All this had been accomplished in less than a month, and a new optimism pervaded Greene’s temporary headquarters at Fort Granby. General Greene and his Chief of Cavalry sat down to plan their new tactics, and believed it possible to gain possession of all Georgia except the coastal strip. Ninety-Six and Fort Grierson, at Augusta, were the key points, and Greene had already sent General Pickens’ brigade of veterans to the vicinity of Augusta.
It was possible that the enemy might decide to evacuate its post at Ninety-Six, and reinforce the troops at Grierson. So Harry was ordered to make a reconnaissance of Ninety-Six and, if he found the garrison already gone, to find the Redcoats on the road and force them to fight. Inasmuch as the detachment there was the strongest in the South, Greene promised to come to his subordinate’s aid.
The Legion was on the march again within a short time after the meeting, and had become so hardened to travel across rough country that more than thirteen miles were covered between early afternoon and sundown. Harry had evolved a technique that no one else, apparently, had ever thought of using. At intervals the cavalry dismounted and the infantry rode, thus enabling every man to obtain enough rest to push ahead farther and faster than could most columns that included foot soldiers.
The following morning Major Rudolph went ahead with a reconnaissance patrol, and returned late in the day to report that Ninety-Six was still much occupied, and was bristling with defenders. Harry dispatched a courier to Greene with the information, and pushed on toward Augusta, arriving in the vicinity of the town a scant seventy-two hours after leaving Fort Granby.
A chance meeting with a reconnaissance patrol from Pickens’ brigade gave him an opportunity he was quick to grasp. The garrison at Fort Galphin, twelve miles to the south, was being careless in maintaining its sentry outposts in the forests surrounding the lonely post. Harry decided to take the place before engaging in more important business.
Having discovered that trickery was infinitely preferable to costly frontal attacks, he employed still another ruse. Fort Galphin stood in a forest clearing, and the cover afforded by the trees could be used to good advantage in a scheme that various Indian tribes had often utilized.
A small party of Legion infantry was sent to the rear of the fort, on the south side, with instructions to play the role of a detachment of raw Georgia militia. The men were ordered to open fire on the defenders with a ragged volley, tempt the Redcoats into a chase and then retreat through the forest, making just enough noise to insure that the enemy would follow. Meanwhile the cavalry, under Major Rudolph’s command, hid in the forest just north of the fort.
The infantry played its role perfectly, the detachment drawing close to the walls, firing and then withdrawing again before making another advance. As the British well knew, only untrained militia behaved in this erratic manner; when professional soldiers launched an assault, they sustained it.
The gates of Fort Galphin opened at last, and two companies of Redcoat infantry came out to disperse the impudent militiamen. The infantrymen led them a merry chase to an open field about a mile away, and there the rest of the Legion infantry and Captain Eggleston’s troop of horsemen were waiting. Harry, directing this part of the operation himself, made the Redcoats captive without firing a single shot.
Meanwhile Major Rudolph and the rest of the cavalry rode unopposed into Fort Galphin and overwhelmed the remainder of the garrison. By the time Harry arrived, no more than a half-hour later, the place was completely under American control and the British flag had already been hauled down.
The Legion found a bonus in the form of unexpected supplies in the fort’s storerooms. Fifty kegs of powder and another fifty of shot were quickly loaded onto wagons taken from the enemy’s barns. There were large quantities of salt, stacks of new muskets and a surprisingly large number of swords. Only when Harry found several huge bales of unused blankets and, in one chamber, barrels of rum and brandywine piled almost to the ceiling, did it occur to him that the stores had been gathered for presentation to the local Indian tribes, whose friendship the British bought at frequent intervals.
The supplies were sent off to General Greene, along with the prisoners, Harry keeping only a little of the salt and munitions. Inasmuch as his men had grown unaccustomed to drinking spirits during the campaign, he didn’t keep a single barrel of liquor.
