Captain Eggleston did not hesitate. He gave a sharp order, sabers were drawn and the troop went into action. At Harry’s command, the rest of the Legion did the same. The slaughter of the Loyalists was, in Harry’s own words, even after the lapse of many years between the incident and the writing of his Memoirs, “sickening.” The Legion killed about ninety of the Loyalists, and the South Carolina militia shot down those who fled in sudden panic. “Colonel” Pyle was gravely wounded, and so were the vast majority of his followers who survived the initial assault. Only a handful managed to escape.
Eighteenth-century light corps traveled without surgeons, and there was no way of tending the Loyalist wounded. The Continentals had no liking for men they regarded as traitors, but were sufficiently professional to feel a sense of responsibility for the injured. Pickens’ men did not agree, however, too many of them having seen their own families butchered by Loyalists. So the Loyalist wounded were left where they had fallen, and the most Harry could do for them was to send several men to farmhouses in the vicinity for aid.
The corps had suffered virtually no casualties worthy of the name in the brief, bitter encounter. A few men were scarred by powder burns, but otherwise the corps was intact. But several hours had elapsed since the two farmers had first appeared on the road with word of a Loyalist column in the vicinity, and it was late in the day by the time the Legion and militia finally arrived at its goal, the British bivouac.
Tarleton had gone, and his camp looked as though it had been abandoned in great haste. Perhaps his pickets had heard the sounds of rifle fire, or it may have been that some of the Loyalist survivors had found their way to his headquarters and given the alarm. Either way, he now knew that an American force was in the vicinity, searching for him.
Harry and Pickens had lost their greatest advantage, the element of surprise. Henceforth he would be more difficult to contain, infinitely harder to beat.
The Americans camped beside the main road leading to the town of Hillsboro, and less than an hour later were joined by three hundred Virginia militiamen, volunteer rifle sharpshooters who had heard that Cornwallis was in the vicinity and were searching for General Greene. When they learned the mission on which Harry and Pickens were engaged, they enthusiastically voted to join the party.
They were made welcome, and Harry sent out scouts to find Tarleton and pinpoint his position in the hills. The corps had greater numerical strength than the enemy now, a situation that Americans rarely enjoyed, and both Harry and Pickens were sure they would win a decisive victory the following day.
Tarleton’s own scouts had informed him that the enemy had received reinforcements, and he had no intention of being overwhelmed. In the early hours of the morning he quietly evacuated his bivouac, and by the time Harry learned of his flight, roused the corps and started a pre-dawn march, the Redcoats had vanished.
For the next few days the two Legions played cat-and-mouse, the Americans seeking, the British eluding, a reversal of a situation that had been virtually universal since the beginning of the war. A clash between the two cavalry leaders seemed inevitable, but their generals had other ideas. Greene had recrossed the Dan with his main body, which was being reinforced each day with new militia units from Virginia and the Carolinas, so the basic situation was altered.
Cornwallis needed Tarleton’s Legion to act as his vanguard, and Greene reactivated his light corps under Colonel Otho Williams to act as a screen between him and the Redcoats. And Lee’s Legion was better equipped than any other unit to give life to the light corps. The two cavalry leaders reluctantly accepted their new assignments and rode off in opposite directions, their showdown battle postponed until another day.
The basic situation was fluid as each side jockeyed for an advantageous position. For the immediate moment, Cornwallis held a slight edge. His corps was at full strength, and he held a number of forts in South Carolina and Georgia that kept those states more or less under his control. In North Carolina genuine Loyalists and opportunists willing to swing either way with the tide of victory were encouraged by his proximity, and he was anxious to win them permanently into his camp before a military accident or an American victory caused them to change their minds.
