PIN : 085002–000

THE U.S. ARMY AND IRREGULAR 

WARFARE, 1775–2007

Selected Papers from the 2007 Conference of Army Historians

Edited by

Richard G. Davis

CENTER OF MILITARY HISTORY

UNITED STATES ARMY

WASHINGTON, D.C., 2008
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

First Printing

CMH Pub 70–111–1

Conference of Army Historians (16th : 2007)

The U.S. Army and irregular warfare, 1775–2007 : selected papers from 

the 2007 Conference of Army Historians / edited by Richard G. Davis.

p. cm.

1. Special forces (Military science)—United States—History—

Congresses. 2. Counterinsurgency—United States—History—Congresses. 

3. Guerrilla warfare—United States—History—Congresses. I. Davis, 

Richard G. II. Title. 

UA34.C66 2007

355.02’180973—dc22

2008026508
iii

Contents

 Page

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

The U.S. Army and Irregular Warfare, 1775–2007

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Part One—Non-American Counterinsurgency Operations

The Roar of Lions: The Asymmetric Campaigns of Muhammad,

Russell G. Rodgers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Southern (Dis)Comfort: British Phase IV Operations in South Carolina

and Georgia, May–September 1780, Steven J. Rauch. . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

When Freedom Wore a Red Coat: How Cornwallis’ 1781 Virginia

Campaign Threatened the Revolution in Virginia,

Gregory J. W. Urwin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

Learning the Good and the Bad: Canadian Exposure to British Small

War Doctrine in South Africa, 1900–1901, Chris Madsen. . . . . . . . . 89

Blindness and Contingencies: Italian Failure in Ethiopia (1936–1940),

Richard Carrier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency: Balancing and Integrating

Military and Civilian Efforts from Aceh to Uruzgan,

Thijs W. Brocades Zaalberg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

Part Two—Special Aspects of Irregular Warfare

The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army: From the

Mexican-American War to the War on Terrorism,

Frederic L. Borch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue: The Militias of

Kentucky, 1859–1861, John A. Boyd. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145

The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers: The Long-Term

Effects of John Hunt Morgan’s Raid on an Indiana Community,

Stephen I. Rockenbach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

Irregular Engineers: The Use of Indigenous Labor in the Rebuilding of 

Critical Infrastructure During the Korean War, 1950–1953,

Eric A. Sibul. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
iv

Part Three—U.S. Counterinsurgency Operations

The Victorio Campaign: Hunting Down an Elusive Enemy,

Kendall D. Gott. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman: James Van Fleet

and His Lessons Learned as Commander of the Joint United States 

Military Advisory and Planning Group During the Greek Civil War, 

1948–1949, Robert M. Mages. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195

Chasing a Chameleon: The U.S. Army Counterinsurgency Experience

in Korea, 1945–1952, Mark J. Reardon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213

Lessons Learned and Relearned: Gun Trucks on Route 19 in Vietnam,

Ted Ballard. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229

Some Observations on Americans Advising Indigenous Forces,

Robert D. Ramsey III. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

Contributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

Page
Foreword

Using the theme “The U.S. Army and Irregular Warfare, 1775–2007,” 

the 2007 Conference of Army Historians featured over sixty formal papers 

exploring the nature of unconventional warfare and its significance throughout 

history. The event also included several workshops and sessions on administrative issues of common concern across the Army historical community and much 

informal discussion and networking. From the opening of the conference to the 

final dinner, where U.S. Army Vice Chief of Staff General Richard A. Cody 

addressed the current operating environment and answered hard questions 

from the audience about the future, the conference informed participants 

about differing aspects of the type of warfare confronting the U.S. Army in 

the Global War on Terrorism today.

The fifteen papers selected for this publication are not only the best of 

those presented, but they also examine irregular warfare in a wide and diverse 

range of circumstances and eras. Together, they demonstrate how extremism 

was intimately connected to this type of warfare and how Americans have, 

at different times in their history, found themselves acting as insurgents, 

counterinsurgents, or both. The titles of the papers themselves reflect how 

often the U.S. Army has engaged in such irregular operations despite a formal 

focus on conventional warfare. Using imperial British and Italian examples, 

several presentations also underline how the ease of conquering lands is often 

no indication of the level of effort required to pacify them and integrate them 

into a larger whole.

Each paper provides useful insights to the reader, soldiers and historians 

alike. I hope that after you have finished with this collection you will continue 

to broaden your knowledge of military history by turning to the U.S. Army 

Center of Military History (CMH) Web site (http://www.history.army.mil/) and 

by examining the Center’s many publications and other features highlighting 

the 233-year history of our Army.

Washington, D.C. JEFFREY J. CLARKE

1 August 2008 Chief of Military History

The U.S. Army and Irregular Warfare

1775–2007

Introduction

In August 2007, the U.S. Army Center of Military History sponsored 

and hosted the Sixteenth Conference of Army Historians, a biennial history 

conference attended by members of the Army Historical Program, academics 

from leading colleges and universities, and international scholars from allied 

nations. This conference serves as a forum and professional development 

venue for Department of the Army civilian and uniformed historians and 

encourages institutional cohesion within the Army history community. It was a 

highly successful conference with greater attendance levels (197 attended and 

66 papers presented) than ever before. Even more important, the Conference 

of Army Historians is designed to meet the concerns of Army leaders by 

addressing the existing needs of the service. The 2007 conference proved no 

exception to this practice with its highly relevant topic of “The U.S. Army 

and Irregular Warfare, 1775–2007.”

Out of the many excellent papers presented at the conference, the Center 

selected fifteen of the best for publication. These papers fall into three 

categories: those detailing non-American counterinsurgency operations; 

those concerning special aspects of irregular warfare; and those analyzing 

U.S. counterinsurgency operations. This introduction seeks to weave these 

presentations into a more complete picture.

The six papers on non-American counterinsurgency operations cover a 

period of 1,300 years from the life of Muhammad, the Prophet of Islam, through 

the Dutch defeat by nationalist insurgents in 1948 in Indonesia. 

In “The Roar of the Lions: The Asymmetric Campaigns of Muhammad,” 

Russell G. Rodgers of U.S. Army Forces Command analyzes how Muhammad 

consistently employed tactics and methods outside the then-current conventions 

of his culture’s definition of warfare. Muhammad demonstrated how a small 

group with unifying ideology can triumph over a larger more sophisticated foe 

that lacked firm unifying principles. Rodgers notes that some of Muhammad’s 

enemies might not have even realized the danger Muhammad’s movement 

posed until it was too late. The author carefully abstains from generalizing 

the personal experiences of the Prophet, but one can not help but wonder how 

his ruthless use of assassination and mass executions may have sanctioned a 

continuing belief among his more militant adherents in the expendability of 

human life in pursuit of their cause. 

Two papers examined British operations in the southern colonies during 

the War of the American Revolution. “Southern (Dis)Comfort: British Phase 

IV Operations in South Carolina and Georgia, May–September 1780,” by 

U.S. Army Signal Branch historian, Maj. (Ret.) Steven J. Rauch, and “When 
 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Freedom Wore a Red Coat: How Cornwallis’ 1781 Virginia Campaign 

Threatened the Revolution in Virginia,” by Professor Gregory J. W. Urwin of 

Temple University, illuminate British efforts to return three former colonies 

to loyalty to the Crown. Rauch focuses on the South Carolina and Georgia 

border town of Augusta in a period when British conventional forces seemed 

invincible. However, as Rauch explains, the British adopted what we would 

call today an ineffective “Phase IV,” or posthostilities, program because they 

failed to understand how four years (1776–1780) of anti-British local Patriot 

rule had transformed the populace by “outing” and ousting the most vociferous 

Loyalists and converting much of the population to “passive acceptance” of 

Patriot dominance. Lulled by intelligence estimates that failed to identify the 

extent of divided loyalties in the South and that exaggerated the influence 

and support of refugee Loyalists, the British touched off a civil war in the 

backcountry by treating prominent Rebels too harshly and by permitting 

returning Loyalists to seek revenge rather than justice. The intense civil conflict, 

in turn, undermined the British ability to guarantee the personal security of 

supporters, which fatally compromised the Crown’s capacity to restore its rule 

in Georgia and South Carolina. British inability to match Phase IV planning 

and objectives with the reality on the ground compromised the political and 

strategic end state of the campaign.

Moving north, Urwin examines Lord Cornwallis’ operations in Virginia 

in 1781 with an unusual emphasis on the British relations with the servile 

African American population of the colony. The Crown offered blacks 

freedom for loyalty—a simple, compelling, and truly revolutionary concept 

in a colony with a 40 percent slave population. Virginia’s slaves flocked 

to their liberators, providing the British willing workers, unmatched local 

intelligence, and a resident population with a relatively high number of 

completely loyal citizens. Cornwallis took full advantage of this situation. 

He made Virginia howl, especially its pro-Patriot, slave-owning upper 

class. Throughout the spring of 1781, he conducted effective conventional 

operations against inferior American forces coupled with equally effective 

antipartisan, and antilocal government operations—all of which disrupted 

Patriot resistance efforts. Had he continued he might have eviscerated 

Virginia’s ability to contribute to the Patriot war effort or even brought it 

back to the Crown. However, in midsummer, Cornwallis received orders 

from the British commander-in-chief in America, Sir Henry Clinton, to retire 

to the coast and cease operations into the interior. Cornwallis began to dig 

entrenchments at Yorktown on 2 August.

Two takeaways from Urwin’s paper are that, first, there is a tipping point in 

the level of public support necessary to conduct successful counterinsurgency 

operations. The British lacked sufficient support in the Deep South but may, 

with the support of the slave population, have achieved it had they more 

diligently pursued offensive operations in Virginia. And, second, consistent 

follow-through is required for sustained effective counterinsurgency operations. 
INTRODUCTION 

Clinton’s decision to impose a static posture on Cornwallis’ forces lost not only 

the campaign but the entire war.

Chris Madsen, an associate professor, Department of Defence Studies, 

Canadian Forces College, delineates the involvement of the Canadian Army in 

the Anglo-Boer War of 1899–1901 in South Africa. His paper, “Learning the 

Good and the Bad: Canadian Exposure to British Small War Doctrine in South 

Africa, 1900–1901,” offers some useful insights about the counterinsurgent 

operations of a small, all-volunteer component of a combined British imperial 

force. The Canadians, under overall British direction, fought well, but normal 

attrition and wastage, coupled with a shortage of replacements, constantly 

reduced their capabilities. By 1901, the Canadian government withdrew its 

forces.

Madsen noted two items valuable to the study of counterinsurgency. At 

the end of conventional operations, the senior British leaders in South Africa 

completely failed to realize that they even faced an on-going insurgent threat. 

Thus, their initial reactions to continued Boer raids and actions were slow and 

ad hoc. This inadequate response allowed the insurgents and their supporters 

(the great bulk of the Boer civilians) to organize for further action and to gain 

confidence. Next, the British reacted to the insurgents by imposing increasingly 

brutal and repressive pressure on the Boer civilians, until they had forced most 

of them into defended enclaves the British referred to as concentration camps, 

where 15 percent of the total Boer population died. Thanks to overwhelming 

numbers (450,000 soldiers versus 185,000 Boer men, women, and children) not 

likely to be repeated in any current counterinsurgency, the British succeeded 

in ending the insurgency. British counterinsurgency tactics in the Boer War 

represented an extreme case of separating the insurgents from the support 

they needed to survive.

Richard Carrier, a senior lecturer in international history and the history 

of war, Royal Military College of Canada, and Thijs W. Brocades Zaalberg 

of the Netherlands Institute for Military History supply two descriptions of 

failed colonial counterinsurgent campaigns. Carrier’s paper, “Blindness and 

Contingencies: Italian Failure in Ethiopia (1936–1940),” analyzes the Italians 

conquest of Ethiopia and their postwar actions. Carrier notes that after the 

Italians had occupied the capital and approximately one-quarter of the country 

their senior leadership, including Benito Mussolini, assumed that the conflict 

was over. Mussolini and his soldiers had conducted no prior Phase IV planning 

or, indeed, given any thought to postwar counterinsurgency operations or what 

policies to apply to the 28 million additional inhabitants of their new empire. 

Mussolini decreed that the Italians would rule the country directly, without 

sharing any power with natives. This decision alienated the local elites, not all 

of whom had supported the previous regime. It ensured that important local 

governmental and administrative decisions would be made by officials with a 

limited knowledge of conditions and culture. The attempted assassination of 

the Italian viceroy in February 1937 prompted the occupiers to begin to purge 
 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the surviving Ethiopian elites. All the while, the Italians reduced their overall 

force levels and substituted native for European manpower. They also imposed 

a policy of strict racial segregation between the conquerors and the conquered. 

In late 1937, they appeared to change tactics by selecting a new viceroy, the 

Duke of Aosta, and instructing him to pacify the country with more humane 

methods. However, no sooner had the duke issued orders restraining his forces 

than the newly appointed commander of the Italian armed forces in Ethiopia, 

General Hugo Cavallero, launched a series of campaigns into unoccupied 

territory. Not until he left, in May 1939, did the duke have a free hand to use 

the carrot as well as the stick. He made little progress before World War II 

reversed the conquest.

The Italian experience in Ethiopia showed the importance of producing 

thoughtful and accurate Phase IV planning. It may also demonstrate that, 

unless ethnic cleansing is the goal, overly violent and brutal counterinsurgent 

tactics are self-defeating, especially when the occupying force does not have 

the strength to control the country. Also, if the occupiers lack sufficient force, 

adoption of policies that refuse to share any power with native elites and treats 

all natives as racial inferiors makes little sense. If one cannot either remove or 

overawe the native populace with force, then one has no choice but to adopt 

a policy with some accommodation.

In “The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency: Balancing and Integrating 

Military and Civilian Efforts from Aceh to Uruzgan,” Zaalberg looks at current 

Dutch counterinsurgency tactics, based on nonkinetic options, such as winning 

the hearts and minds of the populace, rather than killing insurgents, and asks 

if the current Dutch method continued practices learned in the past. He then 

analyzes two Dutch colonial campaigns in the Netherlands East Indies, now 

known as Indonesia: the pacification of Aceh Province, 1873–1910, a success, 

and the Dutch attempt to reestablish their colony after the end of World War 

II, 1945–1949, a failure. In Aceh, the Dutch for decades employed heavy roadbound retaliatory columns to sweep the province. These columns targeted the 

populace. At the turn of the century, a new commander pacified the province. 

He worked closely with cultural experts, resorted to more flexible tactics to 

include smaller columns, improved native-manned special forces–type units, 

and separated the population from the insurgents. In the post–World War II 

campaign, the Dutch tried to fight a conventional war with a force that was 

beyond their means and, yet, still too small for the task at hand. Zaalberg 

concludes that the Dutch Army’s current counterinsurgency methods do not 

follow past practice. As Zaalberg demonstrated, armed force can selectively 

modify tradition in response to new problems.

Four papers deal with unusual aspects of warfare. In “The History of 

Military Commissions in the U.S. Army: From the Mexican-American War to 

the War on Terrorism,” Frederic L. Borch, a historian with The Army Judge 

Advocate General’s Legal Center and School, examines the Army’s 160-year 

experience with military commissions, a specialized type of Army judicial 
INTRODUCTION 

proceeding. The Army established its first military commissions in 1847 at 

the order of Winfield Scott, commanding general of the Army. General Scott 

created these courts to close a loophole in the then-operative Army Articles 

of War of 1806, which did not provide for the punishment of civil crimes 

perpetrated by U.S. soldiers. This was no problem on U.S. soil, where an 

offender could be handed over to a functioning U.S. civil court, but, in enemy 

or occupied territory, the Army itself, as General Scott recognized, needed a 

way to try a soldier or contractor for civil crimes. By the end of the Mexican 

War, the commissions extended their authority to try Mexicans for offenses 

against the rules of war. The commissions used military laws of evidence, 

which were and are far more permissive than those of U.S. civil courts.

After a detailed history of military commissions from the American 

Civil War through World War II, Borch addressed President George W. 

Bush’s revival of military commissions to judge terrorists. The president 

strictly limited the commission’s jurisdiction to non-U.S. citizens and only 

for terrorist-related offenses that “threaten to cause, or have as their aim to 

cause, injury to . . . the United States.” In 2006, Congress passed the Military 

Commissions Act, which defined the commissions and their procedures and 

allowed evidence produced by hearsay and torture. Borch concludes by noting 

that the future of military commissions “is very much in doubt.” This paper is 

necessary reading for all citizens in that it presents essential facts concerning 

these unique judicial institutions. Whether one approves or disapproves of 

military commissions, this paper gives the reader a basis of knowledge to 

develop an informed argument.

