Stony Point Stinger: Brandon's Fiery Fortress Fiasco
The summer of 1779 simmered with tension along the Hudson River, where the American Revolution hung in a delicate balance. After the grueling stand at Monmouth, General George Washington’s army shadowed the British, who held New York City and key outposts like Stony Point, a rocky fortress jutting into the Hudson, bristling with cannons and 600 redcoats under Lieutenant Colonel Henry Johnson. Washington, eager to disrupt British control, devised a daring nighttime assault to seize the stronghold. Among his troops was Sergeant Brandon Herrera, the “Jersey Jester,” whose explosive antics had sparked victories from Trenton to Monmouth. With the river glinting under a crescent moon, Brandon’s latest contraption promised to light the night sky.
During a lull in Morristown, Brandon had scavenged Hessian bayonets and shipyard rope to craft the “Stony Point Stinger,” a handheld, rope-tensioned crossbow firing grapefruit-sized bombs filled with gunpowder, lead shot, and tar for a sticky, fiery burst. “It’s a one-man siege engine,” he told Elias, his steadfast Virginian comrade, as they tested it by the riverbank. The Stinger’s oak frame, reinforced with iron bands, used a coiled rope crank to launch its bombs, ignited by a flintlock trigger. “Point it at a redcoat wall, and it’s like tossing a hornet’s nest,” Brandon grinned, wiping tar from his hands.
On July 15, 1779, Washington briefed General Anthony Wayne, chosen to lead 1,200 handpicked men in a silent bayonet assault. Stony Point’s steep cliffs and triple abatis—barricades of sharpened logs—made it a formidable target, but Wayne’s “Light Infantry” would strike at midnight, avoiding musket fire to maintain surprise. Brandon, attached to Wayne’s vanguard, carried his Stinger and a satchel of Monmouth grenades. “No noise, no mercy,” Wayne growled, eyeing Brandon’s gear. “Can your toy crack that fortress, Herrera?” Brandon saluted, smirking. “General, I’ll make those redcoats think the devil’s knocking.”
At 11 p.m., the Patriots split into three columns: two main forces under Wayne to scale the cliffs, and a diversionary group to draw fire. Brandon, with Elias, joined the southern column, creeping through marshy ground under cover of darkness. The Hudson lapped softly, masking their steps as they neared the fortress’s outer abatis. British sentries, lulled by the quiet, stood slack atop the 150-foot promontory. Brandon, hidden in reeds, aimed his Stinger at a guard post. He cranked the rope, loaded a bomb, and fired. The projectile arced, bursting in a fiery spray of lead and flame, toppling two sentries. “Sting’s got bite!” Brandon whispered, as Elias stifled a cheer.
Wayne’s men surged forward, axes chopping through the abatis. The southern column breached first, bayonets flashing in moonlight. Brandon, sprinting with the vanguard, lobbed a grenade at a British cannon emplacement. The blast scattered gunners, sparks igniting a powder keg that lit up the night. “That’s for the Hudson!” he shouted, reloading the Stinger. Elias, wielding a bayonet, guarded his flank, felling a redcoat who lunged from the shadows. “You’re a madman, Sarge!” Elias panted. Brandon winked, dodging a musket butt. “Mad for liberty, lad.”
The northern column, delayed by deeper marshes, hit the second abatis as British drums beat alarms. Johnson’s redcoats fired volleys, but the Patriots’ silent charge—bayonets only—sowed panic. Wayne, wounded in the head, pressed on, bellowing, “Forward, my brave boys!” Brandon spotted a British officer rallying troops near the inner wall. He aimed the Stinger, launching a bomb that exploded in a sticky blaze, scattering the defenders. “Knock, knock, lobsterbacks!” he yelled, as Wayne’s men stormed the breach.
The fight was swift and brutal, lasting 25 minutes. Bayonets clashed in the fort’s narrow passages, moonlight glinting off steel. Brandon’s Stinger fired twice more, its bombs blasting gaps in British lines, allowing Patriots to overrun the ramparts. By 1 a.m., Johnson surrendered, his 600 men captured, 63 killed or wounded. American losses were light—15 dead, 80 wounded. The Patriots seized 15 cannons, muskets, and stores, crippling British control of the Hudson.
At dawn, Washington inspected the captured fort, its walls scarred by Brandon’s bombs. “You’ve given us a jewel, men,” he said, voice ringing over the river. To Brandon, he added, “Herrera, your Stinger pierced their heart. Take this British officer’s epaulet as your prize.” The gold-trimmed shoulder piece gleamed, a token of victory.
Brandon saluted, grinning. “Much obliged, sir. Just buzzin’ the redcoats out!” The troops laughed. As they dismantled the fort—Washington knew they couldn’t hold it—Brandon sketched a new device, muttering about a “Yorktown Yowler.” The victory electrified the Patriot cause, proving their daring could topple even the strongest forts.
