Washington's Immortals

by Patrick K. O'Donnell

  Greene ordered Oldham and Lee to head toward Wilmington in an attempt to deceive the British about their true line of march. Once confident the ruse had succeeded, the Marylanders and the horsemen abruptly changed direction and headed south to join the Swamp Fox, Francis Marion. Their combined forces would hit Fort Watson, a crucial spoke about fifty-five miles south of Camden that guarded the supply chain connecting Charleston to Camden. Simultaneously, Greene and the main army marched on Camden, the linchpin in the defensive network of posts.

  Garrisoned by eighty regulars and forty Loyalists, Fort Watson sat atop a thirty-foot mound surrounded by three rows of nasty abatis. The Marylanders and other troops surrounded the fort on April 15, 1781, and began considering how they would compel those inside to surrender the garrison. They approached the defenders with a white flag and demanded their unconditional surrender—and were rebuffed. Next, Oldham and Lee cut off the fort’s only source of water, but the defenders countered by digging a forty-foot well within Watson’s stout walls. A stalemate ensued. The British thumbed their noses at the Americans, knowing they lacked entrenching tools, heavy artillery, and the time for a protracted siege. Then, in a display of quintessential American ingenuity, Colonel Hezekiah Maham came up with a novel solution: The Patriots would build a large tower out of trees from the area. By climbing the structure, the men could shoot down into the enemy fortifications, while the thick logs protected them from return fire.

  On the night of April 22, the Americans carried the Lincoln Log–like sections of the tower to within rifle range of the fort, where they erected the Maham tower, as their log structure came to be known. Manned by some of Oldham’s riflemen, the tower loomed over the walls of the fort, and at first light the riflemen started picking off the defenders inside. Concurrently, two forlorn-hope assault parties, one made up of Marylanders and the other of Marion’s men, hit the abatis.

  The lethal fire from the tower prevented the defenders from manning the fort’s walls. And the tower, combined with the ground assault from the forlorn hope, caused the garrison to capitulate soon.

  While Fort Watson was small, its loss had a major impact on the war in the South, a fact recognized by Francis, Lord Rawdon, the British officer who currently commanded the defenses at Camden as well as the Crown’s eight thousand troops that garrisoned the forts dotting the South Carolina and Georgia countryside. The loss of Fort Watson meant that Rawdon’s supply lines were cut, putting the crucial post at Camden in jeopardy.

  On the afternoon of April 19, while some of the Continentals and the militiamen were constructing the Maham tower at Fort Watson, Greene and many of the other Marylanders arrived at the outskirts of Camden. The American commander had found the outpost too heavily fortified for a direct assault. Several stout redoubts, which arced around the town and connected with interlocking defenses, and a central stockade would have gored his men. Less than two miles from his adversary, Greene gazed on the fortified town. He did not possess the numbers to invest in a siege; instead, he waited for the British to attack.

  Greene hoped to lure Rawdon out of his defenses to attack the Americans’ numerically stronger forces on favorable ground. To that end, he employed a series of probes to provoke Rawdon. On the night of April 20, under cover of darkness, Captain Bob Kirkwood and his crack light infantry hit Logtown, a grouping of seedy cabins situated on the outskirts of Camden. Kirkwood’s men quickly seized most of the hamlet, but a “scattering fire was kept up all night.” At dawn a sharp firefight took place. “[We] had a smart schirmaze [skirmish], beat in the Enemy, about two hours afterwards had a Very agreeable Sight of the Advance [fortifications of Camden] of the Army.”

  The next day, the Delaware Blues and William Washington’s cavalry mounted a raid on the western side of Camden and “Burnt a House in one of the Enemy’s Redoubts.” The raid yielded scores of cattle and horses. The pinprick-like raids posed only a minor problem to the British—until the fall of Fort Watson.

  The stalemate broke on April 24. Rawdon, “the ugliest officer in the British Army,” listened intently as a teenage Maryland drummer boy divulged priceless information that changed the course of the entire campaign. The boy, who had fought hours earlier alongside his brothers in the American line before deciding to change sides, revealed Greene’s order of battle to the twenty-six-year-old Rawdon and gave him the crucial information that Greene would soon be reinforced by Thomas Sumter and Francis Marion.

