Colonel Henry Middleton Rutledge told his son Archibald, “Do you know, that when he was born he was so small that he was put in a quart measure to be weighed, and that he almost got lost in it.” The Colonel, born in the house where the Swamp Fox once took refuge, was repeating Low Country lore about Francis Marion.
Francis Marion was indeed a very small man. He was also a man of contradictions. He had a reputation for humaneness, even kindness, yet he was a disciplinarian so strict that during his tenure as commander of the 2nd South Carolina Regiment an officer characterized him as “an ugly, cross, knock kneed, hook-nosed son of a bitch.” His personal habits were spartan. His favorite drink was said to be a mixture of vinegar and water. Within him combined a judicious mixture of caution and daring, so that he rarely slept in the same camp two nights running yet did not hesitate to attack when he was outnumbered.
Marion understood perfectly the function of a guerrilla leader. When his faithful subordinate Peter Horry (pronounced oo-ree) suggested building a redoubt to control an area, Marion explained: “The open field was our play, that the enemy knew better how to defend forts and entrenched places than we did, and that if we attempted it, we should fall into their hands.” He understood, too, the critical importance of mobility, which is why he took special pains to mount his men well and balked whenever General Nathanael Greene issued instructions to deliver horses to the Continental army. Superior mobility was one of the primary secrets of his success, which Lord Rawdon admitted as the reason why “we have never been able to force them to a decisive action.” Another reason was his finely tuned sense of military security. Sumter, as we have seen, could be cavalier about security. Marion never was; his caution was legendary. Obviously there was, too, in Francis Marion that quality of inspired leadership that men and women find hard to define but always recognize when they see it.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
An ugly, cross, knock kneed, hook-nosed son of a bitch
From The Road to Guilford Courthouse by John Buchanan. Page 181.
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