The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [305]
“General O’Hara, if we do not engage the rebels, we have no purpose in being here. General Clinton believes that by simply maintaining our outposts in South Carolina, we have claimed a victory, that the rebellion in that colony has ended. I would suggest that Colonel Tarleton has experienced otherwise. It is entirely within my authority to withdraw our forces to those outposts and simply remain there. We might as well sail for England. The decision must be made. If we remain immobile, we will face certain ruin. If we advance, and pursue the rebel army, we face infinite danger. General Clinton has his view. Mine is somewhat different.” He paused, shook his head. “I admit to being puzzled, gentlemen. Why do the rebels retreat? Morgan won a significant victory, and yet, instead of becoming emboldened by his success, he chooses to withdraw.”
Leslie said, “Morgan cannot assume we will make another such mistake.”
He knew it was a veiled reference to Tarleton, would not allow Leslie the opening.
“Whether or not it was our mistake or their good fortune is not my concern. By their retreat, the rebels have chosen the path of this war. If we are to claim victory, we must engage them. To engage them we must catch them. Once we have shed our baggage, I intend to pursue General Greene to the ends of the earth!”
IT WAS ALREADY A MASSIVE BONFIRE, AND CORNWALLIS STEPPED THROUGH the gloomy throng of soldiers, carried a fat heavy trunk. They backed away, and he turned, saw them all watching him. He turned to the fire, the flames growing higher, far taller than he was. He felt the heat on his face, the weight of the trunk in his arms. There was a voice, “Sir! May I assist you?”
He did not respond, stepped close to the fire, squinting against the heat, and with one heavy grunt, launched his trunk into the blaze. He looked at them again, saw officers coming forward, more baggage, the men following his example. Before the night was over, the fire was fueled by the excess baggage of the entire command, excess grain, rolls of cloth, wool and cotton, and all but a handful of wagons. By morning, the shock had settled on every man along the march, that behind the long column, no wagons followed, nothing to slow them down, to keep them from pushing their pursuit of the enemy.
FEBRUARY 1781
They continued northward, led by the word from Tarleton’s scouts, who pushed out ahead of the column, probing the roads for the direction of the enemy. They captured the usual rebel stragglers, who brought news Cornwallis had not expected. Greene himself had apparently left the main body of his army, had ridden across country to join Morgan’s retreat. It was curious news to his officers, but Cornwallis understood. Greene appreciated the gravity of Morgan’s position. If Cornwallis himself was in pursuit, Greene would take charge of the men being pursued.
At each river crossing Cornwallis was forced to halt the army in a maddening routine, stopping the march while scouts sought out a shallow crossing. Every few days the rains would come, and the men had no choice but to huddle in soaking misery as they waited for the clouds to clear, and then for the river levels to drop. It was more frustrating because Greene was not so disadvantaged, and Cornwallis was beginning to appreciate the man’s tactic. Along many of the roads, he had seen the tracks of the rebels punctuated by narrow ruts in the mud. He assumed it was cannon. But soon the scouts brought him the word: The rebels were actually transporting their own boats, rolled along on makeshift axles. To add to the rebel advantage, Greene had sent men ahead to secure more boats, small fleets of craft that ferried their men safely and quickly across each river. Cornwallis had no such luxury,