The bronze and stone statue that once rose conspicuously from a steep hill at the intersection of Clift Street and Pequot Avenue in Mystic had held fast to that post for over a century, flaunting the following inscription: “Erected 1889 by the State of Connecticut … to commemorate the heroic achievement of Major John Mason and his comrades, who, near this spot in 1637, overthrew the Pequot Indians and preserved the settlements from destruction.”

How many scores of people walked, jogged, biked or drove by the 8-foot-tall likeness of the controversial colonial commander — decked out in all its martial splendor and frozen in the very act of drawing forth a sabre? And in passing by, how many actually gave thought to the ghosts of a fateful attack during those raw hours of May 26, 1637, when a destructive strike by colonial (and native) forces against the Pequots sleeping inside the wooden palisade there had taken place?

The dead from that violent raid apparently had not forgotten and were still disturbed by it, enough to finally raise the ire of contemporary citizens and unleash public rancor over an old memorial where the brutal ambush had occurred three and a half centuries earlier.

What, in fact, did happen during that crucial turning point of the 17th-century war between colonial and native forces? And what part in it did John Mason — eventual founder of Norwich (1659) — play in so devastating a drama during those furious years in our early history?

Born around 1600 in Ravensthorpe, Northampton Shire, England, and raised there, Mason appears to have been predestined for a soldier’s life. While married, he served in the English army under Sir Thomas Fairfax and later was promoted to captain after chasing and flushing out pirates — in particular, one “Dixie Bull” who had previously conducted raids along the coast of New England.

Mason journeyed to the English colonies of the New World around 1630, during what came to be known as the Great Puritan Migration. There, he would make a name for himself as a daring military maverick, and as a faith-based governmental leader.

Norwich’s town historian, Dale Plummer, traced his own family tree (on his mother’s side) and found Mason himself to be an ancestor. Plummer explained the mindset of the feverishly religious Puritan immigrants that eventually populated the fledgling colonies of the New World, and to which Mason belonged. He described them as a proud, devoted sect, harboring religious philosophies that had originated with the likes of French reformer John Calvin, and who were deeply invested in the belief that people were basically “depraved beings able to attain salvation in but a single way.”

“Puritan church members,” Plummer explained, “all had to give evidence that they had experienced ‘Divine Grace.’ You first had to acknowledge being a sinner and one who was now seeking salvation. That realization was essential.”

Plummer describes what amounts to a spiritual epiphany of sorts that one had to undergo — while recognizing the need for it — to become a full-time member of the church, and thus proving oneself ready to be among the ‘Elect.’

“Evidence had to be presented … and there would be an interrogation regarding your spiritual journey and how convincingly you could relate it to a body of church members who were already deemed ‘Visible Saints,’” Plummer explained. “You had to relate it to their satisfaction so they would recognize your spiritual journey as genuine.”

To fully understand the Puritan mindset, and how it would ultimately influence the way they wound up dealing with a tribal people born to a wilderness life that generated customs and beliefs so radically different from their own, it is necessary to grasp how utterly invested these Puritans were in their chosen faith.

“Puritans undertook intense labors to convey the need for a humbling experience with God that convinced the established Visible Saints that someone was credible enough to be accepted among them,” said Plummer. “It was a congregation of Puritans with ministers at its nucleus — all ‘attaining salvation by God’s Grace.’ Among those Visible Saints was the Congressional Minister Thomas Hooker, recognized as the founder of Connecticut.”

John Mason, as part of the Puritan Migration in the 1630s, was a recognized, accepted member of that Elect group and, therefore, deemed a Visible Saint himself. This was in a world where Puritans found themselves in a land populated by a tribal people devoted to an entirely different sense of spiritualism. The longtime native inhabitants celebrated the premise of Manitou: the belief in a life force existing in all of Nature’s creations — trees, animals, plants, the waters, the air itself … all these entities serving as a means of relating to spirits like Cautantowitt, Kiehtan, Mundu, Hobbamocko, Chepi.

There is irony in how those fleeing religious oppression in England would treat with disdain the spiritual beliefs of a people whose comforts of the soul differed from theirs. Spiritualism such as the frontier Indians entertained was viewed by Puritans as lacking in credibility — more heathen or pagan — and to be corrected and converted, as was done by English missionaries like the Rev. John Eliot, who would develop a more “tolerable” sort of tribal people: the Praying Indians.

The stage was thus preset for a clash of cultures where foreigners sought to change the mores and beliefs of tribal clans that had already established a spiritualism of their own for thousands of years.

Might it all have been different? What had begun as a mutually beneficial trading of resources, welcomed initially by both sides, would soon erupt in territorial differences, eventual economic disputes and overzealous leaders unable to sustain a peaceable rapport. And summoned ultimately to the fore of those disputes was a man born to the task of military resolution: Captain John Mason. His service in the army, and as a founder of noteworthy settlements like Windsor, and as a government official, would lead to his becoming one of the more prominent figures in the burgeoning English colonies of the northeast.

With the powerful Pequot tribal nation already in place as the dominant native force in the region — comfortably in control of the coastal shellfish beds from which the precious wampum resource was derived — they commanded the flow of the profitable European fur trade, thus dictating the economics and politics for everyone.

The Pequots were supported by their close-knit Mohegan kindred who dwelled inland where the bulk of furs were obtained in exchange for wampum. Dutch and English influence would change the essence of wampum — once a revered cultural commodity — into a currency.

Given their dominance over the lesser river tribes, and a growing rivalry with the formidable Narragansetts of nearby Rhode Island, coupled with an ever-increasing English resentment over Pequot power in the region, the lead tribe’s stranglehold on trade involving native wampum and furs and European metal goods was soon to be broken. It would touch off other differences, culminating in all-out war.