Greene, on the other hand, was forced to behave cautiously. He was still receiving reinforcements, most of them militia, and their records were spotty. Some were veterans who had given an excellent account of themselves in the frontier Battle of Kings Mountain the previous October 1780, and had virtually destroyed a strong British force that had made the mistake of fighting a formal, European-style battle in the American wilderness better suited to guerrilla operations. Others were eager but raw recruits, and Greene had watched such troops buckle too often in the past. So, although preparing for definitive action, he continued to delay as long as possible in order to give green men the benefit of field experience before sending them into combat.
Under these conditions Cornwallis decided to take the initiative again, and on March 6 sent a strong vanguard against the American screening force. Colonel Williams’ men were almost totally unprepared for the assault, so Lee’s Legion was thrown into the battle against a Redcoat battalion of light infantry aided by several auxiliary units. Harry’s men performed with quiet efficiency, and held the enemy at bay while Williams retired across a small river to regroup his forces. After a fight of about an hour, Williams sent word that all of his units had made the crossing, and Harry retired, too.
He and Williams made a quick review of their situation, and decided they were in an untenable position. They knew they were outnumbered, and the Redcoats could cross the little river at too many places where the water was shallow. Williams decided to continue his retreat, and the Legion once again was given the unenviable task of delaying the enemy. It was assisted by a battalion of mountain men, many of them Kings Mountain veterans, and together they managed to hold off the Redcoats.
After two more hours of brisk fighting, however, the British light infantry managed to gain a foothold on the American bank of the river. Almost immediately Tarleton’s dragoons appeared, riding in formation down to the water’s edge, ready to lead a decisive sweep.
Here was the opportunity for direct combat that Harry and the British cavalry leader had sought. Harry sent his infantry to the rear, and put his horsemen in battle formation to repel Tarleton’s charge. But, before the British could move, a courier arrived with orders from General Greene, who directed that a major clash be avoided. Lee’s Legion, humiliated and deeply frustrated, was compelled to withdraw.
According to several accounts that may be no more than romantic legends, Harry and Tarleton stood in their stirrups and saluted each other with their sabers before the Americans drew off. At any rate, it appeared that the fates were conspiring to prevent the confrontation both men sought.
On March 14 the light corps reported to General Greene at his new headquarters, a spot in the North Carolina hills known as Guilford Courthouse because a red brick building used by the judges of the circuit courts in more peaceful times was located there. The general called a meeting of his senior subordinates and told them he was as ready to fight as he would be later. He had received a letter from Dan Morgan telling him that the only way he could beat Cornwallis would be in battle, and he agreed.
His greatest problem, he told the colonels, was his green militia. Once again taking Morgan’s advice, he planned to put the recruits well forward, in the center of his lines, with tough veterans behind them, ready to shoot down any who fled from the field in panic. The solution was far from ideal, but Americans had suffered too many unpleasant experiences in battle to place much reliance on untried militia.
On the morning of March 15 Lee’s Legion was given its usual difficult assignment of riding south to act as a screen and, this time, to draw Cornwallis into a major engagement. Harry was supported by the dragoons of Lieutenant Colonel William Washington, an exceptionally energetic, able officer whose men were seasoned horsemen. Although senior
to Harry in the date of his commission, Washington was placed under the command of the Chief of Cavalry.
Recruits held the van of the infantry positions, with experienced Virginians giving them backing, and tough Continentals, Marylanders, and Virginians held the right. Greene stationed them at the crest of the hill that dominated the area, and indicated that this sector would be his anchor. Motley militia units were placed on the left, the weakest portion of the line, and Harry Lee was ordered to fall back and give them support after accomplishing his initial mission.
Harry pushed forward cautiously, and about an hour before dawn heard the approach of enemy cavalry. His scouts told him that Cornwallis’ entire column of more than three thousand men was on the move, and in a sense the Legion’s mission was ended. General Greene was destined to have his battle.
Couriers were dispatched to the rear with the news, a ride of about five miles, and Harry turned to wait for the foe. Now it was his task to slow the Redcoat advance in order to give Nathanael Greene enough time to finish building breastworks and make ready for the battle.
