“For Greene, the campaign meant a last opportunity at an independent command. For Sumter, it was a quest of personal revenge.”

IN THE AFTERMATH of the Battle of Hobkirk’s Hill on April 25, 1781, Nathanael Greene was livid. But the Quaker general’s own lacklustre battlefield performance wasn’t what infuriated him, nor was it the wretched condition of his defeated Continental Army. It was Thomas Sumter who drew his wrath.

In a recollection from his memoir, Greene’s commissary general William Davie recalled:

“General Greene was deeply disgusted with the conduct of General Sumter, who had repeatedly refused to obey his express and urgent orders to join him . . . and considering him as a mere Pandour or freebooter, whose sole object was plunder.”

But how did two American generals tasked with driving the British from the southern colonies come to blows with one another? My book, The Quaker and the Gamecock, tells the story of the complicated relationship between these two American generals, set against the American’s bloody campaign to liberate South Carolina and the brutal civil war raging there at that time. Here’s the story.

After the British capture of Charleston in May 1780, South Carolina’s Patriot administration fled the state, leaving Sumter, the famed “Carolina Gamecock,” as the former colony’s de facto military dictator. When Greene marched his army from Guilford Courthouse, North Carolina toward South Carolina in the Spring of 1781, he realized he would need Sumter’s cooperation to dislodge the British occupation force from the region. That support erratic, to say the least.Following Greene’s defeat at Guilford Courthouse on March 15, 1781, British General Charles Cornwallis marched his own bloodied army to Wilmington, North Carolina, where he could use Royal Navy naval transports to seek more advantageous theatres.

Greene shocked British and American alike by refusing to follow Cornwallis to Wilmington, instead turning his army toward the British outpost at Camden, South Carolina. The decision violated established military protocol; by leaving an enemy army unchallenged, Greene exposed his own rear to attack.

“Don’t be surprised if my movements don’t correspond with your Ideas of military propriety,” Greene warned a fellow officer. “War is an intricate business, and people are often saved by ways and means they least look for or expect.”

Greene hoped to deliberately confuse Cornwallis, perhaps provoking him into another trap. For his part, Cornwallis seemed offended.

“Greene took advantage of my being obliged to come to this place [Wilmington], and has marched into South Carolina,” he wrote huffily, though not offended enough to take Greene’s bait. Instead he would sail to Virginia, eventually trapping himself at Yorktown.

Now Greene’s plans to push the British occupation force out of South Carolina hinged on support from Sumter and the South Carolina militia.

“I . . . have written Genl. Sumter to collect the Militia and aid the operations,” he wrote to George Washington in his letter explaining his decision to return to South Carolina.

The two commanders already had reason to be wary of one another, for they had previously clashed.

In the weeks before the January, 1781 Battle of Cowpens, Sumter had his subordinates refuse orders from Continental General Daniel Morgan. Not surprisingly, Morgan complained to Greene, who in turn chastised Sumter. Now months later, Greene sought to repair the relationship. After he wrote Sumter of his decision to fight at Camden, Sumter pledged his support.

“Nothing in the Summit of my Power Shall be Neglected that may in the least tend to further your operations against the Enemy,” he wrote to Greene.

Arriving outside Camden in April, Greene was disappointed to find the outpost better defended than expected, which only increased his need for militia support. Commanding Camden was Francis, Lord Rawdon, the 26-year-old Irish noblemen who was one of Britain’s ablest combat officers.

Rawdon led approximately 8,000 soldiers across South Carolina and Georgia, although only 900 troops were with him at Camden. Greene’s ragtag army of 1,500 outnumbered Rawdon’s, but the Crown’s formidable defences there made attack impossible.

Greene hoped for more than just troops from Sumter, provisions were also needed. The requests fell on deaf ears.

“I wrote you a day or two ago of our arrival in the neighbourhood of Camden, and desired to know your strength and situation, to which I have received no answer,” Greene noted in a letter to Sumter. “I long to hear from you that I may know how to take my measures respecting Provisions and other matters.”