A second specialized paper, “Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and 

Intrigue: The Militias of Kentucky, 1859–1861,” from the command historian 

of the 81st Regional Readiness Command, Lt. Col. John A. Boyd, analyzes 

the role of the Kentucky state militia in the beginning months of the American 

Civil War. In 1860, the state militia, designated the Kentucky State Guard 

(KSG), constituted the armed force available to the state government during 

the early period of the Civil War in which Kentucky had to decide to remain in 

the Union or side with the breakaway Confederate states. The mere presence 

of the state guard posed a threat to the pro-Unionists, who controlled the 

Kentucky legislature, However, the position of the militia became untenable 

when President Lincoln authorized the clandestine shipment of small arms 

to private Union militias, which broke the KSG’s military dominance in the 

state. The new equilibrium emboldened the legislature, which cut off funds to 

the Kentucky State Guard and required all of its members to take an oath of 

loyalty to the Union. With the breakup of the state guard, Kentucky remained 

in the Union. Boyd concludes that the main contributions of the Kentucky 

State Guard were that it kept the state neutral for an extended period, that it 

inadvertently admitted anti-Union hotheads into its ranks rather than having 

them form a more active party of their own, and that the peace that it enforced 

allowed the partisans of each party to divide peaceably. He might have added 
 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

that the restraint of the KSG’s leaders and their refusal to resort to brutality 

and strong-arm tactics allowed for a peaceful settlement of the question of 

Kentucky’s relationship with the Union. Most modern states faced with civil 

war were not so blessed.

In “The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers: The Long-Term 

Effects of John Hunt Morgan’s Raid on an Indiana Community,” Stephen I. 

Rockenbach, an assistant professor of history at Virginia State University, 

looks at the aftereffects of Morgan’s raid on the local perceptions of the 

Indiana and Kentucky populace on each side of the Ohio River, especially 

Meade County, Kentucky, and Harrison County, Indiana. In July 1863, 

Confederate Brig. Gen. John Hunt Morgan, a former company commander 

in the Kentucky State Guard, crossed the Ohio River into Indiana, and, 

though his raid caused some immediate destruction and disruption, he was 

soon trapped and forced to surrender his force. Although the raid had little 

military value, Rockenbach contends that it had lasting political effects on 

both sides of the river. In Indiana, the citizenry lost faith in the effectiveness 

of their military and their state and national governments. They also almost 

ceased their active support for Unionists south of the river. In Kentucky, 

Morgan’s raid emboldened Confederate sympathizers, who emerged to 

take local political control and elect pro-southern officials to all levels of 

government before and after the end of the Civil War. Rockenbach’s case 

study demonstrates how even a single raid or instance of violence has 

long-lasting consequences. It suggests that further research is needed on 

the effect of repeated violence and brutality on a population. Violence, like 

many other actions, has a point of diminishing returns. Consequently, this 

paper implies that insurgents may prefer to spread violent actions widely 

but thinly over a region than to concentrate such activities in a few locales. 

And, if, as seems intuitive, that widely spread insurgent violence is, up to a 

point, more efficient and possibly more effective than concentrated insurgent 

violence, what options should those directing the counterinsurgency employ 

to defeat this activity, especially if they do not possess an overwhelming 

advantage of forces?

In the fourth specialized paper, “Irregular Engineers: The Use of 

Indigenous Labor in the Rebuilding of Critical Infrastructure During the 

Korean War, 1950–1953,” Eric A. Sibul, an assistant professor of defense 

studies at Baltic Defense College, Tartu, Estonia, focuses on the use of local 

Korean labor in keeping the Korean railroad system operating during the 

war. Railroads were and are the most efficient method of shipping freight for 

both military and civilian uses. In Korea, the rail system was the backbone, 

or key infrastructure, sustaining both United Nations military operations and 

the civilian economy. During the war, the U.S. Eighth Army, working closely 

with the Korean National Railroad, the Korean state agency that owned and 

operated the rail system, employed thousands of Koreans as laborers and 

many others as engineers and supervisors. As Sibul explains, this scheme 
INTRODUCTION 

benefited both the Koreans and the Eighth Army. It may not have made the 

locals supporters of their government or its allies, but it kept them productive 

and out of trouble. Reconstruction of the railroad also gave the population 

a vested interest in preserving their work, if not their state. The cash the 

workers earned and the material purchased from the local suppliers turned 

over several times throughout the Koreans’ war damaged economy, indirectly 

sustaining thousands more. For the Americans, the cheap, productive, and 

highly cooperative laborers and the surprisingly efficient engineering, enabled 

them to maintain their operations at a minimum cost in dollars and personnel. 

Both sides gained. Sibul’s paper provides an excellent case study of an aspect 

of counterinsurgency that is somewhat neglected—the necessity of keeping 

the civilian population gainfully employed and the local economy liquid and 

sustained. A man with a shovel in his hand repairing a road is not a man sitting 

at home with no income and tempted to pick up an AK47 and fire a few shots 

at the occupiers or their supporters in return for insurrectionist dollars. It would 

follow from this, although Sibul does not explicitly state it, that the occupier 

should also ensure that the employment of native labor is seen by the populace 

as voluntary and fairly compensated. Forced or slave labor would be entirely 

counterproductive. Sibul also noted a particular American flaw in this aspect 

of counterinsurgency. American engineers were so wedded to machine-driven, 

material solutions that they failed to appreciate the possibilities of mass handlabor to accomplish the same tasks. Phase IV planners would do well to heed 

the insights offered by Sibul and emphasize large-scale employment of native 

labor and associated professionals as soon as possible during an occupation 

period. The results might even generate an unexpected fount of goodwill for 

the occupier-counterinsurgent.

The five remaining papers examine U.S. Army counterinsurgency operations. In “The Victorio Campaign: Hunting Down an Elusive Enemy,” Kendall 

D. Gott of the U.S. Army Combat Studies Institute analyzes a U.S. Army 

counterinsurgency operation against a band of Apaches in 1879–1880. As Gott 

notes, Victorio and his followers had no of chance of ultimate victory. Only 

the unmatched hardiness of his warriors, their light logistics requirements, and 

their intimate knowledge of the land allowed them to survive as long as they 

did. Consequently, the measure of the Army’s success in this campaign was not 

its final expulsion of Victorio into Mexico, but the length of time it took and 

the expenditure of resources required to achieve its end. Gott finds three key 

elements to the Army’s eventual triumph. First and foremost was the Army’s 

use of Native Americans as scouts. These scouts provided highly accurate 

intelligence concerning Victorio’s location and his intentions. The scouts also 

tended to negate the Indians’ advantage of knowing the terrain. Second, the U.S. 

commander, Col. Benjamin Grierson, adopted flexible tactics to fit the situation. 

Instead of launching ineffective offensive sweeps through the countryside, he 

concentrated on Victorio’s logistical weakness, water. The colonel placed guard 

forces at all water sources, denying them to this enemy. Finally, Grierson kept up 
 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

a determined and patient pursuit of Victorio. The pursuit, while costly in horses 

and supplies and time consuming in the face of an exasperated public and press, 

ultimately wore Victorio’s band down to the point where they retreated into 

Mexico. From this Gott draws three lessons applicable to current operations: 

“commanders must understand the enemy’s methods of operation and exploit his 

weaknesses,” and “commanders and staffs must also look beyond their formal 

training in devising flexible tactics and strategy, and in preparing their units for 

sustained operations that [could] last for months.”

Given Gott’s analysis, one might also observe that counterinsurgent forces 

should actively recruit local nationals, if possible from tribes or factions 

opposed to the insurgents, to aid in intelligence gathering, supply cultural 

information on enemy tactics and intentions, and serve as scouts or guides. 

In the past, the U.S. Army put Indian and Philippine scouts to good use. 

Perhaps “Iraqi scouts” assigned to regular units, not just to Special Forces, 

could prove useful in the war with Iraq. Repugnant as it may be to soldiers 

to use “collaborationists” and as anxious as the United States is to build a 

self-sustaining Iraqi Army, it may be a sensible tactic to have some small units 

of Iraqis subsumed into the U.S. Army itself. 

The remaining four papers cover operations in the first thirty years of the 

Cold War, from the Greek Civil War through the war in Vietnam. Robert M. 

Mages of the Military History Institute, U.S. Army Heritage and Education 

Center, looks at the beginning of the period in his paper, “Without the Need 

of a Single American Rifleman: James Van Fleet and His Lessons Learned 

as Commander of the Joint United States Military Advisory and Planning 

Group During the Greek Civil War, 1948–1949.” In the late 1940s, the 

civil war between the Greek royal government and the Greek Communist 

Party threatened to complete Soviet control of the Balkan Peninsula, to put 

Turkey into a two-front situation, and to give the Soviets open access to the 

Mediterranean Sea. When the British announced that they could no longer 

afford to support the Greek royal government in 1947, the Americans took 

their place. In early 1948, U.S. Army Lt. Gen. James Van Fleet became head 

of the Joint U.S. Military Advisory and Planning Group, which directed U.S. 

assistance to the Greek Army. After disappointing campaigns in 1948 revealed 

grave operational shortcomings, Van Fleet used the winter of 1948–1949 to 

more completely train the Greek Army in the American image. In 1949, the 

Greek Army smashed the insurgents and ended their threat to the government. 

Van Fleet attributed this victory to four basic principles: work with and support 

elements in the indigenous armed forces and government that share American 

goals and objectives; demand accountability; build the indigenous army 

according to the requirements of the conflict; and remember that the war must 

be waged and won by the indigenous army and the government it defends.

Van Fleet had done well in reasonably favorable circumstances. He built 

on the foundation of an already established state and an existing Army, both 

of which had a measure of legitimacy and support from the Greek people.
INTRODUCTION 

In “Chasing a Chameleon: The U.S. Army Counterinsurgency Experience 

in Korea, 1945–1952,” Lt. Col. (Ret.) Mark J. Reardon of the U.S. Army 

Center of Military History dissects a much less favorable scenario that faced 

the U.S. Army in South Korea. During the period covered by this study, the 

political situation and the nature of the insurgency underwent three major 

changes. From September 1945 through May 1948, the United States occupied 

South Korea and ruled it through a military government. At this time, the 

U.S. Army organized and recruited the Korean National Police and Korean 

Constabulary (which became the Korean Army) to maintain order and suppress 

opponents. The second period, 1948–1950, began with the founding, on 15 

August 1948, of the Republic of Korea (ROK). After some initial difficulties, 

the republic seemed to be gaining the upper hand over the local southern 

insurgents. This prompted the North Korean regime to send increased aid and 

manpower into the South in hopes of overthrowing the republic. During this 

period, the U.S. Army greatly reduced the number of advisers to the National 

Police while raising the total number of advisers to the ROK Army from 100 

to 248. By 1949, using brutal and violent tactics, the National Police and 

the ROK Army suppressed the northern-backed insurgents. This, in turn, 

convinced the northern leadership that only a full-scale military invasion could 

overthrow the republic. That invasion, in June 1950, touched off the Korean 

War and led to the third period studied by Reardon, the wartime insurgency 

of 1950–1952. In early and mid-1951, while Van Fleet, now the commander 

of Eighth Army, rebuilt, expanded, and trained the Korean Army, American 

units conducted division-size counterinsurgency operations. Beginning in late 

1951, the National Police and ROK Army units, with U.S. advisers and U.S. 

air and logistical support, conducted successful division- and even corps-size 

counterinsurgency operations behind the United Nations front lines. Reardon 

concludes that the example offered by Korea serves to alert U.S. commanders 

that they must be prepared to assume a counterinsurgency role in the absence 

of combat-effective indigenous military forces. His paper further demonstrates 

that the nature of both the insurgency and the counterinsurgency will evolve, 

sometimes radically, over time. Consequently, tactics and assessments must 

be flexible and responsive—a lesson the U.S. Army learned well in operations 

in Afghanistan and Iraq in 2001–2007.

In “Lessons Learned and Relearned: Gun Trucks on Route 19 in Vietnam,” 

Ted Ballard, a retired historian from the U.S. Army Center of Military History, 

narrowly focuses on the operations of the 54th Transportation Battalion along 

the 100-mile-long Route 19 in the Central Highlands of Vietnam, from the port 

of Qui Nhon to the city of Pleiku, with a mission of supplying transportation 

to the II Corps Tactical Zone. He further concentrates on events in mid- and 

late 1967 that led members of affected transportation units to develop the “gun 

truck,” a heavily armed and armored five-ton truck designed to act as a convoy 

defender to drive off attacking insurgents. The U.S. truck convoys needed 

their own self-defense capabilities along isolated patches of the highway that 
10 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

could not receive immediate support from American tactical units or when 

those units were unavailable. Ballard demonstrates how tactics on both sides 

adjusted to each others’ responses. The gun truck proved effective for the 

remainder of the war. And, as the title of his paper suggests. Ballard went on 

to note that the Army never institutionalized this experience and soon lost the 

memory of the gun truck’s utility in unescorted convoy operations in hostile 

territory. In Iraq, the Army repeated this experience and came up with the 

same expedient, aided only at the end of the process by the “rediscovery” of 

a Vietnam-era gun truck, nicknamed the “Eve of Destruction,” at the Army 

Transportation Museum at Fort Lee, Virginia.

Although Ballard presents an informative paper about ad hoc innovation in 

the service, one cannot help but wonder about the aspects of counterinsurgency 

he did not touch on, undoubtedly because of his decision to focus so closely 

on his subject unit. He never identifies the enemy; were they Viet Cong local 

insurgents or North Vietnamese regulars, and what were their unit designations? Likewise, Ballard made no mention of the Vietnamese population on 

either side of the road. Did the insurgents swim in this population? We have 

no clue. Perhaps, Ballard has fallen victim to the typical American fascination 

with equipment. Not once does he speak of any attempt of the transportation 

units to interact with the roadside population. If this is so, it serves as an object 

lesson in how not to conduct insurgency operations. Ignoring the locals, except 

to level their fields to expand the open areas on both sides of the road, is not 

a viable option.

In the final paper of this volume, “Some Observations on Americans 

Advising Indigenous Forces,” Robert D. Ramsey III of the U.S. Army Combat 

Studies Institute summarizes the U.S. Army’s advisory efforts in the Korean 

War, 1950–1953, the war in Vietnam, 1961–1973, and the civil war in El 

Salvador in the 1980s. In Korea, the number of American advisers increased 

more than elevenfold from approximately 250 in the beginning to 2,861 in the 

end. This mirrored the increase in the size of the ROK Army itself. In Vietnam, 

at the height of the advisory effort, over 14,000 U.S. Army advisers (seven 

division equivalents of officers and noncommissioned officers) served with the 

Army of the Republic of Vietnam and with pacification efforts. In El Salvador, 

the U.S. Congress limited the advisory effort officially to 55, and they advised 

a force of only a few thousand soldiers in a handful of brigades as opposed to 

some twenty divisions in the other conflicts. Ramsey concentrated on the (often 

depressing) similarities between the three efforts. The average U.S. adviser did 

not have even a limited understanding of the local language (apparently, the 

U.S. Army even had trouble fielding Spanish-speaking officers in El Salvador) 

or culture. This led to an overreliance on translators for communication. Lack 

of cultural awareness also meant that advisers, on too many occasions, ignored 

indigenous practice and experience and, instead, advocated American methods 

and solutions. Only in Vietnam did the Army give its advisers some measure 

of advance training: a six-week Military Assistance Training Advisor course. 
INTRODUCTION 11

In the other conflicts, if a soldier was branch qualified (had a basic knowledge 

of his Army specialty), he was generally accepted as an adviser and provided 

little or no additional training. By design, an adviser was intended to be one 

rank below his local-nation counterpart, but as the conflict continued the 

American adviser was often two or more ranks junior. Unlike their host-nation 

equals, the advisers served relatively short tours. In practice all this meant 

that the local indigenous commander, who had a good deal more on his plate 

than just dealing with his advisers, was confronted with a stream of cock-sure 

young Americans who knew little of his culture or language and who wanted 

to be his “friend” and to tell him how to fight like an American. In conclusion, 

Ramsey observed, 

First, it is a difficult job. Working effectively with indigenous forces may be 

the most difficult military task. Second, not everyone can do advisory duty 

well. Advisers should be carefully screened and selected. Third, advisers 

should receive in-depth training about the host nation, its history, its culture, 

and its language. Without such training, situational awareness is almost 

impossible. Fourth, adviser training should focus on advisory duties and 

harnessing host-nation institutions, organizations, procedures, capabilities, 

and limitations. It should not focus on U.S. solutions to host-nation problems. 

Fifth, longer, repetitive tours by specially selected and well-trained advisers 

enhance the development of rapport with host-nation counterparts. Lastly, 

no matter how capable field advisers are, their success depends upon the 

support structure established between the host nation and their U.S. chain 

of command.

These are useful insights, but ones likely to be ignored by the bureaucratic 

processes of the modern U.S. Army. In particular, the personnel system 

discourages long-term or repeat assignments to the same duties, while the 

Army itself cannot afford to parcel out specialized intense training to large 

numbers of soldiers on the chance that they might have to serve as advisers 

in unforeseen countries at some undetermined future dates. In 2000, could 

the Army have anticipated needing (and pooling in advance) several hundred 

advisers for Afghanistan (not to mention thousands of advisers for Iraq)?