Kidnappings, fierce skirmishes and increased trading disputes would lead to killings on both sides. And stepping into the picture next was an overzealous English officer sent by the Massachusetts Bay Colony to settle the matter of “Indian hostilities” … one Colonel John Endicott.

Endicott’s pugnacious air and presence in the Connecticut Valley were not welcomed by colonial leaders, in particular Lt. Lion Gardiner, commander of Fort Saybrook — a land patch that had previously been purchased by the English from the local Nehantic tribe (with Pequot consent). Some of the Pequots were closely familiar with the colonists living there and were known to visit the fort.

All that was now past as Gardiner’s famed proclamation to Endicott turned out to be a grim forecast:

“You have come to raise a nest of wasps about our ears, and then you will flee away!”

That is precisely what the impulsive Endicott did by sacking a Pequot river settlement, which drew a harsh reprisal from the tribe, thus igniting the flames of war.

All cultural compatibility then ceased, and the colonists found themselves trying to fend off an enemy far more familiar with the terrain, and more at home with wilderness warfare.

The General Court in Hartford met on May 1, 1637, and formally declared war on the Pequots. Terminology referencing the powerful tribe reflected the now soured relations — a far different rhetoric than in more profitable and cooperative times.

“Darkened and debased by their wilderness environment … a barbarous and murderous lot” — while proclaiming — “Did we flee the tyranny of England only to come here and fall prey to the tomahawk!” And some expressed an adage used by tribal dissidents who had previously been wary of the increasing presence of Europeans: “Kill the whelp ere its teeth and claws become stronger!”

Between Endicott’s rampage (and swift return to Massachusetts, as Gardiner had forecast) and the Pequots’ retaliatory strike in the form of a siege of Fort Saybrook — ultimately broken up by English soldiers — followed a month later by a fierce attack against the nearby Connecticut colony of Wethersfield, the settlers were in a panic.

It is therefore no exaggeration that John Mason was looked upon as a looming savior of the fledgling New England Colonies. He was the military maverick who had trained under the renowned Prince of Orange and served in the Netherland Wars where he received battle promotions prior to his arrival in the New World.

Captain Mason was heralded by court members: “A right man for the task … Filled with martial bravery and vigor … A worthy arm of our Lord.”

Controversy accompanied Mason throughout his tenure as commander of Colonial forces in battling the Pequot nation, starting with his accepting of native allies against the region’s dominant tribe. Aid had been offered by a band of Mohegans led by a rebellious sachem, Uncas, one who had until recently held close ties with the Pequots. The recalcitrant young Mohegan had disputed the leadership of the Pequots’ Great Sachem, Sassacus, and believed the autonomy of his Mohegan clan to be in jeopardy.

Fearing they would find themselves subjugated by the dominant tribe — as had happened to the lesser regional clans — Uncas saw the rift between the English and Pequots as a means to an end. Aiding the English meant possibly breaking the power of the Pequots … thus securing autonomy for his people. Some of the river tribes sought the same ends and joined in with Uncas to assist Mason.

Mason, too, seized the opportunity, welcoming the additional 70 or so men to his own force of nearly 80. This was much to the consternation of his own officers who did not share in Mason’s apparent trust in Indian allies. But, despite Puritan suspicions, Mason’s military instincts gave him cause to recognize the value and efficiency of those born to the frontier in which the fighting would be taking place.

And, in accordance with how English enemies had been dealt with overseas, complete and utter devastation would be in order — a range of warfare even the most ferocious of tribes in the New World had never experienced or even witnessed.

That experience was imminent as Mason conferred with Uncas on the lay of the land, the habits of the Pequots, and even went so far as to boldly ignore a direct order to sail on to Fort Weinshauks (what is now Fort Hill in Groton), where Great Sachem Sassacus himself was based.

But trusting to Uncas’ knowledge of the terrain and the likely positioning of the Pequots, Mason deduced that a direct attack on Fort Weinshauks would be tactical folly, as it would expose his forces to ambush from the high ground. Thus, the alternative plan: trusting his Mohegan ally to guide them into the country of the Pequots’ strongest rivals, the Narragansetts of Rhode Island.

There, Great Sachem Miantonomo agreed to a couple hundred or so of his own warriors to accompany Mason’s and Uncas’ forces through Narragansett territory and quietly, stealthily into Pequot lands where another prominent fortification, Missituck (Mystic) would serve as the primary target.

Throughout this march, Mason, ever the consummate colonial commander, remained fully invested in Puritan philosophy: “When a people has grown to such a height of blood and sin against God and men, the Scriptures declare that women and children must perish with their parents.”

This was in response to Narragansett concerns of women and children being present in the sleeping Pequot fort, along with the many warriors inside, and a request that noncombatants be spared. Mason, however, recalled being advised by the Rev. Thomas Hooker, “Not to do this work of the Lord’s slackly.”

So, when Mason launched the deadly ambush on the sleeping fort he made sure to avoid direct confrontation against overwhelming numbers by using the time-tested tactic of igniting a fortified village into flames, resulting in the fiery death of several hundred of the enemy, proving as effective as in the past.

Narragansetts stationed outside the burning palisade, and commissioned to slay those who tried to escape, beheld the effects of colonial “shock and awe.”

It was the turning point in the Pequot War and would lead to the breaking of the powerful tribe militarily, economically, and socially. But it did not close that chapter of Indian and Colonial history. More was to follow.

(NEXT IN THE SERIES:The English retreat as warriors from Fort Weinshauks, three miles away, arrive and attack Mason’s withdrawing forces.)

New London’s Nicholas Checker is an author and playwright.