  To make matters worse, Rawdon had recently gotten word of the fall of Fort Watson. The loss of the outpost, combined with the Swamp Fox’s running amok in the countryside and ambushing his supply train, cut Camden off from Charleston. Rawdon needed to act quickly before food supplies gave out. If Camden fell into American hands, the posts within the network would either wither on the vine from lack of supply or face destruction if Greene concentrated his forces on any one of them.

  The British had only about a week’s worth of supplies stockpiled in Camden. In what was one of the most daring assaults of the Revolution, Rawdon audaciously decided to attack Greene. Outnumbered two to three, the Irish scion took drastic measures to beef up his force, combing Camden for every warm body he could find.

  On the chilly morning of April 25, 1781, at ten o’clock, Rawdon marched out of Camden to attack. “By arming our musicians, our drummers, and in short everything that could carry a firelock, I mustered above nine hundred for the field, sixty of whom were dragoons. With this force and two six-pounders we marched, about ten o’clock yesterday morning, leaving our redoubts to the care of the militia and a few sick soldiers.”

  Just a few miles away from Rawdon’s oncoming onslaught, Greene sipped a cup of tea while his fifteen-hundred-man army leisurely washed their clothes and cleaned their weapons. The Marylanders and the rest of Greene’s troops manned defensive positions about a mile and a half outside Camden on a sandy ridge known as Hobkirk’s Hill. Timber and thick, lush underbrush coated large portions of the knoll, while the Great Wagon Road bisected the center of the embankment. In a reverse of the alignment of the troops at Guilford Courthouse, the Rhode Islander posted the Marylanders up front to the east of the Great Wagon Road with the Virginia Continentals on its western side. The militiamen stayed atop the hill in reserve with Washington’s cavalry. Greene’s army waited for Lord Rawdon to make the next move, completely unaware of how soon it would come.

  To deceive the Americans, Rawdon’s troops raced south, “filing close to the swamps,” and then quickly turned east into a wooded area to mask their movements. Rawdon’s scratch force consisted of infantry, cavalry, two artillery pieces, and even a company of fifty walking wounded designated “convalescents.” They tramped along a meandering stream toward the left flank of the American lines, which was manned by the Marylanders and Kirkwood’s Company. In a shocking American intelligence failure, the British remained unseen by Greene’s sentries until they hit pickets about three hundred yards in front of the Marylanders.

  The Volunteers of Ireland, who had tangled with the Marylanders at Camden, charged into pickets occupied by Maryland and Virginia Continentals. Kirkwood’s Blues served as a reserve behind the pickets and quickly moved into line with the Continentals. Moving from tree to tree, the Americans kept the Volunteers at bay long enough that the main line could form behind them.

  Hearing the sharp firefight in their front, Captain William Beatty and the other officers roused the men from their camp duties and ordered them to fall into the line. Many of the men “were still washing [their clothes] and never joined us,” bemoaned Howard.

  Confused and stunned, the Marylanders formed and received the British bravely. Advancing on a narrow front as they attacked the Marylanders, the Volunteers of Ireland charged at a slight angle because Rawdon’s long column of men was moving westward. As the British assaulted the Americans, the Redcoats were pelted with “heavy showers of Grape.” The artillery had a chilling effect on the British advance; as
Seymour remembered, “[It] put the enemy in great confusion, having killed and dangerously wounded a great number of them.”

  Smoke and thick vegetation obscured the line of sight for both sides until they were nearly on top of each other. One Continental described the sights and sounds of the battle as a “universal blaze of musketry from left to right throughout our whole line for an hour, every officer exhorting all the bravery and energy of his soul.”

  The American artillery and musket fire checked the British advance. “The Enemy were staggered in all quarters, and upon the left retiring.” Greene the brilliant strategist morphed into Greene the tactician—a role he never filled well. Sensing the tide of the battle turning in his favor, Greene ordered an attack. Instead of receiving Rawdon’s assault and counterattacking, he rolled the dice on an all-out assault “to charge bayonets without firing.” William Washington, serving as part of the reserve, would circle around Rawdon to hit him from the rear.

  Everything was coming together for a crushing American victory, and then it all started to fall apart.

