Tarleton at the Waxhaws
Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton carried the reputation as the most hated British officer in America. He earned much of his reputation by aggressive, slash-and-burn tactics that proved devastating to the Americans. His asymmetrical victories at Lenud’s Ferry and Monck’s Corner during the battle over Charleston were textbook cavalry operations that gutted any effort at an American response. More than aggressive competence, the question about Tarleton has always been whether he participated in atrocities against American soldiers, and this question draws us to the events at the Waxhaws on 29 May 1780.
The Waxhaws was an important part of the Battle of Cowpens. In The Battle of Cowpens, Reexamined, I made the point that Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee expressed the outrage of the Patriots, asserting the Waxhaws “produced the unanimous decision among the troops to revenge their murdered comrades whenever the blood-stained corps should give an opportunity.” As matters developed, the Battle of Cowpens was the next engagement in the southern war involving Continental soldiers. At Cowpens, the urge for revenge for the Waxhaws was palpable.
After the British victory at Charleston, there was one unit of Continentals remaining in the deep south. The commander, Lieutenant Colonel Abraham Buford, avoided the mass surrender of Continentals at Charleton, and was moving as quickly as he could for the relative safety of North Carolina. General Charles Cornwallis, the British theater commander in the south, sent Tarleton north with orders to stop Buford.
Tarleton flogged his men 105 miles in 54 hours to catch his quarry at the Waxhaws, a settled region on the border between North and South Carolina. Tarleton called on Buford to surrender, threatening dire consequences if he refused. But, refuse he did, and both sides lined for battle.
Buford had a small contingent of artillery. In one of a series of puzzling decisions, Buford ordered his artillery to keep moving northward with the baggage rather than stay and support the action against the British. Tarleton lined for battle 300 yards from Buford, well within artillery range. Had the artillery been present, it could have achieved results.
There were several eyewitness accounts of the engagement. Those by Buford and Tarleton gained prominence, but a few others also set out their recollections of the action. The outlines of the action are uncomplicated. After surrender was taken off the table, both sides prepared their lines. Tarleton attacked, cavalry in the lead. Buford gave a second puzzling order. The Americans were not to fire until the enemy was 10 yards away. Buford’s order made no sense, and has served as a pretext for people denying British culpability. The fault, they say, lay with Buford’s deficient order.
The American volley, at 10 yards’ distance, was too little, too late. The British attack devastated the American line. The Americans, realizing the battle was over, surrendered. The American accounts asserted a white flag was tendered to the British, which was refused rudely. Flag or no, in the parlance of the time, the Americans begged for “quarter,” meaning protection, but to no avail. Buford was blunt. He lost two-thirds of his men killed or wounded, “many of which were killed after they had lain down their arms.”
Skeptics of the Waxhaws point to the fact that whether someone accepts an atrocity occurred depends entirely on whether the author is a Patriot or a Loyalist. It is entirely true that there is a sharp divide in the literature, with authors lining up based on their affiliation. Contrary to the assertions of the skeptics, this fact does not weigh against the likelihood of an atrocity. Had the British wantonly killed Americans after they surrendered, one would expect the Americans to attack, outraged, and the British to disregard or minimize events, which is exactly what happened.
But, to avoid the Whig versus Tory aspect of the backwash, the British sources are entirely sufficient. Tarleton provided a good resource. Tarleton left remarkable casualty figures. He insisted his Legion killed 100 Americans and captured 200 more. Charles Stedman amplified the casualty numbers, adding that of the captured, 150 men were badly wounded, an inconvenient fact overlooked in Tarleton’s account. Buford commanded 380 men. Some were sent north with the artillery and baggage. Almost all the rest were killed or badly wounded, many of the latter too badly wounded to move.
The devastation on the American side spoke volumes. The British casualties were minimal, five killed and 15 wounded. The casualty figures spoke to problems, but, by themselves, did not prove an atrocity. Tarleton’s words were necessary to establish the latter.
Tarleton wrote that his horse was shot from under him, and his men feared he had been killed. He attributed the savagery of the attack to the idea that the cavalry believed their commander had been killed, and with this point his narrative reached another step toward admission of an atrocity. The cavalrymen, fearing the loss of Tarleton, “stimulated the soldiers to a vindictive asperity not easily restrained.” Tarleton, not squeamish, never backed away from the idea of a bloody disaster on the field. After his horse was shot, he was out of action until remounted, and in this hiatus, “slaughter was commenced.”
Tarleton freely admitted to a slaughter of the Americans in the fury of a vindictive asperity by the dragoons. One must keep in mind that Tarleton wrote his memoir in full knowledge of the accusations against him arising out of the Waxhaws. This account was his best opportunity for a defense. As such, it fell completely flat.
The unavoidable fact: he never denied the atrocity. This was an astounding gap in his narrative. He recounted savagery and slaughter, but knowing full well that his men had been accused of killing Americans after they surrendered, he never denied they did so.
Many of the tales of the Waxhaws have sidetracked into a discussion whether Tarleton ordered the atrocity, as if it made a difference if he ordered it or acquiesced in it. This kind of discussion is a pointless diversion. Tarleton, on the spot, if he did not order it, was in a position to stop it. This, ultimately, was the only vestige of a defense he offered. While unhorsed, he was out of action. By the time he remounted, “slaughter had commenced” while he had not been watching. In this light, there is no doubt an atrocity occurred. His denial, no denial at all, cemented the idea.
Even unhorsed, his personal responsibility was unavoidable. The commander is responsible for everything his unit does or fails to do. By order or acquiescence, Tarleton bore responsibility for the tragedy at the Waxhaws.
