“America at 250: A Revolution Remembered… or Forgotten?”
By John Turley
On May 10, 2025
In Commentary, History
I’m old enough to remember the 200th anniversary of the American Revolution. Bicentennial symbols were everywhere. Liberty Bells, eagles, and the ubiquitous Bicentennial logo of the red, white and blue stylized five-point star. They could be found on hats, T-shirts, socks, soft drink cups, beer cans, and even a special “Spirit of ‘76” edition of the Ford Mustang II. Commemorative events and celebrations were being planned everywhere and people had “bicentennial fever”.
But the 250th anniversary is not attracting that same kind of attention or interest. I wonder why that is. Perhaps it’s that the name for a 250th anniversary, Semiquincentennial, doesn’t seem to roll off the tongue the way Bicentennial does. But I suspect it’s far more than just a tongue twisting name.
The Bicentennial came after a decade of national trauma. The Vietnam War, Watergate, and the civil rights struggles had all roiled the country. By 1976, most Americans wanted to feel good about the country again. It became a giant, colorful celebration of “American resilience.”
While the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution is being marked by numerous events, commemorations, and official proclamations, most are local, and it has not yet captured widespread public attention or generated the scale of national excitement seen during previous milestone anniversaries.
The anniversary arrives at a time of deep political polarization, which has complicated celebration plans. There is an ongoing debate within the group tasked with planning the celebration, the U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission, about how to present American history. Some members advocate for a traditional, celebratory approach focusing on the Founding Fathers and patriotic themes. Others push for a more inclusive narrative that acknowledges the complexities of American history, including the experiences of women, enslaved people, Indigenous communities, and other marginalized groups
Beyond the commission itself, some historians note that the “history wars”—ongoing disputes throughout society over how U.S. history should be taught and remembered—have made it harder to generate broad, enthusiastic buy-in for the anniversary among the general public.
Commemorations in places like Lexington and Concord have seen anti-Trump protesters carrying signs such as “Resist Like It’s 1775” and “No Kings,” explicitly drawing parallels between opposition to King George III and contemporary resistance to what they perceive as autocratic tendencies in current leadership. At the reenactment of Patrick Henry’s “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death” speech, Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin was met with boos and protest chants, highlighting how the Revolution’s legacy is being invoked in current political struggles.
While some organizers and historians hope the anniversary can serve as a unifying moment—emphasizing that “patriotism should not be a partisan issue”—the reality is that commemorations have often become forums for expressing contemporary political grievances and anxieties. The presence of both celebratory and dissenting voices at these events reflects the enduring debate over what it means to be American and who gets to define that identity. The complexity and messiness of American history, combined with current societal tensions, may dampen the celebratory mood and make it harder for people to connect emotionally with the anniversary.
Even the 250th logo has become a source of dispute, although it is one of the few areas of disagreement that is nonpartisan and tends to be about stylistic and artistic merits of the logo. Proponents of the new logo appreciate its modern and inclusive design emphasizing that the flowing ribbon represents “unity, cooperation, and harmony,” and reflects the nation’s aspirations as it commemorates this milestone. Detractors are concerned about the legibility of the “250” and the lack of traditional American symbols, such as stars, which could have reinforced its patriotic theme.
Surveys by history related organizations suggest that most Americans are not yet thinking about the 250th anniversary. The run-up to 2026 may see increased attention, but as of now, the anniversary has not broken through as a major topic of national conversation. If the anniversary continues to be viewed as a contentious partisan undertaking, it may never gain widespread popularity, and the general public may choose to stay away.
A friend who is a member of the West Virginia 250th committee told me that they had an initial meeting at which nothing was accomplished, and they have had no meeting since. It seems to me, this is up to us, the citizens, to ensure that the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution is appropriately remembered. We don’t have to live in an area where a Revolutionary War event occurred for us to recognize its events. Here in West Virginia, in October of 2024 we commemorated the 250th anniversary of the battle of Point Pleasant which many consider a precursor to the American Revolution. This event was not organized by any state or national group. It was the result of efforts on the part of the City of Point Pleasant and the West Virginia Sons of the American Revolution.
We do not need to depend on the government; we the people can hold local commemorations of revolutionary events that occurred in other areas. We can hold commemorations of the Battle of Bunker Hill, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the Battle of Saratoga and many other events. It will take the initiative of local people to organize these events.
It will be our great shame if we allow this the commemoration of an event so significant in both American and world history to be turned into something that divides us rather unites us and strengthens our common bond.