Rushing Like Tigers: The Marines at Harpers Ferry
By: Mac CaltriderPosted on February 15, 2025
Executive Editor’s note: This article exemplifies the bravery of a small band of Marines as the U.S. was entering its most turbulent time as a nation. While technically, this fits into the time period we covered in our February issue, the raid on Harpers Ferry in 1859 served as a precursor to a bloody fight to preserve the Union less than two years later. See page 28 for more about Marines during the Civil War.
The fight was over in less than three minutes. When the gun smoke cleared, one Marine lay dead and another lay critically wounded. Standing in shock around them were 10 safe and unscathed hostages. The failed seizure of the federal armory at Harpers Ferry also left 10 insurgents dead and seven more taken as prisoners. The sudden flash of deadly violence on Oct. 18, 1859, put an end to an attempted insurrection and brought the nation one step closer to the bloodiest war in its short history. Like many monumental moments in America’s story, the outcome depended on little more than the courage and readiness of a few Marines.
Send the Marines
A cool, autumn breeze rustled through the foliage of the stately White Oaks. The old trees stood tall like sentries around the periphery of the Marine barracks. The oldest post in the then-84-year-old Marine Corps, sat perched at the corner of 8th and I Streets in Washington D.C. The Marine detachment stationed there consisted of young men whose sea service had taken them to faraway tropical scenes like Brazil, Panama and Paraguay according to Jon-Erik Gilot’s article “Private Luke Glenn: The Unlikely Celebrity of Harpers Ferry.” But on that fateful October morning, the leathernecks would be needed much closer to home.
Among the Marines at “8th and I” was First Lieutenant Israel Greene. Already a pioneer of Marine artillery, Greene was the senior officer on deck that Monday morning and was thus in charge of the roughly 100 Marines there. Greene was making his way across the Washington Navy Yard—clad in his blue uniform, complete with a ceremonial saber—when a frantic messenger came hurrying toward him.
Chief Clerk Walsh of the U.S. Navy, running and out of breath, brought the alarming news that a violent insurrection was taking root in the small river crossroads of Harpers Ferry, Va. The insurgents—led by abolitionist and federal fugitive John “Osawatomie” Brown, of Bleeding Kansas fame—were striving to seize the town’s federal armory.
Twenty-four hours after firing their first shot, Brown’s band of raiders were now embattled with the townspeople and members of the local militia. The local response was able to fix Brown’s raiders in a small fire engine house on the edge of the armory grounds, but a dangerous standoff devolved into a precarious hostage situation. The skirmishing between Brown’s men and the armed locals had already left six citizens killed (including the town’s mayor) and eight wounded. The nation needed a rapid response of trained professionals to quash the uprising before it could escalate into a full-scale rebellion. Greene’s detachment of Marines—65 miles away—were ready to answer the call.
A Train Bound for Glory
Less than three hours after news of the turmoil arrived in Washington, D.C., 86 Marines boarded the 3 o’clock train for Harpers Ferry. Greene counted his men as they boarded, ensuring each man was properly dressed and armed for whatever might meet them in the mountains of western Virginia.
His men were clothed in sky-blue trousers and jackets and were equipped with U.S. Model 1842 smoothbore muskets. (Executive Editor’s note: See the February issue of Leatherneck to learn more about the M1842.) The design of the nearly 10-pound firearm was already two decades old, but the Marines of “8th and I” didn’t mind carrying the aged weapons. They were capable of hitting three targets a minute at distances beyond 300 yards. The leathernecks were also fond of the weapon for another reason: it came with a 17.5-inch bayonet with a thick, triangular blade. With the bayonet attached, the firearm transformed into a six-and-a-half-foot spear. It was a barbaric weapon, better suited for ancient Hoplites than 19th-century marksmen, but the Marines would soon be putting them to use in close quarters. Greene also brought two 12-pounder Howitzers to their rendezvous with history—just in case things got out of hand.
