Decision at Fletcher's Mill

by David Caringer

  Willoughby and his escort somehow made it back through the rebel patrols to regain their horses and return to his command in great haste. He began bellowing orders as soon as they entered the encampment. He had Captain Jones summon all the officers for a quick council so that he could effectively issue his instructions. This was not a council of war in the traditional sense. Major Willoughby was not seeking the advice or opinions of others. He formulated his entire plan of attack on his way back out of the rebel perimeter. He expected his orders to be obeyed without hesitation or question. Success depended on surprise and overwhelming force in this situation.

  Major Willoughby would bring the infantry and artillery forward behind a screen of light skirmishers and cavalry. This was a classic textbook approach to an attack on a fixed fortified position of this sort. He knew this was the only tactic that would work. He was pleased to learn that the disabled gun carriage was effectively repaired by replacing both wheels with those from one of the caissons. Glancing at the gun actually reassured him further. He would have his dragoons each carry an extra powder charge and ball in bags tied to their saddles as they moved forward. The surviving caisson could be double loaded as well for this short distance. He would attempt to place the guns at the high spot he occupied a short while ago.

  The attack would wait until all of Willoughby’s units were on line and ready. It would commence with an artillery bombardment of the mill and the solid Fletcher house nearby. Part of his infantry would occupy the village quickly while a small cavalry contingent demonstrated to the front. The majority of the cavalry would swing to the left and attack the fortifications from the woods on that flank. When he heard that attack start, he would push forward in a concentrated rush through the village and up to the mill itself. He would consolidate his forces on this objective and secure it with overwhelming force.

  Willoughby didn’t know if the rebel militia would stand and fight a defensive battle. His instinct told him that this kind of warfare didn’t suit them. He would not give them time to sort their opinions out on the subject. Major Willoughby laid out his instructions to his subordinates within minutes. There were no questions. All these officers knew what was expected of them and knew not to question their commander from the tone in his voice and the look on his face. The entire force was in motion less than an hour later. Willoughby desired silence to maintain the element of surprise, but his instinctive need for speed in closing on this objective was very powerful. The wind was blowing toward them from the direction of Fletcher’s Mill anyway. This effectively muted the noise of their approach.

  The large infantry screen he sent ahead was carrying unloaded muskets. They were strictly forbidden from loading until they were specifically ordered to do so, or the artillery opened fire. They were to advance quietly with the bayonet and overwhelm the rebel patrols in the woods north of the village in silence if possible. Willoughby doubted this would happen. Surely the rebel patrols would fire when confronted by his men. As it turned out, few shots were fired while many vicious horrific struggles for life and death played out in the shadows and undergrowth. The vastly superior number of British troops made it impossible for the light rebel patrols to stop them. Many men died quietly in this violent portion of the battle.

  Major Willoughby and the artillery lieutenant had the guns in place quickly and without compromise. The extra ammunition was stacked on and under tarpaulins within minutes. The light infantry moved into the village carefully before the first artillery round was fired. He waited until two troops of dragoons moved to his front and slightly to the right while remaining concealed in the trees. The rest of the cavalry began their movement forward and to the left around the village.

  Willoughby knew the time had come. Amazingly, not one sign of recognition or alarm came from the rebel fortifications on the other side of the village. He was very pleased that they somehow managed to get this far undetected, but didn’t pause to think about it. The guns were loaded and aimed. The gun sergeants were standing to the side of their gun carriages. Both held aloft long linstocks with glowing slow matches fastened to them ready to be dropped onto the touchholes. Willoughby took a deep breath and nodded curtly to the lieutenant. The man spun immediately and shouted. “Number one, FIRE! Number two, FIRE!”

  The sound was earsplitting in the quiet darkness of the overhanging trees as the guns fired and were thrown back in recoil. Willoughby had no time to watch as the crews jumped to sponge out and reload before dragging the heavy weapons back into firing position. He willed the smoke to clear and strained to see the impact of both rounds on the outside of the mill building at the upper floor. The shots were surprisingly accurate. The range was relatively short, and the guns had been loaded and aimed carefully.