Finally, one must ask what is the measurement of success for an advisory 

effort? Is it, at a minimum, the creation of a competent local fighting force that 

can effectively defend its state from internal insurgencies and, with assistance 

from allies (the United States), repel any foreign invader? In Greece and Korea, 

U.S. advisers met that definition, although they also left behind armies that 

eventually suppressed the governments they were supposed to defend and ruled 

autocratically in their stead. Both these forces also continued to receive U.S. 

weapons and military aid for a considerable period after the end of hostilities. 

In Vietnam, the advisers helped to produce a force that could fight with U.S. 

assistance and support, but not without it. In El Salvador, the U.S. advisers 

helped to field a force that successfully defended the established government 
12 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

and faced no external threat but created a force that was also guilty, along the 

way, of some serious civil rights abuses. 

The selected papers of the 2007 Conference of Army Historians reflect 

the diversity of the contributors and the complexity of the subject—irregular 

warfare. No two of them are directly comparable and no two of them address 

the same subject. Yet, taken as a whole, they offer the reader insight into the 

unique circumstances of each counterinsurgency examined. If there is one 

lesson to take from this collection, it is that the leadership of a counterinsurgency operation or program must have an accurate understanding of both the 

weaknesses and strengths of the enemy and of the expectations and needs of 

the populace in order to stand a chance of success.
Part One

Non-American Counterinsurgency Operations

The Roar of Lions: The Asymmetric Campaigns 

of Muhammad

Russell G. Rodgers

You loathed Medina when you visited it, and met roaring lions there.

—Hassan bin Thabit, Muhammad’s poet.

Quoted in Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 489.

One of the problems when examining asymmetric warfare is defining it. 

While definitions abound, few cut to the chase of what such warfare truly is. The 

key problem confronting the definitions is that it often confuses technological 

change with asymmetric warfare, failing to note that such warfare has existed 

since the dawn of history. While technology is ever changing, the techniques 

of asymmetric warfare are ancient. With that in mind, what is required to fight 

in such an environment is not a new paradigm, but a paradigm digression; that 

is, an application of what worked from the past. To understand this, one must 

first know the past, especially of the enemy, and how he fought an asymmetric 

campaign. Even more telling is how his opponents failed to defeat him.

The Prophet Muhammad’s campaigns in western Arabia require some 

background information to understand his objectives and why he chose the tactics 

he did to achieve them. Arabia in the sixth and seventh centuries developed 

largely in the shadows of two massive empires: the Byzantine to the northwest 

and the Persian, known at that time as the Sassanid, to the northeast. Byzantium 

was essentially a Christian empire while the Sassanid was Zoroastrian, or what 

early Islam and Christianity would call pagan. These two empires struggled 

for control of the Fertile Crescent, the land from Palestine to Mesopotamia, 

in an effort to dominate trade with the east. Byzantine merchants plying these 

trade routes grew weary of the high tariffs imposed by the Sassanid governors 

and sought alternate routes, which they found in the desert of Arabia.1 Such 

trade routes transformed Makkah, which had once been a minor village with a 

watering site, into a thriving merchant and religious community that dominated 

the region. 

Therefore, control of Makkah became increasingly important from the 

third through the fifth centuries. Several tribes jockeyed to control its growing 

1 W. Montgomery Watt, Muhammad at Mecca (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 

2004), pp. 11–12.
16 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

wealth and importance, with the tribe of the Quraysh finally gaining the upper 

hand. Qusayy, called the King of the Quraysh, pulled the reins of power into 

the hands of his small elite around 400 AD. Having done so, the Quraysh so 

dominated economic and social life that early Islamic historians called his rule 

a “religious law.”2 In this context it is important to understand that in ancient 

Arabic the word for religion is the same for obedience.

3

 Thus, religion for the 

Arabic world was much different than what many in the West today would 

think of it. In their world it meant total obedience and submission in all areas 

of life, and, under the early Quraysh, this meant obedience to Qusayy and his 

close associates. Along with this came the increasingly important focus of 

religious ideals centered on the Ka’bah, an ancient cubed structure that was 

the locus of worship for not only Makkans, but tribes from the surrounding 

area as well.

As Makkah grew and prospered, significant changes began to impact the 

rule of the Quraysh. First, there was a growing level of division within the 

tribe itself. Over a 100-year period, a ruling elite developed within the Quraysh 

centered on specific descendents of Qusayy, specifically the Abdul Dar clan. 

When Qusayy died, he delegated the five principal offices of Makkah to his 

eldest son, and these offices controlled the political, economic, and social 

life of the town. Of these five offices, the most important was rifahdah. This 

involved providing food to religious pilgrims who arrived at Makkah for the 

annual hajj, an event gaining increasing importance parallel to Makkah’s 

rise in mercantile wealth. This, in turn, required the imposition of a property 

tax on the rest of the Quraysh to defray the expenses. While there were other 

taxes in Makkah, the rifahdah was the most important, being the lion’s share 

of tax revenue.4 Whoever controlled this, manipulated welfare largess and, 

ultimately, the political life of Makkah and the surrounding area. Control of 

these resources led to the development of a princely class that could control 

the town mala, or council, and determine law and policy.

The second involved the rising tide of what we would today call 

democracy. This developed because of the rising level of wealth among 

specific merchants, and not just merchants of the inner ruling elite. Within 

early Arabic societies, the tribe was the all-important social and legal body. 

Tribal chieftains, or shaykhs, steered the life of their subtribes, or clans. They 

offered direction as well as legal guidance and, more importantly, protection, 

2 Muhammad Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, trans. A. Guillaume (Oxford, UK: 

Oxford University Press, 2004), p. 53; Abu Ja’far Muhammad bin Jarir al-Tabari, The History 

of al-Tabari, vol. 6, Muhammad at Mecca, trans. W. Montgomery Watt and M. V. McDonald 

(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988), p. 1098. After making specific references 

to separate volumes of al-Tabari’s history, page numbers organized to the original Arabic and 

included in the translations will be used, rather than references to separate volumes. 3 Abdul Mannan ‘Omar, Dictionary of the Holy Qur’an (Hochessin, Del.: NOOR 

Foundation-International, 2005), p. 185. The word, pronounced deen, is hard to translate as it 

has numerous shades of meaning, underscoring the difficulties of classical Arabic. 4 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 55.
The Roar of Lions 17

thus bringing stability to the region. As members of the Quraysh engaged in 

trading enterprises between Byzantium and Sassanid, a new class began to 

emerge in the area around Makkah—the moneyed middle class. A propertied 

middle class was concurrently developing in other parts of Arabia where some 

tribes began to settle down to a profit-based agriculture. But a moneyed middle 

class was different. Those that grew wealthy in liquid assets began to assert 

a significant degree of autonomy over their tribal shaykhs, thus threatening 

the latter’s authority.5

Connected to this new middle class was a rising tide of religious democracy. 

Tribes had their gods, represented in idols, but now each clan and family began 

to select their own gods on which to base their clan’s history, stability, and 

power. These idols, 360 in all, matched the days of the lunar calendar with the 

addition of a few extras that were considered higher deities.6 While it would 

be tempting to compare this to a western pantheon, such would be in error 

as most of these gods were considered equals. Only five stood out above the 

rest: al-Uzza, al-Lat, Manat, Hubal, and Allah. While Hubal was considered 

by some to be the highest of the Ka’bah, it was by Allah that people prior to 

Muhammad’s day made their oaths while standing next to the image of Hubal, 

thereby indicating Allah’s superior status.7 Because the various other gods were 

equals, each clan within the Quraysh, as well as the outlying tribes in Arabia, 

could attempt to claim equal status. Thus these two issues, the rising moneyed 

middle class and the tide of religious democracy, were serious threats to the 

power of the elite within the Quraysh.

Indeed, around 450 AD, there was a significant challenge to the ruling 

element of the Abdul Dar clan by brothers within the tribe. This came from 

the second son of Qusayy, Abid Manef, now demanding the right to hold the 

offices of the Ka’bah. A civil war broke out and nearly came to serious fighting 

within the holy precinct around Makkah, when at last a truce was called and 

an agreement made. While Abdul Dar retained the lesser of the offices, the 

Abid Manef, particularly the clan of Hashim, gained the rifahdah, shifting the 

balance of power in Makkah. It was from the princely clan of Hashim, part of 

the Abid Manef, that Muhammad emerged.

Born in 570 AD, Muhammad was orphaned by the time he was six years 

old, being raised first by his paternal grandfather and later his uncle Abu Talib. 

While Abu Talib and the Hashim clan provided Muhammad with protection 

and position, he was still an orphan, and thus his inheritance—and claim to 

any leadership—was seriously threatened. Muhammad had to sense this keenly 

5 Muhammad at Mecca, p. 19. 6The lunar calendar has approximately 354 days.

7 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 64–67; Al-Tabari, p. 1075. Some have noted that 

Muhammad never made any references to Hubal in the Qur’an, thus generating speculation 

by some that Hubal and Allah are one and the same. There is little evidence to support such a 

claim. See Thomas Patrick Hughes, Dictionary of Islam (repr., Chicago, Ill.: Kazi Publications, 

1994), p. 181.
18 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

when he began to engage in merchant trade under his uncle. By the time he 

was twenty-five, he was still unmarried, having very little in assets to contract 

for a wife. He at last struck a deal with an older wealthy noblewoman named 

Khadijah and the two were married in 595. She was fifteen years his senior. 

With his marriage into a good family and access to his wife’s wealth, 

Muhammad was able to develop an economic and political base for himself. 

He began to assert himself within the community, such assertion coming to 

a head when he proclaimed his prophetic calling for the god Allah when he 

was forty years old. His first converts were within his own family, a parallel 

similar to other revolutionaries such as Mao Tse-tung.8 After that, he received 

the support of a rising merchant named Abu Bakr, who not only committed 

financial resources, but recruited others from outside the elite. In fact, Abu 

Bakr’s support was crucial to Muhammad’s movement, raising the question as 

to whether or not he may have been the true power behind the movement.9

At this point, it must be understood what Muhammad was asking of his 

peers and elders within the Quraysh when he called them to Islam. While 

typically explained as peace and submission to Allah, in fact Islam is more 

consonant with temporal political submission, which was revealed by the 

way it was applied.10 Thus, when Muhammad called those around him to 

Islam, he was calling on them to give submission primarily to himself and 

not to Allah. One episode that clearly explains this occurred in Makkah prior 

to the Prophet’s migration to Madinah. Muhammad called a number of the 

leaders of the Quraysh to have a meal with him, after which he called them 

to Islam. Nobody stirred until finally young, scrawny Ali, son of Abu Talib, 

rose up to say he would support the Prophet. Muhammad placed his hand on 

the back of Ali’s neck and said that the young man would be his brother and 

successor. The latter in Arabic is khalifa, and thus was laid the seeds of the 

later Sunni-Shi’ia controversy. When the elders heard this, they turned to Abu 

Talib in astonishment and said, “He has commanded you to listen to your son 

and to obey him!”11 These elders understood exactly what Islam meant, being 

the submission tendered first and foremost to the man Muhammad.12

8 Jung Chang and Jon Halliday, Mao: The Untold Story (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 

2005), pp. 28–29. 9 There are hints as to the level of his authority and influence, not to mention that he 

was the first khalifa after Muhammad’s death. See The Meanings of Sahih al-Bukhari, trans. 

Muhammad Muhsin Khan (New Delhi, 1987), vol. 4, no. 94. Also see an item of poetry by a 

Qurayshi after a Muslim raid in Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 283. 10 Afzalur Rahman, Muhammad as a Military Leader (London: Muslim Schools Trust, 

1980), pp. 11–12; Dictionary of the Holy Qur’an, p. 267. 11 Al-Tabari, pp. 1172–73. 12 There are numerous examples to illustrate this point. See Al-Bukhari, vol. 5, no. 

425; Shaykh Safiur-Rahman al-Mubarakpuri, ed., Tafsir Ibn Kathir (Riyadh, Saudi Arabia: 

Darussalam, 2003), 4:396; “Letter to the People of Tihama Range,” in Letters of the Holy 

Prophet Muhammad, ed. Sultan Ahmed Qureshi (repr., New Delhi: Kitabbhavan, 2003), pp. 
The Roar of Lions 19

It was at this time that Muhammad learned very quickly that his claim to 

leadership among the Quraysh was not going to be well received by some. In 

particular, certain clans, including the Abdul Dar, refused to hear of it and ridiculed Muhammad’s claims. Initially, he was left alone by most of the Quraysh. 

But when Muhammad clearly stated that all the idols of the Ka’bah were to 

be expunged, and, only the worship of Allah, the god to whom Muhammad 

connected his prophetic calling, would be allowed, the other clans’ silence 

turned to ridicule and anger.13 What Muhammad was essentially demanding 

was for other clans to surrender the basis of their power and independence and 

give their submission to Allah—and thus ultimately to Muhammad. 

Many of his biographers try to assert that Muhammad was in constant 

physical danger during this time, but in reality this is greatly exaggerated, as he 

had the protection of Abu Talib and the Hashim clan.14 While opponents could 

ridicule him over his claims, they could not physically harm him. This allowed 

him the freedom to continue preaching, which included efforts to preach to 

outlying tribes when they came for the annual pilgrimage. In fact, one Muslim 

biographer admitted that “Muhammad lived in a free country very much like a 

republic.”15 This is contrary to the popular perception maintained by some.16

But while many refused to heed Muhammad’s calls for submission, there 

were those who did. An analysis of the early male converts to Islam is very 

revealing, indicating that only nine came from within what could be called 

the princely clans while thirty-five were outsiders, those from tribes who 

were excluded from power. And of the former, three were close family to 

Muhammad, while the other six all came from the Abid Manef line, again 

invoking parallels to Mao Tse-tung. Not one came from the Abdul Dar, the 

clan that controlled the other offices of the Ka’bah. Thus, Muhammad’s 

initial appeal was to what could be called the disenfranchised element within 

Makkah. It is also interesting that his primary moral position throughout his 

preaching was that the middle class of the Quraysh, that is, those who were 

becoming independently wealthy from tribal authority, were not giving enough 

of their wealth away to others.17 There have been a number who have noted 

that Muhammad’s teaching, and Islam in general, contains a strong dose of 

socialist philosophy.18

98–99; Muhammad Hamidullah, The Battlefields of the Prophet Muhammad (repr., New Delhi: 

Kitabbhavan, 2003), p. 5. 13 Ibn Sa’d, Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir, trans. S. Moinul Haq (New Delhi: Kitabbhavan, 

n.d.), 1:230–31. 14 Al-Tabari, p. 1174. 15 Muhammad Haykal, The Life of Muhammad, trans. Isma ‘il Raji al-Faruqi (Selangor, 

Malaysia: Islamic Book Trust, 2002), p. 92. 16 Muhammad as a Military Leader, p. 12. 17 Muhammad at Mecca, pp. 70–71. 18 Karen Armstrong, Muhammad (New York: HarperCollins, 1992), p. 92; Maulana 

Muhammad Ali, The Religion of Islam (Dublin, Ohio: Ahmadiyya Anjuman Isha’at Islam 

Lahore, 1990), p. 509. Also see pp. 346, 510–12.
20 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

But Muhammad went beyond direct proclamations by cultivating a fifth 

column within the elite of Makkah itself. While there is no evidence to say 

that Abu Talib ever became a Muslim, he certainly used his leadership in 

the Hashim clan to protect Muhammad from physical harm. But a more 

important personage was found in Muhammad’s uncle al-Abbas bin Abdul 

Muttalib. Al-Abbas was a man of considerable wealth and position in the 

Qurayshi elite, being both an active merchant and one who extensively 

loaned money—essentially a banker. His position also made him a valuable 

conduit for information, and, throughout Muhammad’s campaign against 

the Quraysh, al-Abbas provided money, supplies, and intelligence to his 

nephew in support of his operations.19 Incredibly, his activities never 

seemed to arouse the suspicions of other leaders within the Quraysh. 

Indeed, it is possible that others in the Quraysh unknown to us today were 

also recruited to support Muhammad’s activities and thus refused to stop 

al-Abbas, or even assisted him. An active fifth column within the ranks 

of the Quraysh would be a constant problem for them until the fall of 

Makkah in 630 AD.

While violence against converts to Islam was minimal, with only two killed 

in seven years and even this is in dispute, some of the Quraysh finally lost 

patience with Muhammad.20 They first offered Muhammad the title of King 

of Makkah, but he refused this, as to accept would mean he had received his 

authority at their hands. Next, they tried a boycott of the Hashim clan, which 

lasted three years but lacked substance as some within the Quraysh violated 

the terms and sent supplies to those proscribed. When the boycott collapsed, 

some of the Qurayshi leaders finally made a halfhearted attempt to murder 

Muhammad. He and his converts, over a number of months, migrated north 

to Yathrib, later called Madinah, where Muhammad had relatives who were 

willing to protect him.21 Moreover, he had managed to convince two of the 

main tribes there, the al-Khazraj and al-Aws, to allow him to be the judge over 

their disputes. In making the Second Pledge of Aqabah, the tribal leaders of 

these two groups told Muhammad that making the covenant with him would 

require that they break their treaties with the major Jewish tribes in Madinah. 

