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By Root 1376 0

down slowly, focused on the man’s chest, studied every part of him, the white dusty wig, the calm stare on the man’s face. The British line halted now, thirty yards in front of the Maryland troops. Their front line suddenly dropped down to one knee, two rows of muskets pointed straight at the troops in front of them. Williams did not wait, and Greene heard his shout. The Maryland line fired first in a massive volley. Greene felt himself shouting, a hot angry cheer, saw Williams rush forward, shouting orders, driving his horse close up behind his men. The Marylanders made their charge, swarmed through the British line, the fight now with the bayonet. But the British held their discipline, some firing as well, the Maryland line staggered by the sudden blow. Williams drew them back, a withdrawal in good order, the British stumbling back as well, then drawing up, coming together again. There was musket fire on both sides now, and Greene could hear the sharp whistle of the ball past his head, felt a hand on his arm, saw Burnet, pulling him back.

“Sir! Withdraw! Sir!”

He turned the horse, glanced back, tried to see the British officer, but the field was a mass of smoke and writhing bodies, heaps of bloody horror, the fight growing into a deafening chatter. He spurred the horse, moved down to the other Maryland line, men not yet engaged. These were Williams’ men as well, but Williams was still directing the fight on his left. Greene rode up behind them, saw the junior officers watching him, could see relief on their faces. Down toward the woods, more British units were emerging, finding their way to what had now become the main fight. In front of Williams, he could see British troops falling back again, driven away by the thunderous blows from the First Maryland. The retreating British came together again, but many of them had shifted into line with the fresher troops. They were re-forming now, barely a hundred yards away, and he could see that many of them had seen enough of the First Maryland. He waved his hat high, shouted, “Maryland will stand tall today! Show them, boys! Show them!”

The British began to advance again, and Greene saw Williams, riding toward him, his hat gone, sword in hand. Williams shouted to his men, “Prepare to receive them! Wait for the order to fire!”

Greene backed his horse away, could see down to the woods, the last British troops to emerge. They were advancing well up the rise, and he looked at Williams, said, “Colonel, this is your command. I must see to General Huger. If the Virginia Regulars will make such a fight, this day is ours!”

He heard the first roar of Williams’ new fight, turned, expected to see a vast wave of smoke, more devastation along the British advance. This part of the Maryland line was the Fifth Regiment, and they were not the veterans that had come through so much of the war. They were Smallwood’s fresh recruits, men who had not yet seen a fight, who did not yet know what it was to stand tall in the field. The thunderous volley had not come from their ranks, was all on the side of the British. Greene stared, was stunned to see the entire line suddenly pulling back, men running without firing a single round. The British seemed as surprised as he was, began to advance again, but the fresh Marylanders did not have the steel of their brothers, and before the British could even make use of the bayonet, that part of Greene’s main line was simply gone.

THE FIGHT CONSUMED TWO HOURS, AND FACED WITH A CONTINUING pressure from Cornwallis’ disciplined army, Greene finally had no alternative but to order a retreat. By nightfall, his exhausted army found their way nearly seven miles, to an easily defensible position in a place called, ironically, Troublesome Creek. Though Tarleton’s men eventually attempted a pursuit, the wooded countryside after dark was no place for cavalry. Greene was able to gather in many of his stragglers and lead the orderly march himself. He rode beside the proud and infuriated veterans, the men who had so nearly prevailed but were denied the victory by the curse