The Legion was divided into three separate units, the bulk of the cavalry under Major Rudolph, with separate troops commanded by Captain Eggleston and Captain Joseph Armstrong strung out in a thin line before them. There were about two hundred and fifty men under Harry’s overall command.
The advance unit of the British vanguard was a battalion of light infantry, supported by Tarleton’s Legion. Word was passed back through the Redcoat lines that Americans in green tunics and plumed helmets had been sighted in battle formation, and Tarleton refused to be denied the pleasure of fighting the duel he had so long awaited. He pushed forward, his three hundred and eighty horsemen in a double battle line.
Harry was outnumbered, and chose to resort to trickery. The main body under Rudolph pretended to hesitate, then turned and galloped off in simulated panic. Eggleston’s troop then did the same. Armstrong was the bait being used to tempt the enemy, and he played his role with courage, retiring slowly, his men walking their horses sedately.
Tarleton was unable to resist the opportunity that seemed to present itself. His dragoons gathered speed, and thundered toward Armstrong’s troopers, who coolly continued to pull back at a crawl. An instant or two before the British came within pistol range of the troop, Harry called an order, and his main body wheeled, with Eggleston making a sweeping turn on the flank. Armstrong waited until his comrades were almost even with him, then he also made a sweep toward the other flank, and the entire Legion galloped toward the enemy at breakneck speed.
Tarleton was caught completely by surprise, and the two troops leading his charge were decimated, riders and horses falling as the Americans cut and slashed viciously. It was impossible to estimate the number of Redcoat casualties, and the American drive was so strong that it carried deeper into the British lines before slowing.
Even the best disciplined of horsemen were unable to resist the force of their foe’s momentum, and one troop of Tarleton’s Legion scattered. Their commander demonstrated his versatility and courage by rallying his other troops and leading them in an orderly retreat.
Harry immediately swung his men in a semi-circular, scythe-like movement in an attempt to cut off Tarleton from the British units behind him. The two Legions raced madly, one seeking protection, the other trying to destroy it, and Tarleton was able to reach the sanctuary of the light infantry lines with the loss of only a few more men.
The British foot soldiers opened a brisk fire with their muskets, and Harry’s horse was either shot from beneath him or bolted. In the excitement of the moment, he never learned which had happened. In any event, he had sufficient presence of mind to leap to the ground, throwing himself clear, and although he was the target of a number of enemy marksmen, managed to leap into the empty saddle of a slain British officer’s mount.
Urging his cavalry forward again, he called up the Legion infantry and a battalion of North Carolina infantry that had been following close behind. The foot soldiers moved into the center of his line, and he split his cavalry into two divisions, each covering a flank. Tarleton, maneuvering frantically, arranged his men in roughly the same formation, and the two forces engaged in a furious slugging match.
After a few minutes of intensive fire, American marksmanship proved superior, and the British withdrew slowly from the field. Thanks to Tarleton’s presence everywhere in their ranks, they maintained good order.
Harry had to make a rapid decision. He was tempted to follow the enemy in close pursuit, but knew that the farther he went, the closer he was drawing to Cornwallis’ main body and the more distance he was putting between himself and Greene. Eventually he would come within range of the Redcoat heavy infantry and artillery, and would be subjecting his men to risks greater than the situation warranted. In an admirable display of level-headed judgment, he broke off the engagement and returned to Greene’s lines far to his rear, his infantry marching first, his cavalry providing cover behind them.
At last he and Tarleton had met — under conditions ideal for both forces — and Lee’s Legion had won an emphatic victory. It was the first time Tarleton had suffered a clear-cut defeat in all the years he had been fighting in North America, and Harry’s men sang Yankee Doodle in triumph as they marched.