Among the Marines aboard, was a young private by the name of Luke Quinn. The train ferrying the men to the mountains was filled with that same electric anticipation that has permeated troop transports since before Myrmidons waited in the holds of their ships to hit the shores of Troy. While most of the Marines were “exhilarated with excitement” about what awaited them at the end of the line, Quinn’s thoughts were likely elsewhere.
At just 23 years old, Quinn had already squeezed a lot out of life. He immigrated to the United States from Ireland when he was 9 years old. He joined the Marines when he was eligible and served for four years. He previously served aboard the USS Perry and the USS St. Lawrence. Now, in mid-October, as the passenger train rumbled west through Maryland, Quinn was only weeks from leaving the military.
Nearing the end of his enlistment and having honorably served the country that gave him a new life, the promise of opportunity was at his fingertips. But Quinn would not live to see another dawn.
The Arsenal
Harpers Ferry sits nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, where the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers converge before flowing southeast toward Washington. A small town existed there since the 1730s, when a ferry was first established to help travelers cross the large waterways. In 1783, Thomas Jefferson passed through the town and famously remarked at its beauty. He claimed the view alone was worth a voyage across the Atlantic.
The combination of the surrounding mountains (which created a natural defense for the site) and unlimited access to hydropower made Harpers Ferry an ideal location to forge weapons. In 1799, construction began on the United States Armory and Arsenal at Harpers Ferry. The site expanded, eventually becoming the second-largest supplier of arms to the U.S. Army. By the time the Marines were headed for Harpers Ferry, the armory employed more than 400 people and had already produced more than 600,000 firearms. But while the surrounding mountains protected the town, they also offered Brown’s raiders concealment. Brown believed Harpers Ferry was the perfect place to begin his rebellion as it could also equip an army of freed slaves and abolitionists he hoped would materialize.
Roughly an hour after departing from Washington, the Marines arrived in Sandy Point Junction, just a mile outside Harpers Ferry. There, Greene and his men rendezvoused with Robert E. Lee, who was still a colonel in the U.S. Army. Lee was on leave in Arlington when news of the raid reached Washington and was dispatched to meet Greene in the vicinity of Harpers Ferry to take charge as the ranking officer. Lee arrived at Sandy Point Junction unarmed and clad in civilian clothes. He was accompanied by his aide-de-camp, Lieutenant J.E.B. Stuart.
After a brief discussion with Lee, Greene led his men toward the armory. They arrived roughly an hour before midnight and entered the armory grounds through the back gate under the cover of darkness. Once in position, the Marines dispersed the drunk and bloodthirsty militiamen, then quietly went about setting a cordon around the fire engine house. Their orders for the night were simple: no one gets in or out.
Three Minutes of Fury
As sunrise turned the peaceful waters of the Potomac a shimmering gold and illuminated the 300-foot vertical face of nearby Maryland Heights, the Marines were alert, poised, and ready for the impending violence.
During the night, none of the men in Brown’s company, nor any of their 10 hostages, attempted to escape and break through the cordon. The previous day’s casualties left no doubt in the minds of the Marines that Brown and his men were willing to spill blood for their cause. Lee tried to end the conflict peacefully and ordered Stuart to negotiate with Brown under a white flag. When parleying proved futile, the operation was turned over to the Marines.
Stuart waved his feathered cap, signaling to the waiting Marines that negotiations had failed. Immediately, several Marines armed with sledgehammers advanced to the barricaded doors of the small building. The double doors were bolted with steel nails, tied closed with rope, and braced by the two fire engines inside. Brown and his men opened fire through the makeshift embrasures carved out of the doors. The Marines were undeterred.
For several minutes, the hammer-wielding Marines braved Brown’s fire and attacked the doors. The effort was unsuccessful, and Greene called his men back. He reassessed the situation and directed his men to use a nearby ladder as a battering ram. A dozen Marines slung their weapons, grabbed the makeshift ram, and sprinted for the doors. The first attempt failed. Undaunted, the Marines backed up and tried again. This time, their efforts paid off. A piece of the heavy door stove in, leaving a hole just large enough for one man to squeeze through. Seizing the opportunity, Greene drew his saber and crawled into the breach. Behind him followed Quinn.