The day was hot and the Legion was tired after its long march, which had culminated in the capture of Fort Galphin. But Harry was eager to maintain the momentum he had achieved, and after giving the men only a few hours to eat and rest, left a company of Pickens’ militia to man the fort and went off to join the militia general outside Augusta.
The town stood in a flat clearing on the south bank of the Savannah River, the forest behind it, and was protected in an unusual manner. In the clearing, facing the forest, was a log-walled enclosure containing several buildings, known as Fort Cornwallis, which stood guard against a surprise attack from the woods. The main bastion, however, was Fort Grierson, named for a Loyalist officer who had erected an exceptionally well-constructed fortress a half-mile to the northwest, at the edge of a swamp that stood between the river and a smaller stream. Fort Grierson was manned by a full battalion of Loyalist militiamen who feared execution if captured by Patriots, and hence were prepared to fight ferociously. Fort Cornwallis was occupied by professional Redcoats, and the defenses as a whole were under the command of a British lieutenant colonel named Browne, who had acquired a reputation as a tough, able officer.
Harry Lee and Andrew Pickens met in the forest, and were pleased to see each other again. Former comrades-in-arms who had fought and marched together, they enjoyed the same kind of rapport that made Harry’s relations with Francis Marion so pleasant. Neither was disturbed by the question of whether the overall command should go to a lieutenant colonel of Continentals or a brigadier general of state militia. There was a difficult, joint task to be performed, and they were prepared to work together.
As a preliminary to actual operations, Harry followed the procedure he had used at the other British outposts he had taken, and sent Joe Eggleston ahead with a small detachment, under a flag of truce, to demand the surrender of Augusta. Colonel Browne not only refused to even consider the matter, but threatened to violate the flag of truce and shoot down the couriers unless they withdrew at once.
Good manners were still an important factor in wars during the eighteenth century. General Pickens cursed aloud when he heard Eggleston’s report, and Harry, speaking in icy, clear tones, promised to teach Browne a lesson. Harry’s subordinates had rarely seen him lose his temper, and Eggleston, writing about the incident some years later, said he had felt distinctly uncomfortable — and sorry for Colonel Browne.
The biggest question facing the Americans was that of deciding which of the forts they would attack first. Pickens and most of his officers favored Fort Cornwallis, believing the Loyalist volunteers would be easier to handle if they were denied the support of Redcoat regulars. The Legion commanders disagreed, arguing that the undisciplined Loyalist militia would buckle under siege far more rapidly than would professionals.
Harry let the others say what they pleased before expressing himself. His speech, in Eggleston’s opinion, was “a model of military teaching and deportment.”
The basic weakness of the enemy’s position, he said, was that the British forces were split. Therefore the operation would consist of two separate operations — two attacks — in which one of the principal objects would be to prevent one Redcoat fort from giving substantial assistance to the other.
In order to isolate the two garrisons, he said, he would station the Legion — with its priceless pair of six-pounder cannon — halfway between Fort Cornwallis and Fort Grierson. He then agreed with General Pickens that the latter was more vulnerable, and suggested that the bulk of the South Carolina militia take up positions in the forest on one side of Fort Grierson, with a single battalion of militia going around to the rear to prevent the Loyalists
from escaping.
The plan was put into operation at once, the South Carolina units marching off, while the Legion moved into the open, within plain view of Fort Cornwallis. Colonel Browne immediately proved he was not a man who could be intimidated, and countered by marching a large detachment out of Fort Cornwallis. The Americans put their cannon in place, and Harry was both surprised and impressed when British gun crews dragged two fieldpieces into the open plain.
A race developed to see which cannon would be operable first, but Harry disappointed his men by telling them he had no intention of engaging in a gun duel. His immediate aim was no more and no less than that of preventing the Redcoats from relieving Fort Grierson. His silence puzzled Browne, who made no attempt to fire, either, at least for the moment, and the scarlet-uniformed Britishers and green-clad Legionnaires stared at each other across less than a half-mile of open, flat field.