  The demonstrating dragoons moved out of the tree line to begin a feint charge toward the mill across the relatively open ground to the right of the village. The guns were reloaded and fired again. He didn’t notice where the shots went this time, as he saw some of the cavalry horses stumble or fall, apparently tripped by unseen objects in the underbrush. He saw a huge volley of smoke plumes erupt all along the nearest rebel trenches. Many of the saddles in the two troops were suddenly empty. Willoughby remembered the effect of the incredibly accurate rifles from his encounter with them on the road from Fish Dam.

  There was scattered musket fire now in and around the village. Willoughby saw two men exit the mill building from the front door and run toward the house. One of the cannons had shifted fire toward the house after the second round was fired. The artillery lieutenant was applying regular fire on both buildings now as fast as his guns could reload. Willoughby knew he must wait here long enough for the main cavalry contingent to get into position on the rebel flank before he led his infantry into the main assault. He ordered his men to prepare to advance but continued to wait. A sudden plume of dark gray smoke appeared above the Fletcher house followed immediately by tongues of flame. One of the artillery rounds must have upset a light inside the upper floor of the house.

  Seconds later, Willoughby heard the distant report of many dragoon carbines coming from the place where he ordered Captain Jones to commence the main cavalry attack. Near the house, he saw small figures of men struggling to get themselves and others out of the burning building. He raised his sword and the drummers started their steady roll. Major Willoughby dropped the sword to the horizontal and shouted, “Advance!” Kicking the horse into motion, he foolishly allowed his stress to propel him far ahead of the surging infantry that followed him. Realizing his mistake before it was too late, he reined in and allowed the lines of infantry to pass around him. They were moving at the quick step. The men in this main assault were loaded, ready to halt and fire on command. The advance was urgent.

  More volleys of rifle smoke appeared along the rebel trenches. Men began to fall in the British lines. The sergeants kept the gaps filled by closing the lines as more men fell. The range was too great for the muskets to answer. They had to close the distance quickly. Willoughby ordered the charge in that moment. It was like releasing a pent-up thoroughbred. The lines surged forward while somehow maintaining their dress. He knew that many years of disciplined training was all that made this possible. A second later, he heard the gratifying roar of the dragoon charge to his front left on the rebel right flank. Many of his men fell, but the rest made it into the nearest rebel trenches now.

  Major Willoughby was mildly surprised when he saw that the rebels had apparently begun to withdraw. He realized that he was right about them. They were not prepared to maintain a fixed defense in the face of a well-organized assault by a superior force. This simply wasn’t their way of fighting. These guerilla partisans would clearly prefer to escape and fight another day. He noticed that people were dragging what appeared to be stretchers out of the house and up past the mill into the hills on the other side of the creek. He wondered vaguely if one of these might be the Reverend Fletcher.

  CHAPTER 44

  Lieutenant Billy
Morgan and John Red left the mill by the lower front door. They found themselves moving into a world of exploding chaos. Billy wasn’t sure what to do at first. He knew he needed to reach his men in the forward trench on the other side of the road. He saw British cavalry advancing across the open area next to the village, and initially thought the greatest threat must be coming from there. Another cannon ball slammed into the front of the mill and they were both thrown to the ground. He heard another round strike the front of the Fletcher house in the near distance to his right. Bits of stone and debris were cascading on them as he and Red realized they needed to get to the house and get the wounded men out.

  A huge volley of rifle fire erupted from the trench to their front as they pulled themselves up from the ground and started toward the house. Billy glanced toward the advancing dragoons in time to notice several British saddles were now empty. The sight reminded him of that awful day at Cowpens. This brought his friend Silas to mind. He felt a surge of panic as he heard another ball strike the house. Now he saw smoke at the roof of the house followed instantly by licking flame. A lamp or something must have been knocked over by one of those British cannon rounds. He and Red were moving toward the house as if running in a nightmare. They didn’t appear to be getting any closer as time seemed to slow perceptibly.