But the Battle of Guilford Courthouse was still in its opening phase. It was only eight o’clock in the morning, and an hour later the two main bodies collided, Cornwallis sending his heavy British and Hessian infantry forward in solid waves after trying to soften the Americans with a fifteen-minute artillery barrage, an attempt that failed because of his gunners’ poor marksmanship. To the surprise of the Redcoats, the entire American line held firm. Tarleton, who had been sent to the rear to act as a reserve, asked for the privilege of redeeming himself, but the situation did not call for the utilization of cavalry, and he was to brood in sheepish despair.
The entire American line remained in place behind its breastworks, and the two armies pounded at each other, each taking a heavy toll. Occasionally Cornwallis paused briefly to regroup his attackers, but continued to maintain a heavy pressure. Greene remained unwavering in his defense, and no Americans had better demonstrated their professional skill and stamina than the men who served under him that day.
Then, finally, the inevitable happened, and several companies of militia on the American left wavered, buckled, and fled. Harry Lee made a desperate attempt to rally them, even using his cavalry in an effort to force them back into the line, but his efforts were unavailing. A battalion of Welsh Fusiliers and another of Hessians poured through the gap.
It was up to the cavalry now to stem the enemy tide before the entire flank was turned, and with the infantry of Lee’s Legion still in position, Harry’s horsemen and those of William Washington’s battalion charged straight into the ranks of the foot soldiers. Again and again they cut through to the rear, turned and fought their way back to their own lines, and after almost three hours of a struggle without a respite, managed to close the hole.
By that time, however, the basic situation had changed. The other action had moved farther to the right, and the Legion, together with several seasoned companies of Virginia militia, was holding the left alone. Elsewhere American men-at-arms were accomplishing wonders. The Continentals on the right flank of Greene’s line pushed back several severe attacks and then themselves assumed the offensive. Colonel Washington’s dragoons were sent to help them, and the combined force made a forward thrust that resulted in hand-to-hand combat with the cream of Cornwallis’ corps.
His lordship was in danger of losing the field, and in a gesture that later subjected him to severe criticism in England, took the only course open to him and ordered his artillery to fire into the mass of struggling men. The two forces separated, but Cornwallis achieved no advantage, for Greene’s men continued to drive forward. The American center was more than holding its own, too, and the prospects of victory were improving.
On the left, howe
ver, Lee’s Legion and the Virginia companies, who were ultimately joined by a battalion of North Carolina militia, were fighting for their lives against almost incredible odds. This was still the weakest American sector, and Cornwallis sent two of his best regiments, one of elite Grenadier Guards, the other of experienced Hessians, against that portion of the line.
Between mid-afternoon and sundown that day, Harry Lee fought what many military students have believed to be his finest battle. Outnumbered by approximately four to one and completely cut off from the rest of General Greene’s army, he waged what was tantamount to a separate action. First, forced to retire, he retreated into pine woods and there fought Indian-style, with his men concealing themselves behind trees and brush, then firing at close range when the enemy rushed into the forest.
After inflicting severe losses on the enemy while himself suffering only five casualties, a record almost too good to be true, Harry launched a vicious counterassault and sent the enemy into retreat. He was achieving something of a miracle, but he and his men were too busy to realize it at the time.
It cannot be emphasized too strongly that Harry Lee and Nathanael Greene were unable to communicate with each other during this last part of the Guilford Courthouse battle. Their respective forces had moved far apart, and each was still locked in combat with strong British forces that separated them.
In the years following the battle, Harry’s personal foes charged that had he notified Greene of his success, the American army could have won a victory so smashing that Cornwallis would have been forced to surrender, ending the war in the southern states. This stand is groundless.
Greene might have been able to follow up on his advantage had he been able to call on several regiments of reserves, but he had already committed every man in his army to battle. There were literally no fresh troops available. Also, even had he driven the enemy from the field, Cornwallis was far from beaten. He still held a number of strong forts in occupied South Carolina and Georgia, and in the months that followed was able to summon his strategic reserves from Charleston and other towns where he maintained large personnel pools.
Light-Horse Harry: A Biography of Washington’s Great Cavalryman, General Henry Lee (Heroes and Villains from American History) Page 13
