Chapter 68 Disgrace

Yorktown, October 18, 1781…

Lord Cornwallis' head pounded with every round of artillery that landed on the British side of the lines. His staff generals stood about him in the dining room of the Moore's house in Yorktown. The reinforcements promised by Clinton had not arrived yet and the Colonial rebels were getting closer. For days they had rushed the lines, captured redoubts, and played on the nerves of the redcoats. This morning, The Lord General had been informed that the British were in a desperate position, and that all the ammunition was exhausted.

General Tavington stood straight and tall in the dining room amongst the generals, but a look of exhaustion was in his eyes and on his face. He stayed quiet in the tense silence, hoping that Earl Cornwallis secretly had another card to play; that all wasn't finished yet.

Cornwallis got up from the table and made another trip over to the window. He looked out and surveyed the village and as much of the battlefield as he could see from there. Then he looked at his pocket watch.

"It's 9 o'clock in the morning," he noted blandly. The Earl then made his way back over to the table and sat back down.

After another moment, he called Captain Nixon, a low ranking aide-de-camp over to him and whispered something in his ear. The officer bowed his head swiftly and left the room.

Cornwallis' head dropped and the man slumped forward over the table a little, then buried his face in his hands.

Tavington's mouth dropped open, but he closed it as soon as he realized he was gaping at the Earl. He felt his heart drop and couldn't believe this was happening. The officer then ran outside onto the sidewalk, where the cannon fire from the enemy seemed particularly loud. Will looked over to his right and saw a smartly dressed drummer boy walking up to the top of a nearby parapet on the British breastwork. Captain Nixon followed closely behind.

William watched in disappointment as the little drummer assumed his position atop the hill and began to beat a parley that he could barely hear. Then he saw Captain Nixon waving a white handkerchief in slow, sweeping motions. It was a surrender; the British could fight no more.

General Tavington felt tears start to sting his eyes as he watched the scene with a sunken heart. Suddenly all the years he'd been in the colonies and all the battles he had fought passed through his mind at lightning speed. He'd risked life and limb, and been seriously injured, all for defeat.

In a moment, he remembered himself. You are an officer, William—a General! Be proud. Don't show those bloody rebels your disappointment. With that, he took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back and raised his head. It was then that he decided that whatever would become of him as an officer during this surrender, that he would remain stoic and proud during this disgrace.

After what was only a few moments, but what seemed like an eternity to Tavington, the artillery fire finally stopped. The drummer continued beating his parley, which seemed to pierce the air now that it was quiet. Will made his was closer to where Captain Nixon and the boy stood. Looking to an angle, he saw a small contingent of blue coated men making their way across the grass and mud of the battlefield. Tavington sucked in a breath, yet kept a stone face as he watched the men blindfold the British captain, then lead him away back across the field to the rebel lines.

General Tavington watched as the little drummer boy walked down from the small mound. He hung his head as he walked past the tall general, for the young drummer was crying and embarrassed that he was.

William turned and watched the boy as he stopped. He could see the drummer taking a deep breath then raise his hands to his face, probably wiping the tears away. The boy turned back to face the officer, realizing he'd forgotten to acknowledge the man with respect as he walked by, too wrapped up in his own sorrow.

The young boy bowed his head to Tavington. "General," he said simply.

"Well done, lad," William said with a nod of his head.

"Sir, did we lose?" he asked.

Tavington heaved a sullen sigh then replied, "Yes."

-/-

William Tavington looked at his pocket watch quickly, noting the time. He watched as the officer who would be riding beside him today, Major Watson, climbed upon the horse then received the British flag, handed up to him. The general looked at the man and spoke.

"2 O'clock in the afternoon, 19th of October, seventeen hundred and eighty one," he declared, "an hour of disgrace for the Crown."

"Yes, sir," the dejected Major answered.

"I'd much rather march to the noose instead of to surrender," Tavington proclaimed.

"Aye, sir," Watson replied.

As the two men waited on General Charles O'Hara to join them, Tavington thought about the hours that had followed their surrender on the previous morning. William was still sore that all the details of the terms of surrender weren't being shared with every officer, and that he was having to rely on second hand information.

