Some Revolutionary War stories blaze across the record with bold strokes. Think famous generals, dramatic battlefield moments, and names etched into monuments. Others, like that of Lemuel Peterson, glow quietly from the margins, waiting for someone to trace their outline. Peterson wasn’t a seasoned officer or a celebrated patriot. He was a boy from Cumberland County, New Jersey, barely thirteen years old when he stepped away from home and into the violent churn of the American Revolution.

To mark the United States’ 250th birthday, the Daughters of the American Revolution has joined forces with America250, the nationwide commemoration of our country’s semiquincentennial, to pay tribute to Revolutionary War Patriots. As part of the celebration, I’ll be sharing the stories of those laid to rest in Delaware County, with help from Kathi Hirons Kesterson -the regent of the Paul Revere Chapter of Muncie’s DAR– over the next several Fridays.

Lemuel Peterson was born on February 22, 1764, in Cumberland County, New Jersey. Less than a month after turning thirteen, he made a bold choice: on March 1, 1777, he volunteered aboard a privateer commanded by Captain Lemuel Seers out of Little Egg Harbor¹. Just beyond the mouth of the Delaware River near the Cape Henlopen Lighthouse, Peterson found himself in the thick of real action when his crew overtook a British brig. They killed ten or eleven of its men, captured nine others, and hauled the vessel -loaded with Jamaican spirits and fresh lemons²– to Bell’s Landing. There, it was condemned as a lawful prize, and its cargo was divided up among the victorious privateers³.

Peterson wrapped up his first stretch of service on June 16, 1777, and headed home- briefly. By the following August, he was drafted into the New Jersey Militia and found himself back in uniform. This time, he served under Colonel Lemuel Seers (fresh off a promotion from privateer captain), Captain Benajah Thompson, and Lieutenant Hans Peterson.

The company first settled in at Bell’s Landing before marching on to Mount Holly, New Jersey, where Peterson spent most of his second tour. Years later, he recalled that “the British army in its passage from Philadelphia to New York passed through New Jersey while I was at Mount Holly but the soldiers at that place were not ordered as other portions of the New Jersey Militia were to impede or intercept their march⁴.”

It seems that Lemuel Peterson received a written discharge from Captain Thompson sometime after July 5, 1778, but it was later lost⁵. All told, Peterson gave roughly fifteen months of service to the fledgling American cause, an extraordinary commitment for someone who was only thirteen and fourteen years old at the time! After the war, he settled back into life in Cumberland County, New Jersey, and remained there until 1785.

From New Jersey, Peterson struck out for Kent County, Delaware, where he spent the next eighteen years. Eventually, his journey continued westward with nearly six years in Beaver County, Pennsylvania. After he crossed into the Indiana Territory, Peterson lived in Union County, then Rush County, and finally, Delaware⁶.

On May 2, 1835, seventy-one-year-old Lemuel Peterson appeared before Delaware County Circuit Court Judges William Van Metre and William McCoy to try and obtain his Revolutionary War pension. “Persons with whom I am acquainted and who can testify of my character for veracity are Abraham Buckles [and] William Poland,” Peterson stated, adding “I hereby relinquish every claim whatever to a pension or annuity except the present and declare, that my name is not on the Pension Roll of the agency of any state⁷.”

Many years after the Revolutionary War, it’s fairly simple to verify the service of someone like Lemuel Peterson. From muster rolls to pension files and regimental histories, most is digitized and sits just a few clicks away. In 1832, though, things weren’t nearly so clear. Records were scattered, spelling was fluid, and memories didn’t always line up neatly. Unfortunately, Peterson learned that lesson the hard way.

Although he offered a detailed account of his service, his claim hit a wall for one unavoidable reason: his age. He’d served honorably, but he’d done so as a boy, too young in the government’s eyes to qualify for a pension. In the end, the board rejected his application not because they doubted his story, but because the rules of the era left him standing on the wrong side of the line.

Unfortunately, no one knows when Lemuel Peterson died. No one knows where he’s buried, either, but a cenotaph in Muncie’s Beech Grove Cemetery remembers him. Today, Peterson’s service reads as unmistakable: a teenager who stepped into the chaos of war not once, but twice, and carried those memories across states, decades, and the slow westward push of a young nation. His pension application may have been rejected, but Lemuel Peterson’s record wasn’t erased. Two and a half centuries later, we can trace his path from the deck of a privateer near Cape Henlopen to the quiet Indiana communities where he spent his final years.

Sources Cited
1 “Peterson, Lemuel; New Jersey Privateer,” U.S. Revolutionary War Pensions, 1800–1900, digital images, Fold3 (https://www.fold3.com: accessed 7 November 2025), pension file R21900; from Case Files of Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Applications Based on Revolutionary War Service, compiled ca. 1800–ca. 1912, documenting the period ca. 1775–ca. 1900, NARA microfilm publication M804, roll 1918; Records of the Veterans Administration, Record Group 15, National Archives, Washington, D.C.; transcribed by Kathryn Kesterson.
2 Barnet, B. (1976, July 3). Pvt. Polen Watched Redcoats Quit on Grandest Day in World History. The Muncie Evening Press. p. 35.
3 (See footnote 2). 
4 (See footnote 1). 
5 (See footnote 1). 
6 (See footnote 1). 
7 Rejected or Suspended Applications for Revolutionary War Pensions. Washington, D.C.: n.p., 1852.