19 Battlefields of the Prophet Muhammad, p. 120; Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 

301, 309; Abu Ja’far Muhammad bin Jarir al-Tabari, The History of al-Tabari, vol. 7, The 

Foundation of the Community, trans. M.V. McDonald (Albany: State University of New York, 

1987), pp. 1344–45. Al-Abbas was present at the Battle of Badr, but Muhammad noted that he 

was there against his will. He ensured his uncle was protected and coolly demanded a ransom 

from him for his release so as to maintain his cover. 20 Maulana Muhammad Ali, Muhammad the Prophet (Columbus, Ohio: Ahmadiyya 

Anjuman Isha’at Islam Lahore, 1993), p. 50. This author is one of the few writing on Muhammad 

to mention these deaths, basing them partly on Ibn Sa’d’s The Women of Madina, trans. Aisha 

Bewley (London: Ta-Ha Publishers, 1997), pp. 185–86. Sa’d’s account seems apocryphal as 

it is unlikely Abu Jahl could have gotten away with open murder without inciting some type 

of blood feud. 21 The City. The longer title, al-Madinatu ‘n-Nabi, means The City of the Prophet.
The Roar of Lions 21

Muhammad concurred and supported this action, information that was apparently kept from the Jewish tribal leaders.22 He had set himself on the road of 

armed conflict within the very community to which he was migrating.

With the migration to Madinah in 622, Muhammad now had a relatively 

secure base of operations. However, this base had internal problems, both 

with the tribes who supported him as well as with the three major Jewish 

tribes that refused to enter into a formal treaty with him. Muhammad and 

his approximately one hundred other emigrants established the Covenant of 

Madinah, in which he laid out the basic functions of government in the town, 

the relations of the covenanting tribes to each other, and the fact that none would 

aid the Quraysh.23 While minor Jewish clans entered into this agreement, the 

three major Jewish tribes, the Banu Qaynuqa, al-Nadir, and Qurayzah, were 

not included.24 This is a critical issue, often neglected or distorted in histories 

and biographies.

Muhammad set out to organize his base and prepare to engage the 

Quraysh at their weakest link—their economic livelihood. The mission was, 

in the words of his closest supporter Abu Bakr, to bring people to Allah and 

the right path, and “those who deviated from it, they were punished by the 

Messenger of Allah till they became Muslim.”25 Within Madinah, there were 

two groups of Muslims: the muhajirin, or emigrants from Makkah, and the 

ansar, or helpers who already resided there. With only a few exceptions, 

the muhajirin did not engage in much productive work, although they were 

apparently supposed to in order to assist the ansar in harvesting the latter’s 

date crop.26 Instead, many of the muhajirin resided in the suffah, a section 

of Muhammad’s newly built mosque where unemployed families awaited 

largess as well as recruitment for various razzias, or raids.27 The latter, being 

a distasteful term from the “days of ignorance,” or jahiliyyah, was changed 

to ghazwah or sariyyah—expeditions.28

But expeditions required funding, and so Muhammad instituted the payment 

of zakat, or the charity tax, along with the normal tribal shaykh’s requirement 

22 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 203; Al-Tabari, pp. 1220–21. 23 The number of initial immigrants is vague. This is from a list compiled by Ibn Ishaq, 

The Life of Muhammad, p. 218. 24 “The Treaty of Madina,” in Sultan Ahmed Qureshi, Letters of the Holy Prophet 

Muhammad (repr., New Delhi: Kitabbhavan, 2003), pp. 34–42. Banu means “tribe,” and is a 

common title used. 25 “To all the Rebel Tribes,” in Hafiz Muhammad Adil, trans., Letters of Hadrat Abu Bakr 

Siddiq (New Delhi: Kitabbhavan, 1994), pp. 1–2. Al-Tabari’s version is somewhat different. 

See The History of al-Tabari, vol. 10, The Conquest of Arabia, trans. Fred M. Donner (Albany: 

State University of New York, 1993), p. 1882. 26 Sahih Imam Muslim, trans. Abdul Hamid Siddiqi (New Delhi: Idara Isha’at-E-Diniyat, 

2001), vol. 5, no. 1771, p. 191 [bk. 19, no. 4375]. 27 Al-Tabaqat, 2:300–302; Al-Bukhari, vol. 5, no. 702; Muslim, vol. 8, no. 2769R3, p. 275 

[bk. 37, no. 6672]; Battlefields of the Prophet Muhammad, p. 136. 28 A ghazawah was one led by the Prophet, while a sariyyah was a smaller operation led 

by a lieutenant.
22 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

that of any booty collected, or even mineral wealth mined, one-fifth would go 

to Muhammad as khums.

29 While the first is seemingly innocuous—after all, 

who is against charity—the tax was necessary to provide badly needed funds 

to conduct operations. The second helped fill the coffers at critical moments 

in the early days of the movement and would later accumulate as Muhammad 

demanded the same from tribal leaders who came and gave their Islam.30

Financing is one of the most neglected aspects of research in asymmetric 

warfare, as one can search in vain to discover any discussion regarding the 

financial aspects of these operations. Apparently in the minds of many analysts, 

asymmetric soldiers do not need a place to sleep, food to eat, women to soothe 

their hearts, or entertainment to enliven their souls. The base of operations 

needed funding, and zakat was one of the early principal means. 

As the muhajirin had no property and little wealth, the burden of zakat

fell on the ansar. Madinah was particularly suited for this as it had its own 

agricultural base, something lacking in Makkah. While liquid assets were 

minimal, zakat could be paid in kind and thus troops from the muhajirin would 

at least have rations, while any excess could be traded. By using this system, 

Muhammad got all to participate in expeditions, either directly or indirectly. 

Yet, while the most important aspect of his operations, the logistical base of 

the ansar was also the most obscure.

It took Muhammad about seven months to position himself to make the 

first raids against the Quraysh. The area from Makkah northward in western 

Arabia is called the al-Hijaz and consists of a narrow coastal plain bordering 

the Red Sea, with a significant rise in elevation culminating in a jagged 

range of steep mountains and a plateau of lava rock. Zigzagging along the 

seacoast was the western caravan route between Makkah and Syria, which 

was the major supply line for the merchants of the Quraysh. The vertical 

drop from the interior heights to the caravan route is approximately 2,300 

feet. Thus, the plateau essentially provided an elevated parallel path to the 

trade route, offering Muhammad the operational high ground. Numerous 

mobility corridors of varying size were perpendicular to this route, and this 

provided Muhammad almost unlimited access to the Qurayshi caravans at 

any point of his choosing. As to the operational area, the primary zone of 

initial operations involved close to 100,000 square kilometers, being an area 

29 For an example, see “To the Chiefs of ‘Abahila, Hadar Maut,” in Letters of the Holy 

Prophet, pp. 131–32. Also, in the early days of Islam, zakat was also called saqadah. Sura 

2, recited soon after Muhammad’s arrival in Madinah, contains the earliest references to the 

“poor rate,” or zakat. See Sura 2:83. While Muslim writers defend it as a charity tax, it must 

be recalled that at this time the poor were in the suffah. See Abdul Hameed Siddiqui, The Life 

of Muhammad (Jaya, Malaysia: Islamic Book Trust, 1999), pp. 154–56. 30 “To the Chiefs of ‘Abahila, Hadar Maut,” p. 119; “Letter to Bani Zuhair;” p. 126; 

“Injunctions to the Tribe of Lakham;” p. 134; and “To the Chiefs of Yemen.” All in Letters 

of the Holy Prophet.
The Roar of Lions 23

the size of the state of Indiana. Later operations would include an area three 

to four times that. 

Muhammad’s early army, if it could even be called that, seemed to be a 

motley ill-assortment of men who were poorly equipped and lacked experience 

in field operations. They were particularly hampered by lack of transport, 

having few camels and even fewer horses. Horses were particularly prized, 

as they were fast and provided their riders with the advantage of height in 

battle. Furthermore, the Arabs had already developed the stirrup, making their 

horse-mounted fighters far more effective than their Byzantium counterparts. 

But while horses were fast they were constrained by the nature of the desert 

environment. Lack of water coupled with soft sand or sharp rocky areas limited 

their use to certain terrain. Camels were not as fast nor considered the best 

animals to ride into battle, but their large feet being twice that of a horse’s 

lowered the ground pressure they exerted and made them ideal for soft areas. 

Their legendary endurance through dry areas added to their utility, but like 

horses, they too were sensitive to rocky areas. 

The Quraysh had the most mobile field force in western Arabia, and 

possibly the entire peninsula. With the money necessary to purchase large 

quantities of animals, they could field caravans with up to 2,500 camels and 

an elite cavalry force of several hundred horsemen led by competent field 

officers like Khalid bin al-Walid. Furthermore, their men could afford armor, 

spears, and quality swords. Being the most modern and well-equipped army 

on the field, they could also call upon other tribes to support them as part of a 

coalition. On the other hand, Muhammad’s men had to fight almost exclusively 

on foot. Only occasionally did Muhammad dispatch his early expeditions with 

camels, and then the raiders had to take turns riding them. They had difficulty 

getting decent weapons and initially subsisted on what they could plunder from 

their enemies. Even food could be scarce on some expeditions.31

Nevertheless, Muhammad had some significant advantages over the 

Quraysh. His army, though small, quickly became elite, motivated by a 

single driving force—the will of Muhammad and his developing ideology. 

The Quraysh were divided in their opinions and more concerned with earning 

wealth, especially during the hajj, than they were in engaging in the hardships 

of field campaigning.32 While both sides engaged in active intelligence operations, Muhammad was able to expand his fifth column within the Quraysh to 

keep them divided and confused, while at the same time providing him with 

unparalleled levels of intelligence. While the Quraysh were nervous about 

waging war against people who they still considered to be their brethren, 

31 Al-Bukhari, vol. 5, no. 647, p. 648. 32 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 459–60; Al-Tabari, The History of al-Tabari, vol. 

8, The Victory of Islam, trans. Michael Fishbein (Albany: State University of New York, 1997), 

p. 1884; Al-Tabaqat, 2:85. The references deal with the siege of Madinah by the Quraysh, and 

the siege was conducted two months before the annual hajj. It was necessary for the Quraysh 

to return to provide resources for the expected pilgrims.
24 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Muhammad had stripped the Muslims of their family ties and identity, uniting 

the muhajirin and ansar into one new tribal brotherhood, with more concern 

for obedience to the Prophet than loyalty to traditional family, clan, or tribe, 

thus establishing a deep psychological cohesion.33 Finally, the Quraysh were 

actually squeamish, with a few exceptions, about the horrors of the battlefield. 

In contrast, Muhammad and his men quickly gained an incredible and even 

insatiable love for the spilling of human blood and gore, even that of their 

own.34

An analysis of Muhammad’s offensive campaign against the Quraysh 

reveals five major phases of operations. The first, from 622–623, focused on 

training raw recruits, developing tactics, and establishing some local tribal 

alliances to start isolating the Quraysh. The second, from 624–625, saw the 

first early successes, including victory at the first pitched battle between the 

two sides at Badr in 624, but also included the first major setback with the 

defeat of Muhammad’s force at the base of Mount Uhud, north of Madinah, 

in 625. During this second phase, Muhammad also began his campaign to 

consolidate his hold on Madinah, which meant the expulsion of the Banu

Qaynuqa and al-Nadir, two of the rival Jewish tribes, and the seizure of their 

property and wealth. He had originally intended to kill the men of the Banu

Qaynuqa and al-Nadir but had been constrained by various appeals. On a later 

date, the Banu Qurayzah would not be so fortunate, as Muhammad’s control 

over the town tightened. 

The third phase, from 625–627, saw Muhammad regrouping his forces, 

developing more tribal alliances, often by raiding his neighbors with such 

ferocity that they would virtually beg to give their Islam, or barring such, 

despoiling them until they reached a desperate state of affairs.35 In one year 

of raids, the Muslims seized at least 700 camels and 2,000 goats, plus an 

undefined amount of cattle, with virtually no property loss to themselves.36

They also continued their raids on the Qurayshi caravans and held back a 

Qurayshi counteroffensive at Madinah in what turned out to be the high tide of 

the enemy opposition. In this latter operation, called the Battle of the Trench, 

33 The consequences of such cohesion were deep. One Muslim indicated that if so ordered, 

he would kill his own brother, Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 369. Another offered to 

kill his own father. See ibid., p. 492. 34 Prowess in combat was important to the Arab people, but killing was normally avoided 

in raids. Examples of this desire to kill is seen in Muslim poetry, though some Quraysh began 

to respond in kind. See Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 341, 347, 348, 357, 366, 369, 

408–09, 411. While most Quraysh lamented death, Muslim poets often celebrated it, extolling 

the abilities of martyrs like Muhammad’s uncle, Hamzah. See poetry in ibid., pp. 419–21. An 

example of one reciting explicit poetry of how he would die was Abdullah bin Rawaha, prior 

to the Battle of Mu’tah. See ibid., p. 532. There are also numerous examples of Muslims killing 

with little or no provocation, ibid., pp. 447, 673–75. 35 Al-Tabaqat, 2:108–09. 36 Ibid., 2:97–117. The numbers given are only of that listed. Other raids indicated livestock 

captured but provided no quantities.
The Roar of Lions 25

the Quraysh had assembled a coalition of other tribes that allowed them to 

field an army of 10,000 men, with at least 300 cavalry.37 Using deception 

and deceit, Muhammad was able to divide the coalition, while engaging in 

a month-long battle of attrition using tactics the Quraysh had never before 

seen.38 Despite numerical and technological superiority, the Quraysh withdrew 

from Madinah, with Muhammad noting that the Muslims would now raid 

them mercilessly.39 He was right. But before completing his dominance of 

the Quraysh, Muhammad removed the last obstacle to his complete control of 

Madinah, that being the slaughter of the warriors of the Banu Qurayzah. 

The destruction of the Banu Qurayzah served as an object lesson the 

likes of which many tribes in the area had never seen. While Muhammad 

had ordered the dismemberment of men who stole his camels, or the 

violent attack on a tribe who raided his caravans,40 it was the beheading of 

about 800 warriors of this last Jewish tribe that gave notice to all around 

that Muhammad would brook no opposition. While much is made by 

biographers that the Banu Qurayzah violated a treaty with Muhammad, 

no such treaty has ever been produced, nor is there any real evidence such 

existed. In fact, one hadith, or tradition, indicates that at best there was a 

“non-binding” agreement between the two sides and thus no formal treaty 

at all.41 Even the Qur’an implies that Muhammad could violate a peace 

simply because he suspected a tribe might prove treacherous.42 When one 

recalls that Muhammad had already agreed with the other Madinah tribal 

leaders at the Second Pledge of Aqaba that they would violate their treaties 

with the main Jewish tribes and, moreover, that Muhammad had already 

previously announced openly to the Jews that he intended to expel them 

from Madinah, it comes as no surprise that this final confrontation would 

occur.43 Evidence within Islamic sources indicates that Muhammad took 

measures to provoke such conflicts, and then used minor incidents to justify 

the suppression or destruction of his enemies.

With Madinah now firmly in his control, Muhammad stepped up his 

operations, boldly advancing on Makkah in 627. This time, he had overplayed 

his hand. The Quraysh, fearing an armed Muslim force moving into their town, 

met Muhammad just outside of Makkah and forced him to consent to the Treaty 

of al-Hudaybiah. Its terms were clearly advantageous to the Quraysh, so much 

so that it caused serious dissension within the ranks of Muhammad’s army. 

37 Ibid., 2:80–81.

38 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 454. 39 Al-Bukhari, vol. 5, no. 435. 40 Ibid., vol. 4, no. 261A; vol. 5, no. 505. However, the Al-Tabaqat indicates it was a case 

of lex talionus. See 2:114–15. However, the other hadith does not mention this. Al-Tabaqat, 

2:111–12. 41 Ibid., 2:95.

