Deborah Sampson: 1760 - 1827
Author's Note: Courage rarely announces itself in key moments. It builds quietly through risk, resistance, and consequence, long before history picks winners for praise or memory.
The Courage They Didn’t Teach uncovers these stories one life at a time, advancing decade by decade from the mid-1700s onward. It skips hero worship to focus on times when backing down seemed bright, yet pressing on demanded real sacrifice.
Each entry spotlights one person who confronted danger, opposition, or erasure and stood firm without guaranteed payoff. Some faced blows in the open, enduring exile or violence. Others persisted through quiet restraint, patience, silence, or inner refusal to break under strain.
As a whole, the series upends the easy notion that courage belongs only to the bold, winners, or the famous. Instead, it emerges as a skill forged under pressure, molded by fallout, and honed well before any acclaim.
If acclaim comes at all.
Some battles don't begin with noise; the opening is quiet, without drums or banners. They start with a decision to step into roles never offered and remain there, day after day, knowing discovery carries consequences worse than failure.
That's the decision Deborah Sampson made.
A Life With No Cushion
Deborah Sampson was born December 17, 1760, in Plympton, Mass. Her early years were shaped by hardship; her father never returned from a sea voyage when she was five, leaving her mother unable to provide.
Deborah and her six siblings were placed with relatives or into indentured service, scattered before childhood could settle in.
She lived with an elderly widow who taught her to read when she was eight; by ten, she entered indentured service with the Jeremiah Thomas family in Middleborough, working their farm until she turned 18.
Those long days hardened her body, while the solitude sharpened her mind.
Deborah learned woodworking, weaving, and basic carpentry on her own. Later, she worked as a schoolteacher in the summers and as a weaver in the winters.
Her resiliance didn't suddenly arrive; it formed through constant repetition.
Crossing the Line
Enlistments began to fall by 1782 as the Revolutionary War dragged on. Deborah tried enlisting earlier in Middleborough under the name Timothy Thayer, but she was recognized and exposed. She returned her enlistment bonus, avoiding any charges, though her church turned its back on her.
She never backed down.
In 1782, as the Revolutionary War raged on, the patriotic Sampson disguised herself as a man named Robert Shurtleff and joined the Fourth Massachusetts Regiment.
At West Point, New York, she was assigned to Captain George Webb’s Company of Light Infantry. She was given the dangerous task of scouting neutral territory to assess the British buildup of men and materiel in Manhattan, which General George Washington contemplated attacking.
In June of 1782, Sampson and two sergeants led about 30 infantrymen on an expedition that ended with a confrontation—often one-on-one—with Tories. She led a raid on a Tory home that resulted in the capture of 15 men.
She blended easily because of her 5'7" height. Discovery carried risks ranging from imprisonment to execution, risks she accepted.
Her fellow soldiers noticed competence, not concealment, while officers valued steadiness and discipline.
Wounds Kept Quiet
It didn't take long before Deborah found combat; during a skirmish near Tarrytown, N.Y., in July 1782, she suffered a saber cut to the forehead and two musket balls lodged in her thigh.
Deborah begged fellow soldiers to leave her behind, but they carried her anyway. She feared hospital treatment because of the threat of exposure.
A surgeon treated her head wound, and later, alone, Deborah removed one musket ball herself using a penknife and sewing probe.
She couldn't remove the second ball lodged in her leg. Pain followed her for life, but in the meantime, she returned to duty with a limp.
Her silence preserved her survival.
Exposure Without Punishment
A malignant fever struck her in the summer of 1783, while her unit guarded Philadelphia. Deborah collapsed and was unconscious when taken to the hospital.
Her gender was discovered by Dr. Barnabas Binney, who chose discretion over exposure, arranging private care in his home until she recovered.
Despite their efforts, word reached senior command. Instead of punishment, she received an honorable discharge by Henry Knox (yet another reason to respect that man) on October 25, 1783, at West Point.
Related: Henry Knox: The Most Unlikely Hero of the American Revolution
Deborah's service ended without ceremony, while courage often does.
Fighting After the War
After shedding her uniform and returning home, she married farmer Benjamin Gannett on April 7, 1785. The couple settled in Sharon, Mass., where they raised three children and adopted an orphaned niece.
Farm life brought hardship, while war wounds never fully healed.
In 1792, Deborah petitioned Massachusetts for back pay and received compensation, with interest. However, despite the back pay, financial strain persisted.
Later, Deborah began touring New England and New York, talking publicly while wearing her uniform and performing military drills.
However, starting in March 1802, Sampson began a lecture tour of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and New York. She was the first woman in America to do so. On her journey, she spoke in Boston, Providence, Holden, Worcester, Brookfield, Springfield, Northampton, Albany, Schenectady, Ballston, and New York City. She made this journey alone and was often ill. During her stay in Albany, on September 11 and 12 of 1802, Sampson recorded that she had “taken Very Sick with the tooth ake [sic] and ague in my face.” The following day, she stated that she was “No better. in Extreem [sic] pain. no rest Day nor Night.” Despite these recurring maladies, she completed her lecture circuit and returned home in April 1803.
A Different Kind of Victory
Deborah Sampson fell ill and died of yellow fever on April 29, 1827, in Sharon, Mass. Her grave at Rock Ridge Cemetery bears her name and a simple truth: "The Female Soldier."
Herman Mann wrote the story of Deborah's life in 1797 called The Female Review; or, Memoirs of an American Young Lady.
Deborah Sampson didn't live a life of rebellion; it was one of endurance. She disappeared into danger to serve, then returned to claim what survival demanded of her.
Some battles require banners, while others require remaining unseen long enough to ensure the work is finished. A role opens, a uniform waits, and a woman takes a tremendous risk by stepping forward, knowing that her surrender will cost more than any wound.
Next in the Series
In a war that no uniform could protect him, James Armistead was enslaved and overlooked, navigating enemy lines where speaking too much meant death. He relied on patience and silence, risking everything for victories that wouldn't bring immediate freedom, showing that significant triumphs often happen far from the battlefield, and long before recognition.