  The intrepid Beatty, one of the original Boys of ’76, who had risen to the rank of captain, led the advance companies of the 1st Maryland in the charge. As he and others, including Thomas Carney and Gassaway Watkins, bravely surged forward, a musket ball struck Beatty in the head, killing him instantly. Greene later praised the young officer as “an ornament to his profession,” and poignantly noted that “the promising young youth who was engaged to marry an amiable girl” would never see her again. The death of a prominent, much-admired battle captain many likely viewed as bulletproof caused “confusion and [the men] dropped out of line.” The disorder spread through the companies around Beatty as more men went down. Fatefully, Colonel John Gunby ordered the regiment to fall back and re-form. The order created a disastrous chain reaction. As the men retreated, a huge hole formed in the American line, dooming the American counterattack.

  Simultaneously, the 2nd Maryland charged forward, but soon faced enfilading fire from Rawdon’s men. A ball traveling at nearly seven hundred feet per second crushed the elbow of the 2nd’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Ford. The regiment fell back in chaos. Ford’s men carried him from the field.

  Despite the mounting losses, John Eager Howard and Jack Steward continued to surge forward until Howard received the order from Gunby to fall back, which he obeyed. Soon the Eastern Shore native, “exerting himself,” attempted to rally his men. The Marylanders briefly re-formed and fired a few shots before they fled for their lives up the hill. Rawdon’s men continued to surge forward with the American guns in their sights. In his fifth year of war, militant surgeon Richard Pindell, riding Lawrence Everhart’s horse, which he had obtained at Cowpens, once again tried to rally the men as he had first done at Brandywine. “I aided the officers in repeatedly rallying and keeping in order a great number of the retreating troops,” he recalled. “After the officers were exhausted and worn down, I kept them together by my own personal exertions.”

  Captain John Smith and his company, made up of about forty-five Irish Marylanders, stood in the way of the oncoming British horde. In the midst of the charge, Greene galloped up to Smith and “ordered him to fall into the rear and save the cannon.”

  Smith, recovered from the head wound delivered by Lieutenant Colonel James Stuart at Guilford, swiftly moved into action. The matrosses, the assistant gunners who tugged on heavy ropes that hauled the guns, had abandoned their posts at the sight of the tide of Redcoats. Seizing the thick hemp ropes with one hand and holding their muskets in the other, Smith’s men slowly dragged the guns off Hobkirk’s Hill. Suddenly, at full gallop, British dragoons charged Smith’s men. Smith and the other men dropped the ropes, formed, aimed, and fired their weapons at the oncoming horsemen—dropping many and forcing their withdrawal. Rawdon’s infantry rumbled forward, and Smith’s band received them and “fought like bulldogs” and “repeated [this] several times until they got within two or three miles from the field of action.”

  William Washington’s cavalry finally appeared on the field. Instead of attacking Rawdon’s rear as directed by Greene, his cavalry inexplicably took a circuitous route behind Logtown and fell upon a group of Redcoats. The Virginian paroled or captured two hundred British troops. Not one to kill unarmed prisoners of war without cause, he was bogged down and delayed by their number. However, Washington arrived in the nick of time to help save the guns. Even Greene had a hand in the action and was seen dismounting and helping pull the ropes. The guns were saved. On the other hand, Smith and his men were not. After taking heavy losses, Smith surrendered and was stripped down to his shirt and his commission, which “hung around his neck in his bosom.”

  With the guns safe, Greene continued his general withdrawal, retreating several miles to the old Camden battlefield. Here amid the bones of the fallen and debris of the previous summer’s battle, he prepared to receive Rawdon, whose exhausted troops had the strength to pursue the Americans only a few miles.

  Greene soon sent Kirkwood and Washington back to the hill to save the wounded and pick up any stragglers. Using a bit of guile and bluff, Washington and the Delaware Blues attempted to lure the British dragoons off the hill into an ambush. The ruse didn’t work, and as soon as the Brits realized the subterfuge, they retreated. Kirkwood and Washington brought the American wounded back to the old Camden battlefield, and Doctor Pindell once again went to work tending the wounded, while many of them lay dying. Rawdon’s losses amounted to 38 killed, 177 wounded, and 43 missing. Outnumbered two to three, he had won a remarkable tactical victory. However, by vacating the city after the win, he gave up the key British post in South Carolina; the relinquishment had strategic consequences that affected the rest of the war.