42 Sura 8:58; Tafsir Ibn Kathir, 4:341–43. 43 Al-Bukhari, vol. 9, nos. 77, 447.
26 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Sullen, the men retraced their steps back to Madinah, after Muhammad boldly 

took measures, including the issuance of poetic propaganda, to transform this 

obvious defeat into an incredible victory.44

Entering the fourth phase of operations, from 627 to 630, Muhammad 

broadened his support base around Madinah. While not gaining many tribes to 

back him, he did obtain their neutrality, thus further increasing the isolation of 

the Quraysh. He then embarked on violating the Treaty of al-Hudaybiah, a fact 

ignored by virtually every one of his biographers. He first secretly supported 

a proxy who took to raiding the Qurayshi caravans along the western route, 

followed by his support for a group of women who migrated to Madinah.45

Finally, he returned to Makkah the following year for a pilgrimage, fully armed 

in violation of the treaty’s seventh provision.46 While the Quraysh protested 

these actions, they did virtually nothing to enforce the treaty. By their inaction, 

they had demonstrated their weakness. In January 630, now with a force of 

10,000 men, Muhammad made his triumphal march on Makkah. The Qurayshi 

resistance decisively collapsed aided by the treachery of some of their own 

leaders, and Muhammad occupied their city. The only casualties were a handful 

of people put to death for insulting him or backing out of their Islam.47

Phase five, from 630 to 632, was the final consolidation of victory. A 

number of campaigns were conducted, some ranging as far north as Syria, 

where an outnumbered Muslim force was compelled to retreat before a large 

Byzantine army. Other campaigns drove reluctant tribes into the Muslim fold, 

and Muhammad spent a great deal of time receiving the Islam of many distant 

tribal leaders and writing what amounted to ultimatums to others, including 

ones to Byzantium and the Sassanid.48

Muhammad’s campaign against the Quraysh was in large measure an 

asymmetric one, in which he generally refused to engage his enemies on their 

terms. He used tactics and principles quite foreign to both the enemies of his 

time and to Westerners of today. These principles are in large measure very 

similar to those used by radical political movements of the 1960s, which were 

summed up in Saul Alinsky’s book Rules for Radicals.

49 These principles could 

very well form the basis for a paradigm shift in the way the United States, and 

the West in general, views asymmetric warfare, in particular involving Islam 

(Table). It is worth analyzing a few of these principles.

44 Sura 48, The Victory; Muslim, vol. 5, no. 1785, p. 205 [bk. 19, no. 4405]; Al-Tabaqat, 

2:122; Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 507. 45 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 507–08, 509–10; Al-Tabari, pp. 1552, 1553. 46 Al-Tabaqat, 2:150; Al-Tabari, p. 1597; “Treaty of Hodaibiya,” in Letters of the Holy 

Prophet Muhammad, pp. 46–47. 47 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 550–51. 48 “Letter to Heracles Caesar,” p. 65, and “Letter to Khusro Perwez, Emperor of Fars,” p. 

70, both in Letters of the Holy Prophet Muhammad. 49 Saul Alinsky, Rules for Radicals: A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals (New York: 

Vintage Books, 1972), pp. 126–38. 
The Roar of Lions 27

While symmetric warfare involves direct combative action, asymmetric 

warfare often involves the mere threat of action. In this case, the principle that 

“the threat is worse than the event itself” is very applicable. Muhammad created 

this constant image of the pending threat and used it to full advantage. He did 

this by selectively using terror to leverage future enemies into submission, a 

method to which he himself admitted.50 Such terror soon became legendary, 

and yet Muhammad could be quite magnanimous to submissive enemies 

when he so chose. In one case, a group of men from the northern tribe of 

Urayna came to the Prophet and professed their Islam. They then managed to 

raid Muhammad’s camels and kill the man tending them. Muhammad sent a 

party in pursuit, and, when they were caught, it was essential for the sake of 

discipline within the Muslim ranks for him to make an example of them. He 

had their arms and legs torn from their bodies, and their eyes gouged out with 

red-hot nails. Screaming in agony, they were then left to die in the midday 

sun.51 While one could argue that they deserved to die for murder, the extreme 

means of execution created a sense of terror and awe among both the faithful 

and enemies.

A reputation for terror and cruelty preceded his later operations, as 

witnessed by the cry of despair from the date farmers of Khaybar when they 

50 Al-Bukhari, vol. 4, no. 220; Muslim, vol. 2, no. 523 [bk. 4, no. 1062]. 51 Al-Bukhari, vol. 4, no. 261A, and vol. 5, no. 505.

Table—Rules for Radicals

1. Power is not only what you have, but what the enemy thinks you 

have.

2. Never go outside the experience of your people.

3. Wherever possible go outside the experience of the enemy.

4. Make the enemy live up to their own book of rules.

5. Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon.

6. A good tactic is one your people enjoy.

7. A tactic that drags on too long is a drag.

8. Keep the pressure on.

9. The threat is usually more terrifying than the thing itself.

10. The major premise for tactics is the development of operations that 

will maintain constant pressure upon the opposition.

11. If you push a negative hard and deep enough it will break through 

into its counterside.

12. The price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative.

13. Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it.

Source: Saul Alinsky, Rules for Radicals: A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals (New 

York: Vintage Books, 1972), pp. 126–38.
28 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

went to their orchards one morning to find Muhammad’s army closing in.52 But 

this threat of terror could also be mitigated by compassion and mercy. After 

the conquest-of-Khaybar operation, a Jewish woman attempted to poison the 

Prophet. While one of his companions died, Muhammad spit the tainted meat 

from his mouth and then questioned the woman about her actions. Upon her 

confession that Muhammad was surely a prophet, and thus strengthening his 

standing with his people, he had the woman released.53 Fear and terror would 

be followed by sighs of relief. Others would experience this same tension 

that would drive them to give their Islam, as witnessed by the letters sent by 

Muhammad to neighboring tribal leaders.

Another principle highlighted by Alinsky is the notion that “one should 

make his enemies live up to their own book of rules.” While many biographers 

are very adulatory of Muhammad regarding treaties, the source materials on his 

life indicate that he had little trouble with violating agreements, while making 

it appear as if his enemies were the first to do so. In the early days of his tenure 

in Madinah, virtually every testimony regarding a ghazwah or sariyyah that was 

sent out was preceded by the statement that a report had come to Muhammad 

that a neighboring tribe was preparing to attack the Muslims. Yet when the 

army sent to break up this enemy arrived, they would find no enemy army 

present. But they certainly found plenty of camels, sheep, and cattle, which 

they promptly seized and brought back to Madinah. Of interest is the fact 

that after the victory at the Battle of the Trench in 627, there were virtually 

no more “rumors” of neighboring tribes about to attack. Instead, Muhammad 

simply sent out his raiding parties to terrorize and pillage those around him.54

By blaming others, he could justify his own raids upon his neighbors, raids 

that often went beyond the norms of custom in Arabia.

While it was well known in Arabia that one did not wish to cause fatalities 

during raids and thus incur a blood feud, Muhammad grew increasingly 

unconcerned with this custom, though he demanded that his enemies retain such 

ideals. He only paid the bloodwit, the payment made to make compensation 

for those killed from other tribes, when it suited his purposes. On a number of 

occasions, his men committed assassinations or even outright murder, and it 

was known that Muhammad’s men were involved.55 Yet no effort was made 

to pay a bloodwit for the deceased. On the other hand, when one of his men 

killed two men who had just been granted protection by Muhammad, a fact 

to which the killer was unaware, Muhammad determined to pay bloodwit, 

52 Ibid., vol. 5, no. 510.

53 Ibid., vol. 4, no. 394; Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 516; Al-Tabari, pp. 1583–84. 

But in the Al-Tabaqat, 2:133, Ibn Sa’d indicates the woman was actually put to death. The 

weight of evidence favors her pardon. 54 Al-Tabaqat, 2:96. 55 Ibid., 2:39.
The Roar of Lions 29

using the incident to create a controversy with the Banu al-Nadir to expel 

them from Madinah.56

Another incident well illustrates this principle. Just prior to the conquest 

of Makkah, Muhammad sent a diplomatic envoy to Heracles, the king of 

Byzantium. On the envoy’s return, he was ambushed and robbed by a raiding 

party of the clan of Judham. Nobody was injured in this raid, and, a neighboring 

tribe, the Banu al-Dubayb, having heard of this incident, caught up to the 

Judham raiders and forced them to return the stolen items to Muhammad’s 

envoy. This did not stop Muhammad from sending out his adopted son Zayd 

with 500 men to raid the Judham, where they killed the clan’s leaders along 

with a number of other men and seized 1,000 camels, 5,000 goats, and took 

100 women and children captive. It was later revealed that the Judham had 

given their Islam earlier, and, though the goods and captives were returned, 

no bloodwit was paid for the dead.57

A third principle of Alinsky’s worth analyzing is the concept that “one 

should go outside the experience of their opponent.” An important aspect 

of asymmetric operations is to engage in tactics within the experience of 

one’s own personnel. On the other hand, it is equally important to hit the 

enemy in ways he does not anticipate nor can counter. During Muhammad’s 

consolidation of his authority in Madinah, he ordered a number of high-profile 

assassinations. While this may seem common enough in the context of history, 

in reality it was quite novel for Arabia. A few examples will suffice.

In March 624, he ordered the assassination of Asma bint Marwan, a 

woman who was reciting poetry against Muhammad. In Arabia, poetry was 

a form of journalism, and good poets were considered ideal repositories of 

historical information regarding the region and its tribes. During the night, 

an assassin infiltrated her home, moved undetected through a room with four 

sleeping children, removed a baby that was asleep on her breast, and drove a 

sword through her body.58

A few months later, in September 624, Muhammad organized the assassination of a prominent leader of the Jewish Banu al-Nadir, Ka’b bin al-Ashraf. 

He was one of those wealthy middle-class individuals Muhammad had been 

speaking against and had been reciting poetry and talking to the Quraysh to 

encourage their resistance to Muhammad after their stunning loss at Badr. 

With Muhammad’s permission, the assassins prepared a ruse to lure Ka’b 

from his fortified home. Several relatives of the Jewish leader came to offer 

56 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 434–37; Al-Tabaqat, 2:68–69. 57 Al-Tabaqat, 2:108–09. 58 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 675; Al-Tabaqat, 2:30–31. Some have tried to say 

this incident was fabricated, but many Muslim writers accept it as true, as do pro-Muslim Western 

writers. See Haykal, Life of Muhammad, p. 243; Shawqi Abu Khalil, Atlas on the Prophet’s 

Biography (Riyadh, Saudi Arabia: Darussalam, 2003), p. 123; Sir John Glubb, The Life and 

Times of Muhammad (New York: Cooper Square Press, 2001), p. 195; W. Montgomery Watt, 

Muhammad at Medina (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2004), p. 178.
30 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

feigned complaints about the Prophet’s rule of Madinah, managed to entice 

Ka’b to follow them in the darkness, and then cut him down in the road with 

a dagger thrust. Though the Banu al-Nadir knew that Muslims had killed him, 

Muhammad offered no bloodwit to pay for the crime.59 Moreover, the day after 

the assassination, the Prophet issued a proclamation to “kill any Jew that falls 

into your hands.”60 After that declaration, a Muslim killed a Jewish merchant, 

and no bloodwit was offered.

Lastly, in the summer of 625, Muhammad heard that a tribe was preparing 

to attack the Muslims, under the leadership of Sufyan bin Khalid. He assigned 

Abd Allah bin Unays to assassinate this tribal leader. Abd Allah, after receiving 

a basic description of the man he was to kill, simply rode into the man’s camp. 

He walked up to Sufyan bin Khalid, introduced himself, and asked him if he 

was preparing such a raid. Upon confirmation, Abd Allah spoke with him at 

length, almost as a friend, before finally killing him in his tent and severing 

his head.61

What these assassinations reveal is the incredible lack of security these 

individuals had, especially the latter who was the leader of a tribe. This indicates 

that few really took seriously the threat of assassination in those days, and this 

made them very vulnerable to the tactic. Moreover, the tactic was considered 

quite despicable by those who survived such attacks and had to bury their 

friends and loved ones. By using assassination as a tactic, Muhammad moved 

outside of the experience of his opponents.

This issue of assassinations brings up possibly the most important aspect 

of asymmetric warfare—the lack of rules. In symmetric warfare, combat 

is governed by a series of rules and protocols today enshrined in a series 

of international conventions, which were the culmination of centuries of 

experience in the Western world. Influenced by the Christian worldview of the 

Western church, the laws of warfare were intended to protect noncombatants 

and alleviate the suffering of those who could not defend themselves. The 

problem with asymmetric warfare is that there are no rules. This is what makes 

fighting an asymmetric enemy so difficult. The principles of warfare used by 

Muhammad broke all conventions and rules of his day. He still demanded that 

his enemies adhere to these rules, while he violated them whenever convenient 

for his objectives. 

The fall of Makkah in 630 did not bring an end to the Quraysh. Instead, 

Muhammad stripped the middle class of its privileges and a principal means 

of increasing wealth, the use of interest, or riba. Concurrently, he reconfirmed 

the position of the Qurayshi leaders in controlling the Ka’bah and any money 

collected for it.62 But instead of the burden of financial support falling on the 

Quraysh, it was now to be born by all. While the princely class still retained 

59 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, p. 368; Al-Tabaqat, 2:39. 60 Al-Tabari, pp. 1372–73. 61 Al-Tabaqat, 2:60. 62 Ibn Ishaq, The Life of Muhammad, pp. 554, 557; Al-Tabari, p. 1642.
The Roar of Lions 31

its power, the rest of Arabia was now required to financially support these 

people in their position through taxes like zakat and ushr, and the threat of 

middle-class competition for leadership had been stymied. The rule of the 

Quraysh was now so firmly established that when Muhammad died, leaders 

within their ranks, including the son of one of Muhammad’s key opponents, 

would rule as the Khalifa and run the Islamic state in its early years of foreign 

conquest. In fact, Abu Bakr would appeal to the ansars that it was his right to 

rule as the first Khalifa as the Quraysh were born for such.63

The establishment of Islam as the ruling element in Arabia also stripped the 

tribal leaders of any real power. Power and authority were now concentrated 

in the hands of the Prophet and his companions, and tribal leaders were to 

submit major decisions to them. This loss of independence meant unification 

in Arabia and thus served to provide the political and financial basis for the 

early triumphs of Islamic conquests throughout the Middle East. Moreover, 

as the neighboring tribes gave their Islam, other Muslims could no longer 

raid and plunder them. After Muhammad’s death, the khalifas had to look 

to greener pastures, which boded ill for their non-Islamic neighbors to the 

northwest and northeast.64

Lastly, one finds a fascinating and very contemporary comparison between 

Muhammad and the early Muslims and their primary opposition of the Quraysh. 

While the latter was technologically and numerically superior, they lacked the 

drive and determination to kill their enemy, and there are also indications that 

they did not believe in ultimate victory.65 In fact, it is difficult to determine if 

they even understood that the early Muslims were their true enemies. More 

concerned about economic prosperity and the opinions of other tribes in the 

area, the Qurayshi leaders were unwilling to implement the measures needed 

to deal the fatal blows to Muhammad’s insurgency. Equally important was the 

infiltration within their own ranks of secret Muslims, who not only confused 

the counsel of the Qurayshi leadership, but also provided valuable intelligence 

and financing to Muhammad, and even helped protect the property of émigré 

Muslims within Makkah.66 Indecisive and confused, the Quraysh were unable 

to maintain their coalitions, thus finding themselves increasingly isolated. 

When Muhammad’s army marched on Makkah, the Qurayshi leaders all but 

collapsed with their principal men rushing to give their Islam.

In contrast, Muhammad and his men were almost ruthless to the point of 

excess. They used methods and tactics that stunned the genteel sensibilities 

of the Quraysh and even the neighboring tribes, such as assassinations and 

brutal killings as punishments for what were often minor offenses within the 

63 Al-Tabari, pp. 1840–42. The Khalifa in question was Mu’awiyah bin Abu Sufyan 

(661–680), and one of the key founders of the Umayyad dynasty. 64 Efraim Karsh, Islamic Imperialism (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2006), 

p. 19.65 Tafsir Ibn Kathir, 4:274; Al-Bukhari, vol. 4, no. 276, and vol. 5, no. 375. 66 Al-Bukhari, vol. 4, no. 314.
32 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

context of the Arabian world. With the surrender of the mighty Quraysh, 

neighboring tribes swiftly gave their Islam to the new ruler of the Arabs and 

paid their tribute accordingly. But while the killings could be brutal, they 

were selective and limited, thus serving as object lessons for those who were 

hesitant to submit.67 The mere threat of a Muslim assassin’s blade or massed 

beheadings was now enough to get a recalcitrant tribal leader to tender his 

submission and pay zakat and khums to the Prophet. Indeed, Muhammad’s 

selectivity in choosing his object lessons meant that only a few thousand died 

during his ten years of campaigning. This alone marks him as one of the most 

remarkable practitioners of asymmetric warfare. 