He only knew that the lower ranks of men were to surrender their arms, and would be imprisoned as official prisoners of war. Rumors were still flying about as to what punishment His Majesty's officers faced.

At lunchtime today, the generals had been gathered into the dining room of the house. At that time, Lord Cornwallis announced that he would not be attending the surrender ceremonies. He ordered that Generals O'Hara and Tavington were to attend in his place with his apologies. The earl informed at that time that the men were to be fully dressed in uniform and to march in ranks behind the two Generals. The flag bearer, Major Watson, was to have the colors cased as per the colonial's surrender requests.

William took the surrender of the British, after having performed his duties with loyalty and having risked his life, and eventually been injured in the process, very personally. He abhorred that he and General O'Hara had been ordered to perform this most embarrassing of tasks that the Earl should have been doing. He did not question the order, but decided that he would look his best and hold his head high during the disgrace, and show no emotion.

After another moment, Charles O'Hara joined the waiting officers. He looked back at the ranks, seeing the men dressed smartly in their red uniforms. He yelled back at the ranks, "Gentlemen, it's been an honor to serve with all of you. Remember who you are and what you fought for, and of that, you can be proud. So, hold your heads high, men, and keep a stiff upper lip!"

Then he moved his horse back into line with Major Watson and General Tavington flanking him. He gave order for army to move out.

As the British column moved down the road toward the meeting area, the trio of officers leading the men looked about and noticed the French and colonial soldiers lining the road, standing straight and in rank. Tavington noted that the French were dressed nicely in uniform, and the rebels bore remnants of uniforms, with some in the full blue kit mixed in here and there. He wondered to himself how this rag tag bunch had beaten them. O'Hara, atop the horse beside him, couldn't help but think how this army with no funds could even begin to form a new nation with no money.

After what seemed like awhile of marching, they saw the head of the French army, allies to the colonials. The ranks were stopped and Tavington and Watson watched as General O'Hara rode his horse up the French commander Count Rochambeau. He dismounted, walked over to the man, said a few words, then tried to give the surrender sword to the Frenchman.

"We are subordinate to the colonials," Rochambeau declared in French to O'Hara. He then gestured to where General George Washington, commander of the colonial army, stood.

William swallowed hard, yet held his head high as he watched O'Hara walk to General Washington. The redcoat brigadier general made apologies for the Earl's absence, then offered his sword to the commander. Washington, a tall, imposing looking man, gestured for the British general to surrender the weapon to the man who stood beside him, General Lincoln.

For a third time now, O'Hara had to move and stand before yet another enemy commander. If the redcoat brigadier was flustered by all the refusal, he certainly did not show it. He continued to hold his head high and speak and carry himself with grace and charm.

When Charles O'Hara stood in front of General Lincoln, he recognized his face. In an instant, he remembered that he was the general who had surrendered Charles Towne a year and a half ago when they had taken it. And now, he was accepting the capitulation of the British.

After that was done, Tavington and O'Hara sat atop their horses, watching as the ranks of British soldiers marched past them and surrendered their arms. Although a drummer boy beat a loud cadence, the clanking of the metal of the guns as they were laid down in a pile before the enemy seemed deafening to the proud redcoat commanders, with each clank driving a nail of shame into the proud generals.

When the last infantryman had laid down his musket, the British generals watched as the men were marched off to some distant prison camp. The breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, glad to at least to have that part of their disgrace over with. They soon turned their horses, and Generals Tavington and O'Hara led the small detachment of British officers back toward their encampment at Yorktown, where they would be held on detention until further notice.

-/-

The British camp just outside of Yorktown had turned into a smaller version of what it had been, having become the temporary home to all the redcoat officers. A couple of days after the surrender, they had been confined there, on a sort of house arrest until a decision had been made as to their fates. The officers had been told to keep in their own tents, but with a few bribes to the lower ranking colonials guarding the camp, they could move discreetly between each other's tents. Since this was so, it had already started a rumor mill as to what was to happen to the men.