  Billy heard a roar of musketry coming from the southeast side of the village now. He also heard the unmistakable sound of rolling drums from the woods beyond the village to the north. He and Red saw people struggling out of the house from the back doors carrying wounded men away from the building. They neared quickly now. Billy saw that Dr. Bolt, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, Reverend Fletcher, Mona, and a few of the village men were carrying the wounded on anything that would suffice as a stretcher. He saw most of the remaining wounded survivors from Cowpens. He even saw an injured dragoon sergeant carried out on a broken door. He didn’t see Silas though. Billy screamed at John Red to help these people move back to the mill or to the woods around the mill pond. He then rushed into the house. The building was almost totally ablaze, and it continued to be struck by cannon rounds.

  Billy bent double and pushed his way through the kitchen to the parlor where he last saw his friend the night before. Silas wasn’t there. Billy realized that he hadn’t seen any of the wounded men here during dinner earlier today. He began to shout. The only response was the roar of flame and the crashing of timbers as the house began to collapse. He was nearly blind in the smoke and his own tears. There was no way Silas could be alive in this inferno. He must leave now or die right here for no good purpose. A battle was raging outside. He was still needed. His men needed him. Elizabeth needed him. He had to get out now. With those thoughts overcoming his grief and terror, he surged out through the smoke toward some faintly visible daylight at the back of the house.

  Billy cleared the doorway into the small wash-yard at the back of the house just as the center of the building collapsed into itself with a horrific crash. To his gasping smoke-blinded amazement, he nearly tripped over the prostrate form of his best friend, Silas Whitaker. Billy fell at his friend’s side in a coughing spasm. He felt Silas trying to slap him on the back and looked up to see his friend blinking in the swirling smoke. Billy stifled an absurd laugh as he realized this was the second time this month he had found Silas still alive on a smoking battlefield while thinking him dead.

  Billy struggled to his feet. He knew that his friend’s injuries wouldn’t allow him to be carried over the shoulder. His own thigh wound was throbbing fiercely. He looked around and found a partially scorched plank near the back of the heap of ruins. He quickly pulled Silas onto the plank and started dragging him away from the building. Billy noticed that the gunfire had increased and was drawing nearer from two directions. The cannons both shifted fire back to the mill itself. A sudden realization again stunned him. Elizabeth was in the mill with Ezekiel and the others.

  Elizabeth and the others were huddled in the makeshift prison of Captain Crispin wondering what to do next. The mill was a very sturdy building. Several militiamen were firing fiercely from the upper floors and roof under the command of Captain Robertson. The noise of gunfire, crashing glass, and collapsing stonework was horrendous. They didn’t hear the sound of the mill door opening and slamming shut. Seconds later, they looked up to see the strange form of a heavily armed though physically diminutive Major Throckmorton framed in the storeroom doorway. Throckmorton was carrying a musket in his left hand and a pistol in his right. Three more pistols were shoved into his waistband. There was a crazed look in his eyes which was all too familiar to Reginald Crispin.

  The major pushed into the room, and was met by a willing Private Plunket who was glad to see an officer show up in the middle of current events. Crispin and Ezekiel were still seated on the crates in the middle of the room. Elizabeth was standing next to Ezekiel with her hand to her mouth in terror. Throckmorton gave curt orders to Plunket about securing the prisoner and paused as the man turned to face Crispin. The major then shocked the other three in the room as he used his pistol butt on the back of Plunket’s head to render him unconscious. Plunkett fell at the feet of Captain Crispin, who was now standing.

  Throckmorton ignored the captain and turned his now fully cocked pistol on Elizabeth and Ezekiel. More cannon rounds struck the outside of the building and dust sifted through the ceiling above them to fill the air in the room. The major stood very still and said, “Miss Fletcher, it’s my understanding that a great deal of gold and silver is stored somewhere in the hillside at the back of this mill house. I….” He looked sideways at Crispin. “We … intend to relieve you and your family of it.”