67 Sura 8:57; Tafsir Ibn Kathir, 4:341.
Southern (Dis)Comfort: British Phase IV 

Operations in South Carolina and Georgia, 

May–September 1780

Steven J. Rauch

On 8 June 1780, Lt. Col. Thomas Brown, commander of the Loyalist 

provincial King’s Carolina Rangers, led his regiment into the frontier town of 

Augusta, Georgia; the place where his Whig neighbors had once tormented, 

tortured, and disfigured him.1 In August 1775, Brown had obstinately supported 

the British Crown against the Whigs and their traitorous actions. For holding 

those convictions, he was confronted by a large mob; hit in the head with a 

rifle, which fractured his skull; tied to a tree; and had burning pieces of wood 

stuck under his feet. Next, his enemies scalped the hair from his head in three 

or four places. He lost two toes due to the burning he suffered when he was 

tarred and feathered. Brown was then paraded through Augusta in a cart while 

ridicule and insults were heaped upon him by the Whig “Patriots.”2 “Burnt 

Foot” Brown, as he came to be derisively called, spent the next several years 

leading a regiment of Loyalist rangers in Florida and Georgia, keeping alive 

the hope that Britain would overthrow the radical regimes of the Whigs and 

restore peaceful government to the region.

The successful British capture of Charleston on 12 May 1780 had made 

Brown’s triumphal return to Augusta possible. There, American Maj. Gen. 

Benjamin Lincoln surrendered almost six thousand Continental and militia 

troops to a powerful British joint land and naval force commanded by Lt. Gen. 

Henry Clinton.3 From the British perspective, it was “mission accomplished,” 

as the most important city in the southern states fell into their hands. It seemed 

all that remained were minor postcombat operations to destroy an inconsequential number of fanatical Whig “dead-enders.” By the end of June 1780, 

columns of British and Loyalist troops, such as Brown’s, had overrun South 

1For this paper, I will use the terms Whigs and Loyalists to describe Americans who held 

different political views. I avoid the use of the words “Patriot” or “American,” as they can 

apply to either side; both were native, both were patriotic, and both were American. Political 

ideology served as the mechanism for division. 2The definitive book on Brown is Edward J. Cashin, The King’s Ranger: Thomas Brown and 

the American Revolution on the Southern Frontier (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1989). 3 The most recent account of the campaign for Charleston is found in Carl P. Borick, A 

Gallant Defense: The Siege of Charleston, 1780 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 

2003). For the number of prisoners and casualties of the siege of Charleston, see p. 222. 
34 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Carolina and Georgia, garrisoned major population centers, established forward 

operating bases from the coastal towns deep into the backcountry piedmont, 

and begun a comprehensive program to organize, train, and equip units of 

native Loyalists to help restore order and stability to the region. However, 

subsequent events demonstrated that British forces operated in a complex 

social, economic, and military environment, one in which commanders soon 

found themselves struggling to hold fixed bases against attack, protecting 

supply convoys from ambush, searching for and fighting bands of insurgents 

inspired by regional leaders, and trying to coexist with a populace where friend 

was often indistinguishable from foe.

The purpose of this paper is to explore some of the challenges faced by the 

British army of liberation—or occupation, depending on your view—during 

the immediate months that followed what appeared to be a conflict-ending, 

decisive victory at Charleston. The British faced a new phase of the southern 

campaign, one which we identify today as Phase IV operations or postconflict 

operations. Phase IV operations include those tasks designed to build a secure 

and stable environment so that political, economic, and social reconstruction 

can occur.4 One of the greatest challenges during this phase is effective 

management of the transition through policies designed to promote a unified 

effort and mitigate any attempts at disruption by determined and often fanatical 

opposition. Recently, historian Joseph Ellis framed this challenge in the form 

of a historically enduring question: “Can a powerful army sustain control 

over a widely dispersed population that contains a militant minority prepared 

to resist subjugation at any cost?”5 By using the example and experiences 

of Loyalist commander Brown, I hope to illustrate some of the challenges 

of occupation that he and other British commanders faced as they sought to 

restore peace, stability, and security to Georgia and South Carolina during 

the summer of 1780. 

Operation Southern Campaign I (1775–1778)

During 1775–1776, southern Whig leaders and their supporters overthrew 

the royal governments of the southern colonies of Virginia, North Carolina, 

South Carolina, and Georgia in relatively bloodless coup d’états. The southern 

Whigs were indirectly aided in their efforts when the British chose to focus most 

4 The phases of an operation include Phase I (preparation), Phase II (initial operations), 

Phase III (combat operations), and Phase IV (postcombat operations). The topic of Phase IV 

operations related to the war in Iraq has generated several discussions in recent literature. 

See Thomas E. Ricks, “Army Historian Cites Lack of Postwar Plan,” Washington Post, 25 

Dec 2004, p. A01; Col. Kevin C. M. Benson, “OIF Phase IV: A Planner’s Reply to Brigadier 

Aylwin-Foster,” Military Review (March–April 2006): 61–68; Lt. Col. (Ret.) Conrad C. Crane, 

“Phase IV Operations: Where Wars Are Really Won,” Military Review (May–June 2005): 

27–36; and Andrew Garfield, Succeeding in Phase IV: British Perspectives on the US Effort to 

Stabilize and Reconstruct Iraq (Foreign Policy Research Institute, September 2006). 5 Joseph J. Ellis, “Washington: The Crying Game,” Los Angeles Times, 29 Dec 2006.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 35

of their military power on containing and suppressing the Whig rebellion in the 

northern colonies. However, the British did undertake a short and inconclusive 

raid on Charleston in June 1776 by land forces commanded by Clinton and 

naval units directed by Admiral Peter Parker. The defense of Charleston, 

enabled by a fort of palmetto logs on Sullivan’s Island, provided the Whigs 

a physical and moral victory over British conventional military forces.6 The 

1776 raid on Charleston was to have been timed with an uprising of North 

Carolina Scotch-Irish Loyalists, who had expected earlier assistance and were 

prematurely defeated by the Whigs at the battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge in 

February 1776.7 Coincidently with the Charleston raid, open warfare broke 

out between Cherokee Indians and backcountry settlers in Georgia, South 

Carolina, and North Carolina, which appeared to validate an open alliance of 

the British and Indians against the backcountry people.8

After the victories over the British, Loyalists, and Indians in 1775–1776, 

the southern Whigs enjoyed almost two and a half years of relative peace. 

They used this breathing space to organize their governments to include 

absorbing the existing militia structures, tax structures, legal systems, and 

legislative assemblies. Between 1776 and 1778, the Whig governments 

conducted several limited military campaigns against pockets of Loyalists, 

the Creek and Cherokee, and the loyal British colony of East Florida. These 

campaigns exercised the militia systems and provided valuable experience 

for a small cadre of Whig leaders. It was also during this time that southern 

Loyalists were subjected to varying degrees of repression, to include murder, 

and many Americans, such as Thomas Brown, found themselves facing the 

choices of compromising their values so they could retain their property, 

fleeing their homes to more stable parts of the empire, or taking up arms 

and fighting against the rebellion.9 By the end of 1778, an uneasy détente 

6The palmetto tree on the South Carolina state flag commemorates this event. 

7 For a good overview, see David K. Wilson, The Southern Strategy: Britain’s Conquest 

of South Carolina and Georgia, 1775–1780 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press: 

2005), pp. 5–58. 8 For information on the early campaigns, see John W. Gordon, South Carolina and the 

American Revolution: A Battlefield History (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 

2003), pp. 34–57. See also Jeff Dennis, “Southern Campaigns Against the Cherokees: A Brief 

Compilation,” Southern Campaigns of the American Revolution 2, no. 10 (October 2005): 17–19, 

available at www.southerncampaign.org; and Jeff Dennis, “Native Americans and the Southern 

Revolution, Part II,” Southern Campaigns of the American Revolution 4, no. 3 (July–September 

2007): 21–27, available at www.southerncampaign.org. 9On 16 September 1777, the Georgia Whig legislature or General Assembly issued An Act 

for the Expulsion of the Internal Enemies of this State to set up twelve-man committees in each 

county with authority to judge the political allegiance of any male over the age of twenty-one. 

Two witnesses were required to verify that he was a “Friend of Freedom,” and the man had to 

swear an oath of allegiance to the state of Georgia. If he was not a Friend of Freedom, he was 

to be banished from the state under penalty of death, never to return, and the loss of one-half 

of his property. Heard Robertson, ed., “Georgia’s Banishment and Expulsion Act of September 

16, 1777,” Georgia Historical Quarterly (Summer 1971): 274–82. 
36 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

came to exist between the Whigs and those Loyalists who chose to remain 

in their homeland.10

Change of Course—Operation Southern Campaign II (Georgia)

By 1778, Lord George Germain, secretary of state for the American 

department, was frustrated by the lack of progress in the war, particularly the 

defeat at Saratoga and the inconclusive campaigns near Philadelphia in 1777. 

An important concern was that British military power was limited, and, when 

France openly became an American ally, the war changed from a regional 

conflict into a world war.11 This development stretched British naval and 

land resources as the empire tried to operate in several theaters of operations, 

particularly the valuable sugar-producing West Indies.12 The shortage of 

manpower had led the British to contract with various German princes for 

military forces, commonly known as Hessians, to augment the small regular 

British Army conducting operations in America. 

Thus, by 1778, the British government sought to change its strategy, and 

it appeared that operations in the southern colonies could achieve success. 

The “soft underbelly” held sparsely settled populations, a large slave population that might be exploited, and valuable export economies based on rice, 

indigo, beef, hides, and naval stores.13 On 8 March 1778, Germain ordered 

an expedition be sent to recover Georgia and the Carolinas. In general, the 

British adopted a two-phased approach to recover the South. They based the 

first phase on a swift military invasion to destroy or capture Whig combat 

units and the targeting of Whig leaders for capture and removal from power 

and influence. In the second and more complex phase, they would restore 

peace through reconstituted royal civil governments.14 Human intelligence 

analysts classified the southern populace as generally Loyalists who would 

enthusiastically embrace the opportunity to overthrow their tyrannical Whig 

governments when British military power appeared.15

10 For events of this period, see Kenneth Coleman, The American Revolution in Georgia, 

1763–1789 (Athens: University of Georgia Press: 1958), and Cashin, King’s Ranger. 11 The best account of the British perspective of the war remains Piers Mackesy, The War 

for America, 1775–1783 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1964); Bison book ed. 

(Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993). 12 Mackesy, War for America, p. xv. 13 Ibid., p. 159.

14 Alan S. Brown, ed., “James Simpson’s Reports on the Carolina Loyalists, 1779–1780,” 

Journal of Southern History 21 (November 1955): 513; Mackesy, War for America, p. 233; 

Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 59–64; Gordon, South Carolina, pp. 58–62; and John S. Pancake, 

This Destructive War: The British Campaign in the Carolinas, 1780–1782 (Tuscaloosa: 

University of Alabama Press: 2003), pp. 1–19. 15 The question of how many Loyalists there were among the American population has been 

addressed in several sources. The most useful is Paul H. Smith, “The American Loyalists: Notes 

on Their Organization and Numerical Strength,” William and Mary Quarterly 24 (April 1968): 

259–77. Smith concludes that about 19,000 men served in provincial or Loyalist militia units 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 37

The constrained force structure drove British planners to use the 

minimum number of “boots on the ground” and to rely on Loyalists to assume 

a significant role in their own liberation, to include overthrowing, capturing, 

and detaining former Rebel leaders. As John Shy has described this effort, 

“No longer would British troops try to occupy and hold directly every square 

foot of territory; instead, the war was to be ‘Americanized’—territory once 

liberated would be turned over as quickly as possible to loyal Americans 

for police and defense, freeing redcoats to move on to the liberation of 

other areas.”16 These Loyalist security forces would then assist in the 

reestablishment of civil government, the economy, judicial functions, and 

public safety. 

The successful invasion of Georgia in December 1778 by forces led by 

Lt. Col. Archibald Campbell and Maj. Gen. Augustine Prevost seemed to 

validate all the expectations of the new strategy. The defeat of the Georgia 

Whig regime was hailed as a success, and many exiled Georgia Loyalists 

returned to the homes they had fled earlier. However, there were indications 

that Whig resistance would be offered from South and North Carolina. In 

February 1779, a combined force of Georgia and South Carolina Whigs 

destroyed a South Carolina Loyalist force at Kettle Creek, Georgia. That 

incident was perhaps overshadowed by the stinging defeat in March 1779 

of Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina militia and Continental 

forces at Briar Creek by British forces.17 The British determined that the 

backcountry region near Augusta and beyond was too difficult to control 

and instead appeared satisfied with a foothold at Savannah and along a 

thin corridor of the Georgia coast. Occupation was not stagnant; during the 

spring, Prevost attempted another inconclusive raid on Charleston and, more 

dramatically, defended Savannah against the joint American and French 

expedition in October 1779. To anyone paying attention, the operations in 

Georgia revealed an early indication of the complex problems facing an 

occupying military force attempting to pacify a colony rent by the stresses 

of civil war and rebellion against authority.18

in all areas throughout the war. From that figure, he concludes that there were about 128,000 

adult male Loyalists out of a total Loyalist population of 513,000 men, women, and children, 

or 19.8 percent of white Americans. 16 John Shy, “British Strategy for Pacifying the Southern Colonies, 1778–1781,” in Jeffrey 

J. Crow and Larry E. Tise, The Southern Experience in the American Revolution (Chapel Hill: 

University of North Carolina Press, 1978), p. 159. 17 For good recent summaries of these battles, see Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 

65–100. 18 Martha Condray Searcy, “1779: The First Year of the British Occupation of Georgia,” 

Georgia Historical Quarterly, 63 (Summer 1983): 168–88; Kenneth Coleman, “Restored 

Colonial Georgia, 1779–1782,” Georgia Historical Quarterly 40 (March 1956): 1–20; and 

Patrick J. Furlong, “Civilian-Military Conflict and the Restoration of the Royal Province of 

Georgia, 1778–1782,” Journal of Southern History 38 (1972): 415–42.
38 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Operation Southern Campaign III (South Carolina)

In March 1779, Germain advised Clinton that he should follow up success 

in Georgia with a more decisive operation to recover South Carolina.19 To help 

obtain intelligence about the inhabitants’ attitudes toward such an operation, 

Germain ordered James Simpson, former royal attorney general for South 

Carolina, to Georgia and South Carolina to report on conditions. On 28 

August 1779, Simpson reported to Germain and Clinton that the Loyalists 

of both Georgia and South Carolina had been relentlessly persecuted since 

1776 and anxiously sought assistance to overthrow their Whig oppressors. 

Simpson stated, 

Unless the government was to be so firmly established as to give security 

to them without protection of the Army . . . the success would be far from 

complete. And if upon a future emergency, the Troops were withdrawn . . . 

they should suffer. I am of the opinion whenever the King’s Troops move to 

Carolina they will be assisted by very considerable numbers of the inhabitants. 

. . . If the terror [the Whigs] have excited was once removed, a few months 

would restore this country to its former good government.”20

All information seemed to indicate that a significant number of Loyalists were 

ready to assist the British military with manpower and political support. 

Clinton departed New York City on 26 December 1779 with 8,708 soldiers 

aboard a fleet of eighty-eight transports accompanied by thirty warships.21 V. 

Adm. Marriot Arbuthnot commanded the naval component of the expedition. 

Despite their conflicting personalities, Clinton and Arbuthnot managed to 

execute a superb example of a joint operation, landing Clinton’s army on 

the Sea Islands south of Charleston and then supporting the land forces as 

they advanced toward the city. Joined by almost two thousand men from the 

Savannah garrison, Clinton bottled up Maj. Gen. Benjamin Lincoln’s force of 

almost six thousand men in Charleston, which included the regular regiments 

from South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia—almost a third of the 

Continental Army. During a siege that lasted from 30 March until 12 May, 

few casualties were suffered by either side, and Clinton implored Lincoln 

to surrender.22 After being rebuffed several times, Clinton was prepared 

to lay waste to the city, but Lincoln, persuaded by the Charleston political 

leaders, agreed to surrender. A frustrated Clinton refused to allow Lincoln’s 

19 Brown, “James Simpson,” p. 513; Borick, Gallant Defense, pp. 16–24. 20 Brown, “James Simpson,” p. 519. 

21 Wilson, Southern Strategy, p. 198; Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 23. 22 Total casualties were 99 killed and 217 wounded among the British Army and naval 

forces. The Americans lost 89 killed and 138 wounded, mostly from the Continental forces. 

Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 222. 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 39

army the normal honors of war and humiliated them upon their surrender.23

Though Lincoln and many of his senior officers were paroled and eventually 

exchanged, many of the rank and file of the Continentals were forced to endure 

the filthy prison ships in Charleston harbor for almost a year.24 The largest city 

in the South, its center of political power and economic trade, had fallen to a 

completely successful conventional military campaign. 

Phase IV: Postcombat Operations

The British victory on 12 May sent a shock wave through the southern 

states that stunned supporters of the Whig cause and electrified those Loyalists 

who had suppressed their beliefs since 1776. Clinton and his commanders were 

almost euphoric in their descriptions of future operations in South Carolina 

and Georgia. During this phase of operations, they had to accomplish several 

tasks. First, they had to extend the presence of British troops from the coast 

into the interior as far as the backcountry to physically demonstrate that Crown 

authority had returned. Next, as determined by their assumptions and limited 

force structure, they would recruit and organize Loyalist militia units so that 

Georgians and South Carolinians could assist with maintaining order in the 

region. Perhaps the most critical task was to determine how to deal with the 

former Whigs—an issue that raised questions about how many would return 

their allegiance to Britain, in what capacity they could serve, and how many 

would continue to resist, either passively or violently, the British attempt at 

reconstruction.25

To accomplish the first task, Clinton, assisted by his deputy, Lt. Gen. 

