A Little Piece Of History 
By Tim Knapp
Every time we take to the field for a day of relaxation and detecting we all carry with us those visions of recovering the coins or relics which have literally “haunted” our imaginations for years. For some, it is the glimmer of the earliest of United States silver coinage that fills their dreams and stimulates that extra research effort which they are so hopeful will finally put such a  coin in their hand. For others, it is the alluring prospect of a fine Confederate button or plate which causes the alarm clock to be set at 4:00 A.M. on their only day off and to drive three hours to that site in which they’ve invested so much hope. Whatever be the particular recoveries which so motivate us, there is one common goal which “drives” us -- the pursuit for a “connection with”  history. Whether coins or relics, every recovery we consider significant is a small piece of our American history. Some finds, of course, will possess greater historical significance than others, but all of them, in their own way, bring to us another piece of our past that would have remained hidden had we not been so persistent in pursuing our goals. I have been detecting since I was nine or ten years old. Now, at the age of thirty-four, everything I recover still gives me the same “rush” which I felt when I dug my first coin. I doubt  this will ever change
The sites which I hunt most frequently are abandoned home sites dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Over the years, the Northeast has been very good to me, yielding many early coins. Beyond those desired finds, though, all old home sites will invariably also yield early buttons. For over twenty years, these coin “look-a-likes” were nothing to me more than a nuisance. Each time I would recover a disc shaped object, my first reaction had been to feel for the shank on the back before even looking at it.  If it was there -- “Oh well. Just another button” -- and into the big box it would go with the rest of the “disappointments.” After two decades it has been only in the past year that I began to realize that these previously so-called “disappointments”, were, by far, the most significant recoveries I have ever made.
During one of my trips to a favorite eighteenth century house site I found a
small pewter button. After arriving home and cleaning the surface soil away, I noticed some writing on its face. In an arc across the top were the block letters “MASS.”, below which appeared in Roman numerals “VIII.”   Below these central numerals was the oddest component of all - the graphic representation of a human skull atop crossed bones in pure “pirate” fashion. Being then very new to the Treasure Depot, and seeing some of the interesting

recoveries of others,  I decided to post a picture of this intriguing little button.  It certainly did not take very long to be provided the information which I sought. What I had found was surely not just another common
button to be tossed in the “disappointments” box. It was from the Revolutionary War. Specifically, I had found a “cuff” size button of the 8th Massachusetts Regiment, circa 1782. I also learned that this button was a rare
find indeed. Most importantly, it took little thought to realize that, from a historical perspective, this small bit
of pewter was more significant than any coin I’d found in the prior twenty years.  
After the recovery of the 8th Massachusetts button, I could barely wait to hit the site again. On my next trip, I certainly had much less interest in finding coins. The Revolutionary War bug had me, and I was on a mission to
find another one of those little buttons. I searched for about an hour, but without the intently desired result. A Connecticut colonial coin and several civilian buttons emerged, but none of those now so alluring buttons of
Washington’s army. As it was now nearly dark, I decided to give it a try again the next day. It was while walking toward the truck and getting in those last few sweeps that I heard that “sweet” signal. It was too dark to see the screen for a target ID so I turned on the screen backlight and read a solid 4.5 on the scale. This is where pewter ID’s on my GTI 1500, and the magical word “button” lit on my mental screen. After minimal digging and scanning of the soil, there it was. By the feel of the shank it was assuredly a button, but it was now much too dark to immediately answer the burning question.
It was a real test of willpower to refrain from removing the surface soil in the truck, but I applied all which I could muster and waited until getting home to clean it under running water. As the surface soil fell away, the letters and numbers became totally clear, but they were nothing like those of the 8th Massachusetts button. There was what appeared to be “LIy” in interlocking script across the upper half of the face, with “3 C.R” in block lettering beneath that. Also unlike the 8th Massachusetts example, this button was in virtually perfect condition. There was no rim loss whatsoever and the casting sprue projections still remained around the outer edge and on the shank.
 I could wait not a minute longer to learn what this button was, and immediately called a good friend who has nearly unexcelled knowledge of the Continental Army. What he told me was nothing less than incredible.
Those familiar with the full array of buttons worn by Washington’s troops would have recognized that what I was holding was a “cuff” size button of the light infantry company of the Third Connecticut Regiment, circa 1781. 
And, those especially familiar with this pattern in particular would have shared my own total amazement that what I held was only the second specimen of this button to have ever been recovered, the “book button” having been
found at West Point in 1922 and being since that time within the collection of the New-York Historical Society.  In nearly 225 years, only two of these Continental Light Infantry Corps buttons have ever emerged, with almost
eighty years separating those two recoveries.
The specimen which all those who have read Albert’s book have seen illustrated therein was recovered by the self-styled “Field Exploration Committee” of the New-York Historical Society, a group of exceptional
pioneers in early American military relic recovery led by William Louis Calver and Reginald Pelham Bolton.  In their annual report to the Society after the close of the season, this unique recovery was discussed:

The private’s button, No.9 on the plate, found on the barracks site at West Point, is inscribed “L.Iy. 3 C.R.” and pertains to the Light Infantry company of the 3rd Connecticut Regiment. … The Light Infantry Company of the 3rd Connecticut Regiment numbered fifty-four men. The officers were Capt. Roger Welles, Lieut. William
Lynn, and Ensign Jacob Kingsbury. … The company was one of ten detached from the Connecticut line in 1781. These in turn were but a part of the division of thirty-six companies drafted from regiments of the several states, and designed for service in the South. The Division commanded by Lafayette assisted in the siege
of Yorktown. Five companies of Light Infantry from as many Connecticut regiments, of which the Third was one, with two Massachusetts and one Rhode Island company, formed a battalion, which, under Col. Gimat, a French officer, and Major Welles of the 3rd Connecticut, led the column that stormed one of the enemy’s redoubts at Yorktown, on the night of October 14, 1781, thereby hastening the surrender. 

The presence of light infantry within the Continental Army, as with so much else about its structure, was based on the British army of the colonial and Revolutionary periods.  Many Americans who would, a dozen or so years later, become Continental officers had served within provincial militia units during the French and Indian War.  Throughout the entire colonial period, the typical British battalion consisted of ten companies, including eight
companies of musketmen and the two “flank” companies, one being of grenadiers, and the other of light infantry.  The latter, as logical, were called upon for special scouting, skirmishing, and “shock attack” duties,
being essentially equatable to twentieth-century ranger units.  As early as 1777, Washington had begun to develop a centralized corps of light infantry, which, during the period of the Philadelphia and Monmouth campaigns, was most often commanded by New Jersey’s Brigadier General William Maxwell.  During its second phase, under the development and command of the Pennsylvanian, Brigadier General Anthony Wayne, the Continental Light Infantry Corps began to adopt uniform modifications such as shortened coat tails and cocked hats
cut to the form of visored caps.  It was not until the return of Major General the Marquis de Lafayette, however, that a much more distinctive and elite dress was made available to the Corps.  With virtually all of the expenses being personally paid by Lafayette, the “Lights” were soon smartly outfitted with differentiated uniforms and
equipment imported from France.  Corps officers and non-coms were provided with, respectively, distinctive swords and hangers; non-coms were supplied with cast brass waist belt plates bearing an internal disc prominently marked “USA” in vertically overlapping script; and all members of the Corps were issued leather helmets dressed with cockades and multi-colored plumes.  It was under Lafayette’s management and command that the “Lights” reached their most distinguished appearance and status as the Corps marched from the area of West Point to Virginia in the spring of 1781.  After six months of marching, counter-marching and constantly careful maneuvering, Lafayette’s tiny force of the Light Infantry Corps and Virginia militia was joined by the masterful forced march of the allied forces of Washington and Rochambeau to accomplish the coup de grace siege forcing the surrender of Cornwallis in October, basically ending the war in all but the Carolinas.

Aside from the two specimens of the Third Connecticut’s light company, no distinctive buttons relating to the Continental Light Infantry Corps are known to exist.  Presumably, the mainstay for the “Lights” during 1781, as
with the rest of the army, were the classic “USA” buttons.  In fact, since the two known specimens are identical, it may well be that they were ad hoc additions developed only by the officers of the Third Connecticut Regiment’s
light company.  Until a specimen is found from one of the other Connecticut regiments or from a light infantry company of another state, it remains the most conservative interpretation that the Third Connecticut’s company alone wore a distinctive button with the light infantry association so prominently displayed.  In fact, given only two surviving examples, both being of the small size, it has been hypothesized that these buttons may have only been
made and used for the attachment of the cockade to the leather cap.  Thus, in the most extreme case, it might be that only fifty or so of these buttons were ever cast. It is certainly hoped that further Continental Light Infantry
Corps buttons are found to help broaden a very narrow story.  Nevertheless, if these two specimens are the only examples to have survived, their importance remains unaltered.  One could hardly imagine more evocative
“morsels of genuine history.”

As I learned this information, the small button was no longer just another relic. This truly was the find of a lifetime. With only fifty-four men in the Third Connecticut’s light infantry company, the odds of finding a button from
one of their uniforms have to be less than the odds of winning the lottery. All the hours spent swinging a coil over the iron- laden soil of the Hudson Highlands had finally paid off. Too say I was excited would be a major
understatement. The feeling of accomplishment that was created by recovering that button is something I can't explain, but will certainly never forget in the least detail. I feel I was truly blessed in finding this little piece of
American history, and find it hard to believe that I will ever recover another relic of such significance.
But, who knows?  Every time each of us takes to the field, anything is possible; any dream can become reality.

Happy hunting and very best regards, Tim

1  Calver, William Louis and Reginald Pelham Bolton, History Written
    With Pick And Shovel, pages 138 to 140.  New York, the New-York  
    Historical Society, 1950.