In fact, the cooperation Sumter promised never materialized, nor did any response to Greene’s increasingly desperate pleas. With few other options, Greene maneuvered his army around Camden, in an effort to provoke the British into battle. Rawdon’s supplies were also running low, and when he received intelligence that Greene was without his artillery, he decided to strike early on the morning of April 25.

Greene had set up his camp at Hobkirk’s Hill hoping for just such an attack. What’s more, Rawdon’s intelligence was faulty: the Continentals actually had three six-pound cannons. Greene’s men were enjoying their breakfast as fire from the pickets signalled Rawdon’s approach. The rebels rushed to battle.

Perhaps they did so too quickly, for when historians claim that Greene was no genius as a battlefield commander, Hobkirk’s Hill is often part of the evidence cited. Instead of fighting from a defensive position with his cannon, Greene ordered his men forward to meet Rawdon’s charge and committed his reserve too soon. After intense fighting, the American lines became disorganized and confused, forcing Greene into a retreat.

Rawdon reported suffering 33 killed, 151 wounded, and 39 missing at Hobkirk’s Hill. American casualties are estimated at 21 dead, 113 wounded, 47 captured and 89 missing. That the battle ended in a tactical stalemate with neither side gaining the advantage was cold comfort to Greene, who blamed Sumter for the loss.

“The love of pleasure and the want of principle among many of those who are our friends renders the exertions very languid in support of our cause,” Greene complained with Sumter clearly on his mind.

Greene’s opinion wasn’t helped by Sumter’s move south of Camden almost immediately after the battle. Suddenly, with timing that suggested more than coincidence, Sumter once more had adequate troops for his own campaigning. Sweeping the Broad River valley for food, horses, and slaves, Sumter made his way toward the Congaree in the last days of April. His objective was the outposts there guarding British supply and captured loot.

Realizing he had little control over the Gamecock’s actions, Greene swallowed his rage and acquiesced to Sumter’s plan. His effort to defeat the British in South Carolina had only just begun, and Greene knew he would need the temperamental Gamecock’s militia army if his plans had any chance of success. Confronting Sumter over his recalcitrance could only lead to conflict between the two allies, jeopardizing these plans.

Still, Greene grew increasingly despondent, and as Rawdon attempted to force him into another battle on the May 7, the American general had little choice but retreat. After falling back on May 7, Greene retreated north again on May 8 and May 9. But with Greene refusing to engage, Rawdon deemed his own position untenable and ordered Camden evacuated.

Upon learning of Rawdon’s withdrawal on the morning of May 10, Greene was jubilant.

“The place [Camden] was the key to the Enemy’s line of posts,” Greene exclaimed to Davie. “They will now all fall or soon be evacuated—All will now go well.—Burn your letters—I shall march immediately to the Congaree.”

Greene’s optimism would prove prophetic—after another bloody slugfest at Eutaw Springs on Sept. 8, 1781, the British army would retreat to Charleston, essentially ending their occupation of the state.

If Hobkirk’s Hill reveals the limitations of Nathanael Greene the combat general, it also reveals the depth of his strategic understanding. For Greene, the campaign meant a last opportunity at an independent command. For Sumter, it was a quest of personal revenge that showcased his innate understanding of the frontier character in both positive and negative light. Both men needed the other to defeat the British, yet throughout the Southern Campaign, their forceful personalities, divergent leadership styles, and opposing objectives would clash again and again, a fascinating story of our nation’s bloody birth.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Andrew Waters is the author of The Quaker and the Gamecock. A writer and conservationist residing in Spartanburg, South Carolina, he is the editor of three slave narrative collections. As a land conservationist, he has facilitated the preservation of over 20,000 acres in the Carolinas. Currently, he is pursuing his Ph.D in parks and recreation management at Clemson University.