Charles, Earl Cornwallis, sent regular and provincial forces into the interior 

regions of South Carolina, fanning out from the coast and along the Savannah 

River into Georgia. While moving forward, the commanders of the British units 

had orders to destroy any remnants of Rebel forces and encourage the Loyalists 

to take control of local regions. During these early deployments, the inhabitants 

and the British military forces had their first personal interaction with each 

other. In some cases, the regular troops, who generally lived at poverty level, 

pillaged and looted farms without concern for the owner’s status as a Whig 

or Loyalist. When Whigs were victims, it was deemed a fortune of war, but 

acts against Loyalists could result in the making of new enemies. Loyalist 

columns also used this opportunity to seek retribution to settle old scores. The 

23 This action was viewed as a personal insult to Benjamin Lincoln, but it would be repaid 

at Yorktown on 19 October 1781, when Cornwallis’ army surrendered under similar terms to 

Washington’s deputy commander, Benjamin Lincoln. 24 Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 223. 25 A good overview of these problems is described in Louis D. F. Frasche, “Problems of 

Command: Cornwallis, Partisans and Militia, 1780,” Military Review (April 1977): 60–74.
40 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

temporary void of power between the Whig regime and restored Crown rule 

also contributed to a general lawlessness and rise of criminal activity.26

One incident made a lasting impression on all inhabitants. On 29 May 1780, 

a British column led by Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton and a small Continental force 

led by Col. Abraham Buford fought an action in a region known as the Waxhaws 

near the North Carolina border. After the fight ended, 113 of Buford’s men lay 

dead, with 150 wounded and 53 captured. The British lost only 17 casualties. 

The Whigs alleged that Tarleton had ordered surrendering American prisoners 

killed and promoted a perception that the British did not adhere to the laws of war. 

Tarleton soon became known as “Bloody Ban” as Whig sympathizers sought to use 

incidents such as Waxhaws to sway opinion away from supporting the Crown.27

As Colonel Brown led his veteran King’s Carolina Rangers north from 

Savannah to occupy Augusta, he did not meet any resistance.28 On 18 June, 

Brown reported to Cornwallis that he had taken Augusta and had initiated 

efforts to restore royal authority to the backcountry. On the same day, Lt. 

Col. Nisbet Balfour moved to possess the post at Ninety-Six, while another 

force under command of Cornwallis moved to occupy Camden. The Whigs 

offered no resistance to these operations, and the British believed that they 

had defeated all organized opposition.29

The British secured their gains in the interior by establishing a series of 

interconnected posts—what we would call forward operating bases, or FOBs, 

today— along key lines of communication, such as rivers and roads. These 

posts began at the coast and included Savannah, Charleston, and Georgetown; 

extended through Camden, Rocky Mount, and Hanging Rock; and along the 

Savannah River from Ebenezer to Augusta to Ninety-Six. Brown’s base at 

Augusta was critical because it secured the British left flank along the Savannah 

River, and it served as the gateway to trade and communication with the 

Cherokee and Creek nations. Additional smaller fortified posts such as Fort 

Granby, Fort Motte, and Fort Watson linked these bases into a network for 

logistics and communication throughout South Carolina and Georgia.30

26 Pancake, Destructive War, pp. 94–95. 27 Rpt, Tarleton to Cornwallis, 30 May 1780, in Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton, A History of 

the Campaigns of 1780 and 1781 in the Southern Provinces of North America (1787; repr. 

North Stratford, N.H.: Ayer Company Publishers, 2001), p. 84. The most recent study of the 

Waxhaws battle is by Thomas A. Rider, “Massacre or Myth: No Quarter at the Waxhaws, 29 

May 1780” (Master’s thesis, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2002). In addition, 

see James Piecuch, “Massacre or Myth? Banastre Tarleton at the Waxhaws, May 29, 1780,” 

Southern Campaigns of the American Revolution 1, no. 2 (October 2004): 3–10, available at 

www.southerncampaign.org; Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 242–61. 28 Brown to Cornwallis, 18 Jun 1780, 30/11/2, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 166–68, British 

Public Records Office (BPRO). 29 Henry Lee, Memoirs of the War in the Southern Department of the United States (1869; 

repr., New York: Arno Press, 1969), pp. 163–64. 30 Tarleton provides a detailed description of the bases and units assigned to garrison and 

patrol the region. Tarleton, History of the Campaigns, pp. 86–88.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 41

These forward bases served several purposes. They could garrison troops 

sent out to patrol the immediate area and demonstrate the presence of royal 

authority. They allowed each base to support others, as they were usually within 

a day or two march or travel by water, and they provided a safe haven where 

wounded could convalesce, food could be gathered from the countryside and 

stored, jails that could hold fugitive Rebels, and courts that could try them. 

The forward bases served as centers for communication of policy and a place 

of refuge for those harassed where British power was absent. 

Collapse of Whig Resistance in the Backcountry

Many Whig militia leaders were convinced that the rebellion was over. On 

28 June, Brown and other Loyalist officers received the surrenders of various 

Whig units. Loyalist William Manson accepted the surrender of Georgia militia 

Col. John Dooley’s command of about 400 men, along with over 210 stands of 

arms.31 Brown accepted the surrender of Cols. Benjamin Garden’s and Robert 

Middleton’s South Carolina regiments and ordered them to return to their homes 

without any penalties as prisoners on parole.32 Prominent regional leaders, such 

as Andrew Pickens from the Ninety-Six district, who had openly resisted British 

and Loyalist activity in the preceding years, accepted parole and returned to their 

plantations with their wills broken. However, a few others, such as Dooley’s 

subordinate, militia Lt. Col. Elijah Clarke of Wilkes County, Georgia, and Maj. 

James McCall from South Carolina, determined to remain in the field and resist 

all British efforts to restore royal order throughout the region.33

31 Robert S. Davis Jr., “The Last Colonial Enthusiast: Captain William Manson in 

Revolutionary Georgia,” Atlanta Historical Journal 28 (Spring 1984): 23–38. For John Dooley, 

see Robert Scott Davis, “Colonel Dooley’s Campaign of 1779,” Huntington Library Quarterly

46 (Winter 1984): 65–71, and Davis, “A Frontier for Pioneer Revolutionaries: John Dooley 

and the Beginnings of Popular Democracy in Original Wilkes County,” Georgia Historical 

Quarterly 90 (Fall 2006): 315–49. 32 Edward J. Cashin and Heard Robertson. Augusta and the American Revolution. (Darien, 

Ga.: Ashantilly Press, 1975), p. 42. 33 There is not a good biography of Elijah Clarke or James McCall. The work by Louise 

Frederick Hayes, Hero of the Hornet’s Nest: A Biography of Elijah Clarke (New York: 1946), 

is more akin to historical fiction than scholarly research. For a reliable summary of Clarke’s 

life, see Robert Scott Davis, “Elijah Clarke: Georgia’s Partisan Titan,” Southern Campaigns 

of the American Revolution 4, nos. 1–3 (January–March 2007): 37–39, available at www.

southerncampaign.org. Even less is available on James McCall, though much may be found 

in his son’s account of Georgia history. See Hugh McCall, The History of Georgia (Atlanta: 

Cherokee Publishing Co., 1909), as well as recent studies by Sam Fore, “Presentation on 

Lieutenant Colonel James McCall Given at Musgrove’s Mill State Historic Site, Clinton, SC, 

on December 17, 2005,” Southern Campaigns of the American Revolution 3, no. 1 (January 

2006): 11–13, and Daniel Murphy and Ron Crawley, “The Real Life Exploits of an Unknown 

Patriot: Lt. Col. James McCall,” Southern Campaigns of the American Revolution 3, no. 12 

(December 2006): 19–23, available at www.southerncampaign.org.
42 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Clinton’s Proclamation—You Are with Us or Against Us

Clinton sought to shift the burden of reconstruction to the inhabitants as 

quickly as possible, stating, “The helping hand of every man is wanted to 

re-establish peace and good government.”34 However, before the British could 

put a “southern face” on the situation, they had to implement safeguards to 

ensure that former Whig regime members were eligible to resume important 

civic responsibilities. This process of “de-Whigification” proved critical to 

subsequent events. The British insisted that all subjects take public oaths of 

loyalty before they could be employed in any official political or military 

capacity.35 They arrested those Whigs identified as unredeemable either 

ideologically or due to specific acts they had committed and held them in 

Charleston or, in some cases, removed them from the region and sent them to 

prison in St. Augustine, Florida.36

Though thousands of South Carolinians and Georgians agreed to take 

the oath, open demonstration of loyalty often depended on the assured 

presence of regular British troops.37 Many Loyalists chose to withhold their 

full support until they were sure the army had eliminated armed remnants 

of the Whig regime.38 Clinton, however, was convinced that calm would 

be quickly restored and stated, “From every Information I receive, I have 

the strongest reason to believe that the general Disposition of the People 

to be not only friendly to the Government, but forward to take up arms in 

its support.”39

On 1 June 1780, Clinton issued what amounted to a full pardon for 

most treasonable offenses, except for murder, committed by any Whigs 

who surrendered and accepted parole.40 This policy meant that most former 

Whigs could return to their homes and, as long as they did not take up arms in 

rebellion, that they would be accepted back into British society. Unfortunately, 

this policy aggravated the Loyalists, who had suffered years of abuse and now 

found their former oppressors restored to full citizenship, with no obligation to 

demonstrate loyalty through military service. By merely taking an oath, former 

34 Handbill issued after the surrender of Charleston, Tarleton, History of the Campaigns, 

pp. 68–70. 35 Prominent Whigs such as Charles Pinckney, former president of the Continental Congress; 

Henry Middleton; and one of Lincoln’s cavalry commanders, Daniel Horry, took the oath of 

allegiance. Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 232. 36 A list of thirty of the most wanted inhabitants of Charleston can be found in Tarleton, 

History of the Campaigns, p. 156, and Note B, p. 186. 37 Colin Campbell, ed., Journal of an Expedition Against the Rebels of Georgia in North 

America Under Orders of Archibald Campbell Esquire, Lieut. Col. of His Majesty’s 71st

Regiment, 1778 (Darien, Ga.: Ashantilly Press, 1981), p. viii. 38 Coleman, Georgia in the Revolution, p. 122. 39 Clinton to Cornwallis, 29 May 1780, cited in Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 234. 40 Proclamation, issued by Clinton and Arbuthnot , 1 Jun 1780, in Tarleton, History of the 

Campaigns, pp. 75–76. 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 43

Rebels escaped punishment and reverted to the same status as loyal subjects 

who had suffered for years because of their stalwart allegiance. This outcry 

from the Loyalists induced Clinton to change his parole policy. 

On 3 June 1780, Clinton issued a revised policy, effective 20 June, that 

stated, “It is . . . proper that all persons should take an active part in settling 

and securing His Majesty’s government and delivering the Country from 

that anarchy which [has] prevailed. . . . All persons . . . who shall afterwards 

neglect to return to their allegiance and to His Majesty’s government will be 

considered as Enemies and Rebels to the same and treated accordingly.”41

This released the former Whigs from their paroles on 20 June and, after that 

date, imposed on them as citizens a duty to actively fight against their former 

comrades, the “dead-enders” like Clarke and McCall who did not accept the 

parole. The proclamation meant that former Whigs could not be neutral, no 

matter how much they wanted to be. They had to be either for or against the 

British Crown. After backing the former Whigs into a corner where they 

now had to make a choice, Clinton threw that policy grenade into the lap of 

Cornwallis and departed Charleston for New York two days later on 5 June. 

Cornwallis would have to deal with the consequences of this policy.

Cornwallis Assumes Control of Operation Southern Campaign III

Upon Clinton’s departure, the responsibility for the campaign and 

reconstruction of the liberated colonies rested upon Cornwallis, who had about 

6,369 regular and provincial troops.42 He indicated his view of occupation by 

modifying Clinton’s proclamations to ensure greater protection for those who 

had remained loyal to the Crown and to provide more severe punishment to 

those who had chosen rebellion. During June, Cornwallis issued an order to the 

commanders of British forward operating bases to ensure that they understood 

in no uncertain terms his policy toward those who had second thoughts about 

their allegiance. Cornwallis wrote, 

I have ordered in the most positive manner, that every militia man who has 

borne arms with us and afterward joined the enemy, shall be immediately 

hanged. I desire you will take the most rigorous measures to punish the rebels in the district in which you command, and that you obey in the strictest 

manner, the directions I have given in this letter.43

41 Proclamation, issued by Clinton, 3 Jun 1780, in Tarleton, History of the Campaigns, 

pp. 73–74. 42 Borick, Gallant Defense, p. 236. Cornwallis had 6 British regiments, 3 Hessian regiments, 

and 6 provincial regiments of Loyalists. Mackesy states that in July, the disposition of British 

forces in South Carolina and Georgia was 6,129 fit for duty out of 8,439 total effectives. 

Mackesy, War for America, p. 346. 43 Cited in McCall, History of Georgia, p. 481. 
44 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

The organization of Loyalist internal security forces was most significant 

in the Ninety-Six district, one of the most populous and contested in the 

region. Colonel Balfour, assisted by Maj. Patrick Ferguson, whom Clinton had 

appointed inspector general of militia on 22 May, formed seven battalions of 

Loyalist militia with about four thousand men.44 Ferguson served as the main 

adviser or training instructor, charged with taking undisciplined backcountry 

Loyalists and turning them into a fighting force capable of opposing their 

Whig counterparts. His major complaint about his new recruits was their ill 

discipline—many of them got homesick and simply left the training camps. 

Also, in the cliquish circles of the British Army, Ferguson was considered a 

protégé of Clinton, which made for an awkward relationship with Cornwallis 

and his supporters. Balfour, a Cornwallis man, said of Ferguson, “His ideas are 

so wild and sanguine . . . it would be dangerous to trust him with the conduct 

of any plan.” In spite of these challenges, Ferguson approached his mission 

with diligence.45

The British formed other battalions of Loyalist militia along the extensive 

Broad River to Cheraw line, but many of them proved weak or not fully 

committed to taking on the responsibility for security. In some cases, they 

simply could not be trusted. One incident involved a whole regiment of 

Loyalists who defected to the Whig insurgency. The militia from the districts 

between the Enoree and Tyger rivers had previously served under Whig 

commander Col. Andrew Neel, who fled South Carolina when Charleston 

surrendered. A new Loyalist regiment was organized by Col. Mathew Floyd, 

who accepted former Whig officer John Lisle as second in command after 

he swore the oath of allegiance. However, as soon as the British completed 

issuing arms and ammunition to the regiment, Lisle led most of the men to 

join Whig Col. Thomas Sumter’s command near the Catawba.46 When Floyd 

later captured two deserters, he had them hung in accordance with Cornwallis’ 

order, which then prompted the remainder of the regiment to desert and join 

Sumter as well.47

 Those closer to the populace did not share the optimism of the senior 

commanders regarding the expected nature of Phase IV operations. Balfour 

reflected his frustration with the occupation when he wrote, 

44 Lt. Col. H. L. Landers, The Battle of Camden, South Carolina, August 16, 1780

(Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1929), pp. 31–33. 45 Ferguson appeared to face many of the same issues that U.S. military advisers are facing 

in Iraq today: halfhearted recruits who often do not show up for training or simply go home. 

A very good analysis of Ferguson’s challenges as an adviser can be found in John Buchanan, 

The Road to Guilford Courthouse: The American Revolution in the Carolinas (New York: John 

Wiley & Sons, 1997), pp. 202–04. 46 Tarleton, History of the Campaigns, p. 93. 47 Pancake, Destructive War, p. 82; Cornwallis to Clinton, 6 Aug 1780, in Tarleton, History 

of the Campaigns, p. 126.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 45

Things are by no means, in any sort of settled state, nor are our friends, so 

numerous as I expected, from Saluda to Savannah river, almost the whole 

district . . . are disaffected and although at present overawed by the presence of the troops, yet are ready to rise on the smallest change—as to their 

disarming it is a joke they have given in only useless arms and keep their 

good ones.48

A Plea for Fortifications at Augusta

Colonel Brown probably held a more realistic view than Cornwallis of 

the challenges facing the British occupation during the summer of 1780. 

Fortifications were foremost in Brown’s mind as he sought to ensure Augusta’s 

defense and to protect supplies from any potential Whig raid, which he believed 

was almost certain given the volatility of the region.49 Brown requested 

funding and materials from Cornwallis in order to build a suitable fortification. 