Inside the cluttered and gun smoke-filled building, Greene rose to his feet, looking for a target.
“There’s Osawatomie!” shouted one of the hostages, pointing to Brown, who was crouched beside one of the engines with his carbine in hand. Brown fired, mortally striking Quinn in the abdomen. Greene pounced before Brown could fire again. The young lieutenant slashed Brown across the neck, sending the fugitive to the ground. The aggressive lieutenant then thrust his sword into Brown’s chest, but the thin blade bent double. Greene drew the now-bent sword high into the air and slammed the hilt down onto Brown’s head. As Greene beat Brown into submission, more Marines poured through the breach and into the chaotic scene. Stepping over the wounded and still-screaming Quinn, Pvt Matthew Ruppert moved into the fray. He was immediately shot in the face. Behind him, more Marines flowed through the hole like an unstoppable blue wave.
Two Marines quickly bayoneted and killed one raider who was cowering under a fire engine. Another Marine disarmed a raider near the building’s far wall, then pinned the man against the stone with his 17.5-inch blade, killing him. Before all the leathernecks began stabbing the now-surrendering combatants, Greene ordered them to take prisoners. In less than three minutes, the fighting was over. All the surviving raiders inside were captured and the hostages were freed without further incident.
Rushing Like Tigers
In the days following the rescue, Greene and a small detachment escorted John Brown to nearby Charles Town to be handed over to law enforcement. Less than two months later, Brown was hanged, making him the first American to be executed for treason. His final words—which he penned in a letter to his wife on the day of his execution—proved prophetic.
“I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.”
Just a year and a half after Brown’s ominous words, the country was ripped in half by the Civil War. Among those who died to mend that fissure and preserve the Union were 148 United States Marines, leaving Quinn’s sacrifice to fade into obscurity.
Quinn’s body was left in an unmarked grave on the western heights above town, where it remained for 68 years. Then, in 1927, a few Harpers Ferry residents attempted to locate Quinn’s resting place. Relying solely on oral tradition, the residents began to exhume a section of St. Peter’s cemetery. Six feet down, they uncovered a partial skeleton; the bones were wrapped in pieces of blue wool adorned with Marine Corps’ buttons.
Quinn was given a headstone and reburied in St. Peter’s cemetery. In 2012, Marine Corps League Detachment No. 1143 erected a small stone memorial and a flagpole at Quinn’s grave. For more than 160 years, his body has remained in that remote plot in the mountains, forever hallowing the ground that overlooks the historic river crossing.
Twenty-six years after the raid, Greene wrote fondly of the way Quinn and the other Marines boldly followed him into the engine house. “My only thought was to capture, or, if necessary, kill, the insurgents,” he wrote. “[My Marines] came rushing in like Tigers, as a storming assault is not a play-day sport.”
The Marines were not the only ones present that day who were satisfied with the execution of their duties. In a letter to the adjutant general, Robert E. Lee recalled the professionalism and courage of the Marine detachment as documented by Bernard C. Nulty in “United States Marines at Harper’s Ferry and in the Civil War.”
“I must also ask to express my entire commendation of the conduct of the detachment of Marines, who were at all times ready and prompt in the execution of any duty.”
Two years after the raid in Harpers Ferry, Lee traded in his blue uniform for Confederate gray to wage war against the United States.
Author’s bio: Mac Caltrider enlisted in the Marine Corps in 2009 and served with 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines until 2014. Caltrider has since written for various online and print publications, including Coffee or Die Magazine, Free Range American, and Leatherneck. He was the 2023 and 2024 recipient of the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation’s Master Sergeant Tom Bartlett Award. He is also the author of “Double Knot,” a memoir about his service in Afghanistan. Caltrider currently teaches English in Baltimore, Md.
