New Yesterdays by Jim L Wright - HTML preview

Chapter 17

A cool breeze rustled the leaves as Tooantuh and his warriors took their places at the edge of the clearing. The hard blue sky, brightening with crimson and purple clouds as the sun crept up to the horizon promised a warm day. The outpost was quiet. Not even the sentries were visible. Most likely they were snoozing in the darkened corners. The bugler would be blowing reveille soon, under normal circumstances. Not this morning, though. The Cherokee would be waking the garrison and the nation this morning.

After long deliberations, the Seminole nation had agreed to join forces with the Cherokee to put a stop to the push for removal once and for all. Two forts along the way had been attacked and burnt to the ground. They had acquired three cannon, rifles and several hundred rounds of ammunition from those raids to add to the one the Yansa had brought back from Fort Armstrong. Two of the cannons were situated so as to fire directly at the gates and front portions of Fort Strother. The others were posted at the two sides, being careful to avoid the ammunition magazine.

The Indians, both men and War Women numbered just over 400; a force that should easily be able to overcome the 75 or so soldiers in the fort. Both the Cherokee and the Seminoles were well trained in the art of close in combat and they were sure the white soldiers would fall to them in short order. Tooantuh posted men at the tree line to have an unobstructed view of the fort. Their orders were simple. Make sure that no soldier escaped the fort to warn of their uprising.

Just minutes before the sun's edge cleared the tops of the trees, Tooantuh gave a sharp, whistling bird call. Within seconds all four cannons fired almost simultaneously at the fort. The two parts of the large front gate shattered under the cannonballs and fell like so many toothpicks to the ground. Shouts of alarm were heard all round the garrison as men leapt from their beds and grabbed their weapons. When the cannons fired, the warriors sprang from the trees and moved as one toward the destroyed front gates. By the time the soldiers began to pour from their barracks the fort was filled with Indians.

Within seconds the air was filled with the acrid smoke of gunfire and the hacking sound of hatchets meeting skulls. The soldiers quickly saw that the yard was too packed with sweating, fighting humans to effectively use their weapons. The risk of killing one of their own comrades was just too great. Knives and swords were drawn in an attempt to ward off the unrelenting attack of the Indians' knives and hatchets.

Colonel Nathan McClanahan and his executive, Major Horace Moore had burst from their quarters almost simultaneously and were shocked by the carnage already dealt the soldiers. Well over two-thirds of the soldiers already lay dead or dying on the ground. Many of the ones still standing were bloodied and weakening. McClanahan’s worst nightmare had materialized before his eyes. "Well, at least they won't be getting me in my sleep" he thought wryly. He had no illusions that this battle would be won by him and his men. The Colonel and his Executive strode into the thick of the battle. Before he could raise his blade, McClanahan felt the cold steel of a knife scrape against bone as it slid between two of his ribs. His lungs suddenly felt heavy and he couldn't seem to get enough air. His arm no longer had enough strength to raise his weapon. All at once, the searing hot pain in his side was matched by another in his chest. He knew without looking that his heart had been pierced. He looked about him in wonder, the noise of the battle seemed muffled now as his eyes began to blur. As the vision in his eyes dimmed, his mind’s eye took him far away to a quiet meadow. He was sharing a picnic lunch with Willie Mae, asking himself why he never had the courage to ask for her hand in marriage.

Major Moore ran toward the Colonel, screaming in a mix of anger and terror. Even as he neared McClanahan, he knew there was nothing to be done. He quickly dropped to one knee, saw a brilliant explosion of light less than one second before he felt excruciating pain at the top of his skull and then dropped, face down into the dirt.

Gawonii looked around himself in the sudden quiet. Not one white soldier was standing. His compatriots were walking among the bodies, finishing off those where were still in the process of dying. He was astonished to see the sun had risen above the fort walls. It seemed they had fired the cannon volley only minutes before. Judging from the sun's position, more than an hour had elapsed.