It was late afternoon as General Tavington, escorted by a blue coated rebel, returned to his tent. Once in his tent, he counted to three, then peaked back outside the tent flap, watching the soldier he'd walked with only a minute ago strolling back out of the camp. Will stuck his head cautiously out of the canvas, looked both ways and saw no guards around. He then stole quietly from his tent, darting between the cloth huts for two rows, and arrived at the quarters of Colonel Tarleton.

After knocking on the pole, he entered. He looked at the three officers gathered within: Major George Hanger, Major Wilkins, and Tarleton. The three looked nervous and tired.

"What did you find out, Tav?" asked Banastre.

"The best I could get was news from one of the rebel officers," replied William, "and I had to pay a hefty price to get that!"

"What is it?" asked Hanger.

"We're to be moved to New York," he began, "and paroled when we get there. He doesn't yet know the terms of the parole."

"Alright," Wilkins said. "So, we're to be paroled, but we don't know for how long or the other details?"

"Correct," Tavington said.

"Why didn't you talk to Lord Cornwallis?" Tarleton asked.

"He and General O'Hara were having dinner with General Washington and his staff," answered William.

Banastre cocked his head to the side. "We are officers of esteem. Why haven't we been invited to dine with the colonials?"

"I personally don't care to dine with the bloody colonials," Tavington commented in disdain, "I hope they all burn in Hell."

"Except for the ones with money that our plantations need for business," Wilkins interjected sarcastically, yet meaning it.

William, although he shot James a sour look, he knew that his fellow officer and neighbor from home was right.

Tarleton, knowing the formalities of war and opposing armies, knew that it was customary for the victor to invite the defeated forces' officers to their tables. Usually, it was done by rank. The colonial colonels should have invited them to dine, but hadn't done so.

Ban was incensed that an invitation hadn't been extended to the cavalry officers, including former officer Tavington. "This had to have been an oversight. I saw the French officers near the back gate. I'm going to go ask them why only the generals have been invited to dinner."

Tavington, Hanger, and Wilkins followed a determined Ban out of his tent as he stormed toward the back of the temporary prison camp. They could tell that this was a huge insult to Ban, who had already been humiliated enough when the horse he was riding back into Yorktown on a couple of days ago, had been taken from him and he was forced to walk.

At the back of the camp, he walked up to a young looking, smartly dressed Frenchman, whom Ban knew to be the Marquis De Lafayette. He asked him if the oversight had been accidental. The Frenchman told him that he knew nothing of the dining arrangements and referred him to Colonel Laurens, one of Washington's aide-de-camps.

By now, Tarleton had worked himself up into a fury, and the other three officers were worried that he was going to get into trouble. They trailed behind the red haired colonel as he tore through the camp, back to the front gate. Once there, he asked to talk to Washington's adjutant. When he was told to go back to his tent, especially by a lower ranking colonial guard, he blew up. The usually fun loving colonel began yelling, demanding to see Colonel Laurens.

William, Jim, and Georgie were pulling on Banastre, trying to get him to come back with them to the tent, afraid of jeopardizing an already fragile parole agreement. Finally, Jim found that one of the gate guards was from South Carolina, near where the Wilkins' vineyard was located. Wilkins was able to talk the man, with a bit of a bribe, into bringing Colonel Laurens to the small group for conference.

The two colonels were introduced, and Banastre quickly launched into his interrogation with no further formalities.

"Colonel Laurens, pray tell me," he began, "was it an accidental oversight on the part of your leaders that His Majesty's cavalry officers weren't invited to dine at your table?"

"No, Colonel Tarleton, it was no accident at all," answered Laurens, "It was intentional I can assure you. It was meant as a reproof for certain cruelties practiced by the troops under yours and General Tavington's command in the campaigns in the Carolinas."

Banastre was livid. "What sir?" he scornfully rejoined, "It is for severities inseparable from war that you are pleased to term 'cruelties', that I and my fellow officers here are to be disgraced before junior officers?"

Laurens said nothing, letting the incensed British officer continue his tirade. "Sir, it is for a faithful discharge of our duty to King and country that we are to be humiliated in the eyes of three armies here?" Ban motioned back to the officers behind him, then pointing into Yorktown, meaning the British, the colonial, and the French armies convened there.

