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The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [315]

By Root 1451 0
according to the political bent of the reader. The king’s men would trumpet the success as one more sign the war was going their way. The opposition would have a different view, and he imagined the speeches in Parliament, the king’s enemies growing more bold with each bit of news. No matter how much Germain and Lord North colored the facts, the opposition would know what Cornwallis knew himself. Throughout most of the war, the British had proven superior on the field, the rebels reduced to fighting from positions of weakness, resorting to tactics that would make bandits proud. On every field where Cornwallis had led the assault, his regulars had driven the rebels away. But now, as he marched his army away from their tragic victory at Guilford, he understood that the rebels could only succeed in a war fought exactly as they had fought it. And now, six years after it had begun, the rebels were clearly winning.

He had begun to see their commanders in a different light, appreciated now that their talents exceeded what a trained officer typically brought to the field. He had never thought of Washington as a military mind, had viewed Fort Washington and Brandywine as stupidly executed disasters. But the rebels were a different kind of army, and so, their commanders were different as well. Both Howe and Clinton had allowed too much time to slip by, too many opportunities for the rebel commanders to learn from their mistakes. The rebels had grown into their roles, men like Greene and Morgan and Lafayette learning how to shape their tactics around the abilities of their men. Greene’s retreat from Guilford was perfectly timed. As Cornwallis moved his men into position for a final grand assault, the rebels were exactly where Cornwallis needed them to be. Then, Greene had pulled them away, and Cornwallis knew now that Greene had saved the rebel army from utter destruction. And so, one more disaster had become instead one more valuable lesson, and today, Greene would be a better commander.

Ah, he thought, but Greene gave us the field. That is what will matter to Henry Clinton and George Germain. I will be congratulated, no matter that I now have barely fifteen hundred hungry, shoeless soldiers. And if we do not find supplies soon, we may simply collapse into no army at all.

He had sent word down to the outposts both at Wilmington and Camden, an urgent order for forage and food to be sent to Cross Creek. The town was a vibrant Scottish settlement sprawled along the headwaters of the Cape Fear River. It was believed to be a solidly loyalist area, the Scots fiercely proud of their allegiance to the king. The quartermasters had already marched ahead, leaving behind encouraging words for the troops, that once they reached Cross Creek, the army could rely on a fresh outpouring of loyalist sentiment in the form of both supplies and recruits. It was optimism Cornwallis had heard before.

He was not surprised to learn that Greene’s army was pursuing him, though the only confrontations had come from the cavalry, Tarleton’s men holding away the light horse of Lee. But Greene would stay close, and even if the rebels were too badly bruised to make a fight, he knew Greene would trail him to Cross Creek, seeking some opportunity to strike. It was all the incentive Cornwallis needed to push his army in a desperate march. Though he had to believe his troops would still have the spirit for a fight, they were lacking one essential ingredient. Since they had burned their wagons at Ramsour’s Mill, there had been no means to resupply their cartridge boxes. Though food was an urgent necessity, a lack of ammunition meant they could not force a general engagement. Even if they relied on the bayonet, they could not survive another victory like Guilford.


CROSS CREEK, NORTH CAROLINA, MARCH 29, 1781

The Scotsmen had met Cornwallis’ call for support the same way most of the Carolinas had responded. The British were ignored. As the army marched into Cross Creek, they were delivered only four days of forage for the desperately weak horses, the quartermasters

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