  Along with the death of Beatty, Williams recorded American losses as follows: 18 enlisted killed in action, 108 wounded, and 136 missing. While many of the missing found their way back to American lines, some willingly went into the hands of the British. Rawdon dryly noted, “A number . . . finding their retreat cut off, went into Camden & claimed protection as Deserters.”

  After lingering for nearly two months, original Baltimore Independent Cadet Benjamin Ford succumbed to wounds sustained in the battle. As usual, Doctor Pindell tended to the men severely wounded in the battle, including his close friend Ford. “The dye is cast,” he wrote. “We were yesterday reduced to the disagreeable necessity of Amputating one of our Dearest Friends, who since he has reached this place has suffered one continued scene of pain . . . the bones exposed and the arm became swelled.”

  The loss of two core officers took its toll, as Williams noted: “Ford died a few Days hence of the wound he received before Camden. Have not enough officers left to command the small band of veterans still left.”

  The manpower shortage led to some unconventional ideas, including the recruitment of African Americans from the South. A leading figure in this area was Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, a prominent South Carolinian whose father was an ambassador to France. He petitioned George Washington about the idea, which included emancipating slaves after their service in the American army. The Marylanders also had a hand in the project, and Jack Steward asked the Maryland government to let him command a regiment of African Americans. In addition, Otho Holland Williams discussed the idea with his good friend Samuel Smith in Baltimore: “Williams had asked in his letter to Col. Smith why, if white men could not be got, Negroes were not enlisted; there is talk of raising such a regiment, and [Jack Steward] wants the command. [There is doubt] that Steward can wheedle the legislature into giving it to him.” Despite being personally torn on the subject, Washington scotched the idea owing to the sensitive nature of slavery in the South.

  Condemned to death by Rawdon, Captain John Smith stared at the dank walls of the Camden jail. Several British witnesses had attested “that Capt. Smith had killed Col. Stuart of the Kings Guards in cold blood two hours before the b
attle on his knees begging for mercy.” By chance, a British deserter informed Greene of Smith’s plight, and Greene, standing by his officer, fired off an angry missive to Rawdon. Under the protection of a flag of truce, a messenger delivered the letter, which said, “Nothing can be more foreign from the truth than the charge. Captain Smith no doubt did his duty in the action but has too noble a nature to be guilty of such a base conduct as you mention, nor did I ever hear an insinuation of the Kind in the army.”

  Persuaded by Greene’s letter, Rawdon rescinded Smith’s death sentence and paroled the wealthy Baltimore native. Ten days after the battle, Rawdon gave up on trying to destroy Greene after several failed attempts to attack, because each time Greene retreated and took up a superb defensive position. Out of supply after the fall of Fort Watson, Rawdon torched Camden, leaving it a heap of ashes, and evacuated the city, bringing with him “all the most obnoxious loyalists.” Dozens of American wounded remained behind and under the care of the paroled John Smith, whom Rawdon appointed “commandant of the place, in charge of the sick and wounded.”

  Guilford Dudley, a North Carolina militia officer who barely survived Camden, had breakfast with Greene days after the battle. He remembered that Greene wore “a smile of complacency” when he heard the news. Greene himself laconically summed up the experience: “We fight, get beat, rise and fight again.”

  Having accomplished their strategic objective, the Marylanders left the smoking ashes of Camden and pushed deeper into South Carolina to destroy Rawdon’s outposts one by one. Their next target was the crucial outpost of Ninety Six, located on the Georgia border. They were not accompanied by Smith, who honored his parole and began the long journey on foot to Charleston. There he placed himself in the hands of the British but feared to “feel the Effects of British tiriny,” as he wrote to Williams before setting out. He lived out the remainder of the war in British custody. He never experienced mistreatment from the British, but ironically felt the wrath of his fellow Americans. On the road to Charleston, this original member of Smallwood’s Battalion was tortured and attacked by thugs claiming to be Whigs, who “stripped him, bound him and inflicted on him a barbarous castigation on the bare back.”