"Pardon me, Colonel," Laurens interjected politely, yet firmly and unfazed, "There are modes of discharging a soldier's duty, and where mercy has a share in the mode, it renders the duty more acceptable to both friends and foes." With that, he turned and headed back toward the main gate.

The officers stood there, stunned. Their sentiment echoed that of Tarleton's: that they discharged their duty faithfully, and that war had certain costs and casualties. The redcoat officers did not think that their actions during a time of war, would be held against them outside of it.

Tarleton, not ready to give up, ran after Laurens and caught him. He spun the man around to face him before he was restrained by a couple of colonial officers. Wilkins, who towered over both of them, convinced them that they could restrain him themselves. They let go as Ban's fellow officers started to drag him away.

"Colonel Laurens," Banastre yelled as he pointed toward Tavington, "This general's wife was raped unmercifully by your Colonel Burwell! What part of his duty was that and where was his mercy in discharging it?"

"That most assuredly, is a dirty lie spun by you damned redcoats," he answered.

"It's no lie," Tavington screamed, "She was violated more than once by him!"

"We're through here," the colonial officer stated.

With that, Laurens turned and began walking toward the gate again, not amused by the redcoat's accusations. Tarleton, defeated and humiliated, looked at his fellow officers. He could tell that they were all itching to say something more. He knew that Tavington and Wilkins were limited as to what more they could do because they had plantations here that did business with colonials, and they could not sacrifice their futures.

Instead, Major Hanger walked away from the group and cordially called Colonel Laurens. The man turned back around, happy not to have to argue anymore with Tarleton.

"Colonel Laurens," Hanger shouted, "I hope you and your officers fucking choke on your dinners. You have bloody well earned it!"

~/~

Author's note:

"Cased Colors" meant that the army's flag (s) could not be unfurled and wave proudly. They had to be cloaked or rolled up and bound on to the pole.

It is true that General O'Hara went to the surrender ceremony in Earl Cornwallis' stead. He did try to surrender to the French commander first, was directed to General Washington, then made to surrender to Lincoln, who had to surrender Charles Towne 18 months before to the British.

It is also true that Banastre Tarleton, due to what was deemed atrocities in his duty, was not invited to any post surrender dinners with the enemy. I read that it was considered hospitable for the victor to invite the defeated to dine with them. Tarleton took this as a huge insult and felt humiliation . The words here between him and Laurens are mostly historically correct as per the Tarleton biography, "The Green Dragoon" by Robert Bass as to what was said when Ban asked if it was an accidental oversight that he was not invited to dine.

Here I have Tarleton as being humiliated by having a horse he was riding being taken out from under him and he was made to walk. I have this happening as right after the surrender on his way back into Yorktown. I embellished that a bit for dramatic licence—I believe it actually happened afterwards, with Tarleton riding with some French officers who had invited him to dine with them. A local man recognized the horse as having been one that was confiscated from his master. He approached Tarleton and demanded the horse be returned right then. One of the French officers, rather than having Tarleton suffer the indignity of walking, unseated his orderly and let Tarleton ride on that horse.

I also have the British officers as being held temporarily on a sort of "house arrest" in the camp until they can be moved to New York and paroled. I don't think this was the case as in my readings it sounds like they were able to move freely about Yorktown after the surrender, so I did it for dramatic license again sort of leaving the men in the dark and having to rely on rumors, etc, and all that that surrounds war, surrender, confusion, etc.

I apologize for not using Major George Hanger, Banastre Tarleton's real life second in command, more in my stories and up to this point. He truly was a funny, eccentric character. I don't know why I haven't used him more—he would be even funnier than Banastre. He was quite handy with the ladies and kept a menagerie of exotic pets of which his favorite seemed to be his monkey.

A humorous note that I have to share with you all: If you read chapter 67, you will remember a lot of talk about (and the actions of certain officers) sex. My husband skimmed over the chapter and laughed, and due to the subject matter of the chapter, said that I should have called it "Encamped at Porktown" since the officers were talking about "porking" and spending their spare time "porking". Although we shared a huge laugh over it, I told him that the term "porking (an American contemporary slang term for, well, you know what)" was not historically correct for the era so I couldn't have used it nor could I have renamed the place!