Suddenly Pickens began his assault on Fort Grierson, and the steady rattle of rifle fire broke the silence. Harry, using his field glass, was able to see the Loyalists responding, but at a much slower pace. And, although outnumbering Pickens’ brigade, the Loyalists’ fire was also more scattered.
Browne started to move across the field toward Fort Grierson, but the Legion cavalry, under Rudolph, moved into battle formation, and the Redcoats returned at once to their original positions just outside the entrance to Fort Cornwallis. Now Browne understood Harry’s tactics, and reacted accordingly by opening fire on the Legion with his artillery.
His gunners lacked practice, and their aim was short, but they kept Harry’s cavalry and infantry pinned down, so for all practical purposes neither the American nor British professionals were able to take an active part in the battle. As it happened, Pickens required no help.
His men kept up a steady, murderous fire, edging ever closer to the log walls of the fort, and after two hours of preparation, two companies erected scaling ladders. The Loyalists tried bitterly but in vain to repel the invaders, and soon the entire brigade had swarmed into Fort Grierson.
The hand-to-hand combat that followed was one of the most ferocious struggles of the entire American Revolution. Many of the militiamen and Loyalists knew each other; some had been neighbors, and, in a few instances, were related by blood or marriage. Feelings on both sides were violent, and neither gave quarter.
Pickens’ men gradually assumed the upper hand, and the slaughter that followed was known thereafter as the “Massacre of Fort Grierson.” None of the Loyalists’ senior officers survived, and in many instances men who surrendered were shot down. General Pickens lost control of his troops for almost an hour, and the very few Loyalists who were either taken prisoner or managed to escape and swim down the river to Fort Cornwallis were fortunate.
When Colonel Browne realized what was happening on his flank, he withdrew his force into Fort Cornwallis, the guns moving in under the protecting cover of other cannon mounted in permanent places on parapets behind the outer walls. The handful of escaped Loyalists were taken in, and the gates were barred for a protracted siege.
The victorious South Carolina militiamen were now in possession of Fort Grierson, and Pickens, after posting a strong detail there, retired to bivouac in the forest. Meanwhile Harry established siege lines around Fort Cornwallis and, accompanied by his staff, moved into a brick mansion, the property of a Loyalist sympathizer who had fled, that stood between the fort and the river.
At dawn the following morning the Legion went to work setting up stronger siege lines. A courier went off to Fort Galphin for all shovels, picks, and spades available there, and cavalry details scoured the neighborhood for more. Meanwhile all the tools carried by the Legion itself for purposes of raising breastworks were utilized, and Harry began to dig a ditch between his headquarters and the river, shielding it from enemy fire with a breastworks that rose three feet the first day and two more the next. Gradually, in the week that followed, the ditch and breastworks were extended, and it was Harry’s hope that in time he would surround the fort.
The work was hard labor in the sultry heat, and the troops were thoroughly unhappy, as all soldiers have been throughout recorded history when establishing siege lines. The task at Fort Cornwallis was complicated by the soft, sandy quality of the soil, and by swarms of mosquitoes and gnats that appeared from the forest and bedeviled the men.
General Pickens wanted to stay on and help the Continentals, but his troops refused. They had achieved the vengeance they had sought, their terms of enlistment were expiring, and they insisted on returning to their homes. Before they left, however, Pickens insisted they dismantle enough of Fort Grierson to render it inoperable.
Harry, alone now at Fort Cornwallis with his Legion, was worried because he had no natural emplacements for his artillery. Remembering the tower he had used so effectively at Fort Watson for his riflemen, he ordered a much larger and sturdier one built on the Augusta plain. The men cursed under their breaths, but went to work cutting down trees.
On the night of May 28 Colonel Browne made his first sortie. Shortly after midnight a party rode out of Fort Cornwallis in force, intending to trample down the breastworks in a surprise raid. But Harry had been expecting the enemy to try to break out of his net, the sentries were alert and the Legion infantry formed quickly behind the breastworks and opened a heavy fire on the approaching foe. The British wavered, and Harry ordered an immediate bayonet charge, an action that was extraordinary when infantry were facing cavalry, and unique when carried out at night. Browne retired at once to Fort Cornwallis.