  Elizabeth was confused as she replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Major. My grandfather is quite wealthy, but I know of no gold or silver kept here.”

  Throckmorton turned to Ezekiel and said, “Old man, I believe I understand you to be a longtime family ‘friend’ of the Fletchers and the miller who oversees this facility. You must know what we are interested in. I will give you one minute to show me where it is or I will shoot you.” Elizabeth gasped and stepped in front of Ezekiel. Throckmorton pushed her roughly out of the way and again addressed Ezekiel. “Before I shoot you, I will shoot Miss Fletcher. You must decide to help us or not now. You only have seconds left.”

  Major Throckmorton had turned his back on his erstwhile ally Crispin. The emotion and resolve exploding through Reginald Crispin’s mind in this instant could only be empowered by God and the feeling of complete freedom from the guilt of his miserable past. He reached down and snatched up Plunket’s rifle. Aiming it at Throckmorton’s back, he yelled, “You will do nothing of the kind, sir!” Throckmorton whirled around to face him.

  Crispin drew the hammer on the rifle to full cock. In that instant, he noticed to his horror that the weapon was not primed. The major must have seen the look in his eyes. Before another word could be uttered, he raised the pistol and shot the captain in the chest. Crispin’s spirit was with Jesus before his body hit the floor. Throckmorton turned back around while dropping the pistol and cocking the musket. Elizabeth and Ezekiel were staring in stunned shock. Ezekiel finally broke the silence. “I’ll show you where to find what you want, Major. I don’t care what you do to me, but please don’t harm Miss Elizabeth.”

  The massed gunfire was growing closer. Billy saw Captain Watson start to withdraw the militiamen from the trenches to the hills above the mill. He noted that Sergeant Strickland was pulling some of his men back toward the higher ground as well. John Red was nowhere to be seen. Billy sensed that the man had either helped with the wounded as ordered or joined in the fighting near the house. He didn’t know where Sergeant Duncan was with the rest of his men. Billy dragged Silas across the grass toward the trees as fast as he could until he saw Ira coming to help him with one of the villagers. Ira told the other man to take Silas on up the hill as Billy stopped breathless in front of him. They both ducked very low while Billy shouted that Elizabeth and Ezekiel wer
e still inside the mill. Ira became frantic as two more cannonballs crashed into the mill and continued rather than bouncing off. The outside wall had been breached on the upper floor. They both began to run toward an upper side entry.

  Ezekiel slowly led Elizabeth and Major Throckmorton to the back of the lower milling station and opened the door that led to the huge storage cavern behind the building. Throckmorton took down a burning lantern hanging from a hook near the mill wheel while keeping the musket aimed at Ezekiel. Setting the lantern on the floor, he backed away and told Elizabeth to pick it up. When she did so, he transferred the musket to his left hand and drew another of the pistols from his belt. Flicking open the priming pan on the musket with his thumb, he turned the weapon over and emptied the primer onto the floor. He threw the musket behind a stack of flour bags near the front wall and moved back to his two captives. He hadn’t taken his eyes off either of them. He now used his left hand to fully cock the pistol in his right and pulled another of the pistols from his waistband.

  Throckmorton abruptly ordered Ezekiel and Elizabeth into the cavern. He was right behind them as they went through the doorway. They couldn’t help noticing that a large number of powder barrels were stacked in the center of the cavern alongside stacks of British muskets and other clearly military items. Throckmorton saw that someone had broken open one of the powder casks at the bottom of the stack and piled loose black powder all around it. There were three trails of powder leading away from this pile toward the door. Someone had prepared a way to fire one or all of these obvious fuses and explode the powder to blow up the mill if the British forced entry to this place. He suspected this was the work of one or both of the two militia captains he ate dinner with earlier. He had to physically overcome a wave of loathing for the man who removed him from his horse earlier in front of the house.