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By Root 1450 0

coming from the left, from the men who were still holding their position. He scanned the officers on the right, too far away to see faces, thought of the commanders, Stevens and Lawson, men he barely knew, men he never expected to hold their ground against the full might of a British advance. The smoke began to drift away, and more of the Virginians emerged from the right, some pulling the wounded back with them. The quiet spread all down through the trees, the left now starting to give way as well. The retreat was uneven, the right already falling back behind the flank of the continentals. On the left, the Virginians were just now emerging from the trees, just beginning their climb. As the musket fire in the woods grew quiet, Greene was surprised to hear another hard fight, far out to the left, well beyond the woods, thought, Lee! He is still engaged on the flank! He scanned the continentals on both sides of him, thought, There is nothing we can do to assist him. Lee is too far forward. They must have assaulted him directly. He saw horsemen now, Washington’s cavalry, following the retreat of the Virginians, protecting their withdrawal on the right. I cannot send them to Lee. We must still protect the right flank. He felt suddenly helpless, the great strength of his army beside him, no way to send any help to Lee’s fight. Couriers were close behind him, and he pointed that way, said, “Send a message . . . Colonel Lee cannot allow himself to be cut off! If the enemy continues to advance, we will require his horsemen on our left flank! Unless a withdrawal will place him in jeopardy, he must retreat to our main position, and assume the flank! Go!”

The courier was quickly gone, and Greene stared down at the trees, the last wave of Virginians now coming up from the left, many turning to fight the enemy still hidden by the woods. Yes, by God! You have done your job!

He could see movement along the timberline to the right, bits of red, felt his heart jump. Very well! We shall see what you have left!

The British emerged in a ragged wave, and a cheer went up around him, and he thought, A salute to the Virginians, or perhaps . . . their enemy. Greene rode down to the left, out in front of the Marylanders, who could finally see the British troops. He turned toward them, raised his hat, and more cheers went up, the men seeing him, all of them knowing their part of this fight would now begin.

He faced the enemy again, could see British officers strengthening their line, evening the formation. He saw one man, clearly in command, a small staff following the man as he rode behind his troops. I should like to know you, sir. What do you see at this very moment? You have been battered and bloodied by men you must certainly have believed could not fight. Now, you must face the finest soldiers in America! Are you even aware of that? Let us see what you will do!

The British line began to move, but they were compact, not spread across the field, their officers pulling them tighter, a heavy fist, moving up the rise, shifting toward the left half of the continental line. Greene jerked the horse, moved farther that way, saw Otho Williams, sitting tall in the saddle, watching the advance draw up directly toward him. Greene moved close, said, “It will be your fight, Colonel! It seems Cornwallis has chosen to make his assault on Maryland!”

Williams was nervous, stared at the vast red wave moving closer.

“Then we shall show him his mistake, sir!”

The Marylanders held their fire, the perfect discipline of veterans. The British were close now, less than a hundred yards, and Greene felt the tightness in his throat, searched for the flag, their commander, found him now, could see the man’s scarlet coat glistening in the sharp clear sunlight, points of gold light from his polished brass buttons. Greene felt a surge of raw fury, glanced beside him, thought, A musket, just this one time. Or better, the lines should part, and we should ride out, meet close enough so that I may strike you down myself. He drew his sword, held it high, brought the point