The following day General Pickens returned with the better part of his brigade. He and his senior officers had been furious with the militia for deserting comrades in a time of great need, and the overwhelming majority had voted in favor of taking part in the siege. Some returned to Fort Grierson, and the others took places in the gradually expanding lines around the fort.
On the night of May 29 Colonel Browne again made an attempt to break out, but was driven back to the fort by combined detachments of cavalry and infantry.
The logs were now ready for the making of Harry’s artillery tower, and construction began late that night, the platform rising behind an old house Harry was planning to tear down after it served its purpose, that of screening his operation from the enemy. Work crews labored night and day on the huge structure, patiently building up the walls a foot at a time, then filling the interior cavity with sand, stones, and anything else at hand.
Harry was afraid that the enemy would make a desperate attempt to demolish the tower, once they knew of its construction, and he was uncertain how much Browne could see from the towers of Fort Cornwallis, so he posted a full company of Legion infantry to stand guard over it.
Early on the morning of June 1 the Americans discovered that the enemy had learned the tower was being erected. A large party of Redcoats drove out of Fort Cornwallis in what proved to be the most vicious sortie they had yet conducted. They drove straight for the tower, cutting almost at will through two companies of Pickens’ militia. But Oldham’s Marylanders and a company of Legion infantry moved up quickly, and after a brief, hard fight, sent the Redcoats reeling back to their fort.
By sunrise on the morning of June 1 Colonel Browne once again demonstrated his resilience and ingenuity. He had worked all night hauling three four-pounder cannon into position on the parapet opposite the tower, and began a furious cannonade with heated iron balls.
Harry had two choices. He could order his men to crouch behind breastworks until the Redcoats exhausted their ammunition, but that alternative meant a delay in completing the tower that might last weeks. His other choice involved the risk of suffering casualties, but he elected to complete work on the tower as rapidly as possible, and put every available man on the job.
Work on the cumbersome structure was finished shortly before noon that same day, and the six-pounders were hoisted to the top of the tower in slings the artillerymen had devised for the purpose. The combined efforts of more
than one hundred soldiers were required to move the American guns into position.
Powder and shot were carried up to the tower, and the American gunners went to work immediately, while every man not on sentry duty stood below to watch. In less than an hour all three of the British four-pounders were silenced. The cannon remained active throughout the afternoon, sending volleys crashing into Fort Cornwallis every fifteen to thirty minutes until sundown.
Harry was hopeful that Browne would realize he was trapped, and would surrender now, but the silence from the fort was discouraging. The British commander had already proved himself an exceptionally stubborn man, and he quickly demonstrated again that he had no intention of giving up. He also showed himself capable of matching the enemy trick for trick.
That same evening, as Harry was eating dinner at his headquarters, word was brought to him that a British sergeant had escaped from the fort and was giving himself up. The man was a grizzled Scotsman who had spent years in service. His story was that he himself had become discouraged because of Browne’s intransigence. The garrison would hold out to the last man, but he was being sensible.
Harry questioned the prisoner at length, and finally persuaded him to identify the location of Fort Cornwallis’ powder magazine. Accurate artillery fire could explode the powder and make it impossible for Browne to hold out any longer. The sergeant climbed the gun tower and pointed out the magazine inside the walls, but insisted on going below again at once, pointing out that his recapture could lead to his execution on the grounds of treason.
Some of the Legion’s younger officers were elated by the sergeant’s revelations, and predicted that Fort Cornwallis would fall by mid-morning. Harry was less certain of the outcome, and believed it possible, if not likely, that the sergeant had been sent by Colonel Browne to tell his glib story — for some as yet unexplained purpose.
Light-Horse Harry: A Biography of Washington’s Great Cavalryman, General Henry Lee (Heroes and Villains from American History) Page 15