All told, the native people lost 15 warriors in the battle. In Tooantuh's mind, this was far better than he had hoped for. It gave him even more hope that they would finally succeed against the settlers.

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Similar stories emerged from three other forts that had been attacked at the same time. It was very encouraging to the Red Chiefs, but future battles would certainly not go so easily. The element of complete surprise was now quite possibly lost. From this day forward, every battle would be pitched and hard fought. A total of 71 warriors had been lost in the morning's battles but that balanced rather nicely against the 231 white soldiers who had been despatched.

In addition to the casualties the Indian forces inflicted on the settlers, enough arms and ammunition had been confiscated to outfit more than 1500 fighters. This put the natives on a more equal footing with their enemy. Rifles, pistols, swords, knives, cannons, and powder were taken from the four forts. They also cleaned out the larders, giving them enough rations to last for nearly two weeks, longer if they were able to bring down a few deer and small animals to supplement the looted foodstuffs.

After the fighting was finished, anything of use to the Indians was retrieved and the forts were burnt to the ground. There could be nothing left for the soldiers to readily reclaim and post new regiments.

Battles continued daily as the enormous force of Cherokee and Seminoles advanced northward. Village after village, town after town fell to them and were burnt to the ground. Casualties were light in some battles and quite heavy in others, but despite the increasing death toll, their warriors continued to fight valiantly. Being split into four contingents prevented the Americans predicting with any certainty where the next attack might occur.

Spartanburg, Columbia, Barnwell and countless other towns and villages fell before the Indians. Each battle site was left in utter desolation and smoldering ashes. Any armament or food available in the settlements was appropriated before burning. Crops in the fields were left for any forces that might follow to forage.

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The fiercely independent Scotch-Irish people around Spartanburg, South Carolina were no strangers to battle. More Revolutionary battles had been fought there than nearly any other place in the newly formed nation.

News of the arrival of a British fleet at Charleston in the summer of 1776 alarmed the local Cherokee who swept over the borders of the frontier in a turbulent onslaught. Hundreds of whites were killed before they could flee to the relative safety of the forts where counterattacks were planned.

Dozens of Cherokee villages were destroyed by the militia. Women and children were killed. Within a year the aggression was contained and a treaty was signed in which the Cherokee were forced to relinquish nearly all their lands in the Carolinas.

With the native population subdued, the colonists turned their aggression on the invading British armies. More than a dozen battles, culminating with the Battle of Cow Pens and the eventual British surrender at Yorktown were fought in and around Spartanburg.

During the peaceful years following the Revolution, Spartanburg transformed into a busy hub of industry. Railroads crisscrossed the county like the spokes of a giant wheel. Two textile mills made good use of the cotton riding on the rails. More of the cotton wended its way on over to Charleston for export to the European markets. Most residents though, continued to farm, keeping them out of the town proper.

The scattered population of Spartanburg presented an interesting challenge to the Red Chiefs. After much discussion around the fire, it was finally decided. Tooantuh stood and addressed the group.

“We will surround the area with our warriors, leaving twenty warriors near each farm. When the sun begins to brighten the eastern skies, the groups will attack the farmsteads in a surprise. We will take no prisoners! When the work is finished, you will ride toward the town.

We will ride toward the center, attacking from all sides. When the battle is finished, we will take any food or weapons. We will not burn this town to the ground as we did the others. When the battles are finally finished, this town will serve us well as we begin to make our way as a newly born nation.” The element of surprise and predawn attack will assure us of a complete victory!

Cheers all around greeted the Red Chief’s words. The mood throughout the massed warriors was jubilant, as if the battle had already been won. Given the ease with which the previous attacks had been accomplished, the mood was understandable. Tooantuh and some of the other chiefs weren’t as assured. The scattering of farms that needed to be attacked made the ultimate task seem more vulnerable. Too many things could go wrong with such a plan. There was nothing to do about it though, but hope the Creator would bless their efforts.

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