He sought support from Balfour at Ninety-Six, who emphasized Augusta’s 

strategic importance in a letter to Cornwallis, in which he stated,

As to the post at Augusta . . . it has been and will continue to be the depot for 

the Indian business, and . . . is a support to this post, and here, I am clear, a 

force ought to be kept. . . . I conceive a small work will be necessary, as it 

is so straggling a village and as there are guns and necessarys on the spot. I 

should think a work for two hundred men perfectly sufficient with Barracks, 

and they have six four-pounders on the spot.50

In spite of these appeals by commanders intimately familiar with the 

military, political, and social concerns of their areas of occupation, Cornwallis 

rebuffed their request. In a 3 July reply to Balfour, he specifically forbade the 

construction of any permanent wood or brick fortification structures at either 

Ninety-Six or Augusta and instead authorized only earthen fieldworks as a 

measure of economy.51 Cornwallis’ response reflected his growing irritation 

at many similar requests he had received from Georgia Royal Governor Sir 

James Wright, who had pleaded throughout the summer for more troops, 

supplies, funding, and permanent fortifications to secure Georgia. Cornwallis 

told Wright, “So long as we are in Possession of the whole Power and Force of 

South Carolina, the Province of Georgia has the most ample and Satisfactory 

48 Quoted in Pancake, Destructive War, p. 81. 49 Many histories of the Revolution wrongly identify Fort Cornwallis as this structure at this 

time. In reality, there were no forts, just fortified houses, such as Grierson’s. Fort Cornwallis 

did not exist and Fort Augusta was more a memory than a physical structure. Augusta in 

summer 1780 had no physical defenses. After these events, during fall 1780, Fort Cornwallis 

would be built. 50 Balfour to Cornwallis, 24 Jun 1780, 30/11/2, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 191–96, BPRO.

51 Cornwallis to Balfour, 3 Jul 1780, 30/11/78, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 3–4, BPRO.
46 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Protection by maintaining a Post at Savannah and another at Augusta, nor can 

I think myself justified in incurring any further expence on the Army Accounts 

for the Protection of Georgia.”52 Cornwallis’ assessment perhaps reflected his 

desire to focus resources on his next objective, North Carolina. He saw what 

he wanted to see rather than acknowledging a realistic understanding of just 

what his forces faced in the backcountry. As a result, Brown’s garrison at 

Augusta made do with inadequate fortification in case of attack.

To men like Brown, hope was not a method, as he knew the paroled Whig 

Rebels held uncertain levels of commitment to the oath of allegiance they 

had submitted to in June. In Wilkes County alone, he knew of more than five 

hundred former Whig Rebels who grudgingly had accepted that their cause 

was lost. These, along with the hard-core Rebels, concerned Brown. 

On 1 July, the “de-Whigification” of Georgia began when Governor 

Wright signed the Disqualifying Act, which named and barred 151 leaders 

of the rebellion who had held office under the Whig government from any 

position in the restored royal government. This act also prohibited former 

officials from owning firearms, and they could be arrested and brought before 

a magistrate to swear allegiance to Great Britain. Anyone not complying with 

this act could be fined, imprisoned, or impressed into the Royal Navy.53 Wilkes 

County, Georgia, became a tinderbox waiting to ignite at the slightest hint of 

Whig strength or British weakness. 

Emergence of Tribal Leaders 

The policies of Clinton, Cornwallis, and Wright angered many Whigs, 

who believed they had no incentive to remain neutral. Without any organized 

Continental force to oppose the British, several Whigs emerged who sought to 

continue the fight as partisans or insurgents. These partisan leaders exhibited 

an influence grounded in local social affiliations, genealogical relationships, 

and strong personalities, which gave them an almost tribal leadership role that 

inspired men to follow them. One observer commented on the nature of the 

backcountry people to follow either Whig or Loyalist regional leaders in this 

way, “But remove the personal influence of the few and they are [a] lifeless, 

inanimate mass, without direction or spirit to employ the means they possess 

for their own security.”54 The measure of success for these men was their ability 

to attract others to the ranks and retain them for operations primarily through 

their ability to persuade others, either through appeal to their patriotism, greed, 

vanity, or need for survival.55

52 Cornwallis to Wright, 18 Jul 1780, in Manuscript, Colonial Records of Georgia, 38, pt. 

2, pp. 413–14. 53 Cashin and Robertson, Augusta and the American Revolution, p. 43. 54 Nathanael Greene quoted in Pancake, Destructive War, p. 92. 55 Pancake, Destructive War, p. 93.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 47

One of these men, Francis Marion, had served as a lieutenant colonel 

in the South Carolina Continental line but had been absent at the capture of 

Charleston. He gathered as many men as he could into a small detachment 

that lived in the swamps north of Charleston and operated east of the WatereeSantee-Catawba river line. Marion assumed the role as the “swamp fox,” 

attacking the British supply lines from Charleston to the backcountry and 

using his proximity to the main British base to gather intelligence and pass it 

to the other leaders. 

Colonel Sumter had previously resigned from the Continental Army and 

retired to his plantation near Statesburgh, when a raiding force from Tarleton’s 

command burned his home. Sumter, known as the Gamecock, assumed the most 

prominent role during the summer of 1780, effectively raising large numbers of 

Whigs to fight in the insurgency against the British. Often supporting Sumter 

was one of the most aggressive of these tribal leaders, Elijah Clarke of Georgia, 

who had never accepted parole and energetically continued resistance in the 

backcountry of Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina. He often teamed 

with James McCall of South Carolina. 

Absent from the fighting during summer 1780 was Andrew Pickens, the 

South Carolina militia colonel who had accepted the British parole in good 

faith. However, he would later emerge as the most influential backcountry 

leader after the British burned his plantation in November 1780. Pickens 

already enjoyed a reputation as a successful partisan because of campaigns 

against the Cherokee Indians in 1776 and his victory over the Loyalists at 

Kettle Creek, Georgia, in 1779. 

These Whig partisan leaders, either working alone or in loose collaboration 

with each other, provided stubborn and violent resistance in a region that had been 

paralyzed by the British victory. They continually fanned the spirit of revolt in 

the occupied areas and fought a relentless and savage war against their Loyalist 

neighbors. War in the backcountry was without quarter, and the intensity of the 

violence stunned outsiders such as Nathanael Greene, who later said, “The whole 

country is in danger of being laid waste by the Whigs and Tories who pursue 

each other with as much relentless fury as beasts of prey.”56

Insurgents Versus Occupiers—Summer 1780

During July–September 1780, the tinderbox designed by British policies 

and actions could no longer contain the tension between the Whigs, Loyalists, 

Indians, and British. A civil war erupted that crossed religious, social, 

economic, and family boundaries and signaled a new phase for British military 

operations. Each side watched closely for reaction to events, for success or 

defeat would impact the psychology of participants and either encourage or 

56 Louis D. F. Frasche, “Problems of Command: Cornwallis, Partisans and Militia, 1780,” 

Military Review (April 1977): 60–74.
48 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

depress support for either faction. Hearts and minds were the goals of each side 

during that time. Space and time do not allow for a detailed study of important 

battles; the following is an abbreviated description of those events.57

On 12 July at Williamson’s Plantation, five hundred Whigs from Sumter’s 

command surrounded and surprised South Carolina Loyalist Capt. Christian 

Huck, leading a detachment of 115 men from Tarleton’s British Legion. The 

Loyalists were routed and Huck was killed, along with thirty-five of his men 

and over fifty wounded. The same day, fifty miles west near Cedar Springs, 

South Carolina, Whig Col. John Thomas, commanding the Spartan regiment, 

received warning of an impending attack from a woman who had learned of it 

while visiting Ninety-Six. When the detachment of Ferguson’s men attacked 

Thomas, they ran into a prepared ambush and lost about thirty killed. The 

fighting continued the next day near Gowen’s Old Fort, South Carolina, where 

Col. John Jones, leading Georgia Whigs to join a Whig force in North Carolina, 

attacked the remaining Loyalists retreating from Cedar Springs. Without 

central direction, three different Whig columns, each acting independently, 

engaged and defeated two separate Loyalist forces. In three days of fighting in 

the region just south of the North Carolina border, the Whigs had killed over 

ninety Loyalists while suffering about sixty casualties.58

On 25 July 1780, Maj. Gen. Horatio Gates assumed command of the 

Southern Department in North Carolina and began to organize Continental and 

militia forces to prove that the Continental Congress had not yet written off 

the South. Knowing that help was on the way, on 30 July Sumter maintained 

pressure on British bases by attacking Rocky Mount, held by Loyalist Lt. 

Col. George Turnbull. Turnbull refused to surrender, and Sumter attacked 

the fortified position three times but was repulsed with loss of about fifteen 

men. That same day, Lt. Col. William Davie and his North Carolina Whigs 

ambushed several companies of North Carolina Royalists on their movement 

to the British base near Hanging Rock. They killed or wounded most of the 

Loyalists, and Davie captured the weapons and horses of the enemy. A week 

later, on 6 August, Sumter joined Davie with over 800 men to attack almost 

1,400 men of the British garrison at Hanging Rock. The battle of Hanging Rock 

lasted over four hours, with heavy casualties suffered on both sides. When 

many of his men stopped to loot one of the British camps, and, running low 

on ammunition, Sumter withdrew, leaving the base in British hands.59 By the 

first week in August, Cornwallis’ occupying army had been attacked nearly 

a dozen times by insurgents who had killed or wounded nearly five hundred 

57 More detailed descriptions can be found in secondary accounts such as Pancake, 

Destructive War, pp. 91–107; Gordon, South Carolina, pp. 89–111; Lumpkin, Savannah to 

Yorktown, pp. 264–68; Buchanan, Road to Guilford, pp. 104–208. 58 Pancake, Destructive War, pp. 96–97. 59 Lumpkin, Savannah to Yorktown, pp. 264–65. See Rpt, Cornwallis to Clinton, 6 Aug 

1780, in Tarleton, History of the Campaigns, pp. 126–28. 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 49

of his men.60 Though the British had much presence, with detachments in 

dozens of forward bases throughout the region, that presence did not translate 

into control. In fact, they had moved into areas where Whig support was the 

strongest.

On 7 August, Lt. Col. John Harris Cruger, Balfour’s replacement at 

Ninety-Six, reported intelligence to Cornwallis that Elijah Clarke was raising 

a force of several hundred men in Wilkes County, Georgia. Cruger requested 

that Cornwallis send additional troops to Augusta to augment Brown’s 

command.61 However, Cornwallis had other matters to contend with, as Gates 

made his appearance in South Carolina with a Continental force of men from 

Delaware and Maryland. On 16 August, Cornwallis encountered Gates and 

his army just north of Camden on the old Waxhaws road. There, in a decisive 

battle, Cornwallis defeated Gates’ army, which suffered a loss of almost seven 

hundred men. To many British, Loyalists, and Whigs, the British victory at 

Camden appeared to have destroyed another American army and the last gasp 

of Rebel resistance.

Following the disaster at Camden, Sumter pulled back his command to 

regroup near Fishing Creek. Tarleton had picked up Sumter’s trail and drove 

his dragoons forward. On 18 August, Tarleton caught Sumter and eight hundred 

of his men by complete surprise as they either rested or bathed in the river. 

Sumter escaped, but he lost about 150 men killed and 300 captured.62 That 

same day, Musgrove’s Mill on the Enoree River witnessed one of the most 

violent skirmishes of the summer. There, Col. Isaac Shelby, with a detachment 

of frontier riflemen, teamed with Elijah Clarke of Georgia and James Williams 

of South Carolina to attack a Loyalist unit commanded by Col. Alexander 

Innes. Employing a ruse to bait the Loyalists into pursuit, Innes’ force left 

the post at Musgrove’s Mill and crossed the Enoree River, right into a trap. 

Innes fell wounded, and his men were badly defeated, with about 150 killed 

and wounded and 70 captured.

Francis Marion also kept the British busy near the swamps close to 

Charleston. On 20 August at Nelson’s Ferry, Marion attacked a British column 

escorting several hundred Whig prisoners from Camden to Charleston. Marion 

captured or killed about two dozen British troops and freed 150 of the Maryland 

Continentals, many of whom joined him to continue the war against the enemy. 

A few weeks later, on 4 September, Marion struck again and ambushed a 

detachment of British near a swamp island called Blue Savannah.

The intensity of the warfare surprised Cornwallis, while the combat 

performance of the Loyalist militia disappointed him. Within about six weeks 

there had been over fifteen skirmishes and battles between Loyalists and 

Whigs in South Carolina, often including fighters from Georgia and North 

60 Pancake, Destructive War, p. 98. 61 Cruger to Cornwallis, 7 Aug 1780, 30/11/63, Cornwallis Papers, p. 22, BPRO. 62 Gordon, South Carolina, pp. 94–95. 
50 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Carolina. This convinced Cornwallis that the backcountry presented a single 

operational problem and that the occupation of South Carolina depended 

upon subduing the North Carolina piedmont as well as stopping the further 

incursion by insurgents from the north. However, the British effort to support 

the Loyalists to take control had stretched forces so thin that the Whigs could 

strike at will anywhere along the chain of forward operating bases and the 

lines of communication to Charleston. Cornwallis was convinced that the 

best defense of South Carolina was to carry out offensive operations into 

North Carolina. 

Clarke Prepares to Attack Forward Operating Base Augusta

Colonel Clarke had spent July and August moving through the upper 

backcountry of Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina to participate in 

any opportunity to fight the British forces. The action at Musgrove’s Mill on 

18 August 1780 cemented his reputation as a hard, courageous fighter, and 

Clarke hoped to raise a force of over one thousand men to strike at Augusta 

and Ninety-Six. He asked his companion in these efforts, Colonel McCall, 

to recruit among the South Carolina men and bring them to a rendezvous 

forty miles northwest of Augusta in early September.63 Recruiting insurgents 

proved a problem for both Clarke and McCall—the impact of Gates’ defeat 

at Camden once again turned events in British favor. McCall appealed 

to Pickens to support the continued resistance effort of Clarke; however, 

Pickens rebuffed him with the argument that the paroles they had accepted 

were binding unless a violation occurred to justify breaking those bonds of 

honor. As a result, McCall could only persuade about eighty men to join in 

operations with Clarke.64

Clarke, however, was more successful, mainly because his pleas for men 

were accompanied by threats. Joshua Burnett, one of those who “volunteered” 

to join Clarke recalled that “[Clarke] sent word to those who had so surrendered, 

that if they did not meet him at a certain noted Spring in a wilderness, . . . he 

would put every one of them to death.”65 These recruiting incentives resulted 

in about 350 men joining Clarke along with the 80 that McCall was bringing 

for a total of about 430 men. 

Clarke decided to attack Augusta to demonstrate that the rebellion in 

Georgia was not defeated. He also hoped to seize presents and supplies for 

the Indians stored at Augusta. Finally, many of his men would welcome an 

opportunity to attack many of the Cherokee and Creek Indians moving along 

the trails to Augusta.66

63 McCall, History of Georgia, p. 482. 64 Ibid. 

65 Joshua Burnett, “The Pension Claim of Joshua Burnett,” ed. Edward J. Cashin, Richmond 

County History 10 (Winter 1978): 16. 66 McCall, History of Georgia, p. 483.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 51

While Clarke gathered his partisans, about 250 Creek Indians, led by 

Little Prince of the Tuckabatchees, answered Brown’s call to join forces 

with the British at Augusta.67 There, Brown’s provincial troops consisted 

of his battalion of the King’s Carolina Rangers, which numbered about 250 

men.68 He stationed one company of rangers at the Mackay trading post, a 

white stone structure, where they guarded the Indian presents and supplies. 

He placed his command post and the other ranger companies about a mile 

and a half east at Loyalist James Grierson’s fortified house and St. Paul’s 

church. In addition, Brown had a small detachment of about twenty-seven 

men from Lt. Col. Isaac Allen’s 3d Battalion, New Jersey Volunteers, who 

were recovering from wounds received at Musgrove’s Mill.69 Brown also had 

at least two brass artillery pieces, probably three-pounders. Along with the 

Indians, Brown commanded about five hundred effective soldiers scattered 

about the Augusta area. 

Brown Versus Clarke—Siege of FOB Augusta

(14–18 September 1780)

On 14 September 1780, Clarke approached the unsuspecting Loyalists and 

Indians by dividing his command into three elements to attack from different 

directions.70 By using this tactic, Clarke hoped to surprise the superior force, 

seize key supplies, and kill or capture as many Indians and Loyalists as possible. 

Early in the morning, Maj. Samuel Taylor began the attack and surprised the 

Creeks in their camp just outside of the town. It did not take long for Brown 

to be alerted, and he immediately dispatched his rangers, along with two small 

pieces of artillery, toward the direction of the fighting. While Brown moved 

to support the Indians, Clarke and McCall entered Augusta and released more 

than seventy Rebels who had been in jail; seized Indian presents valued at 

£4,000; and liberated much of the arms and ammunition that had been turned 

over previously by surrendering Whig forces.71 Clarke then moved toward the 

67 Cashin, The King’s Ranger, p. 114. 68 This is an approximation based on the strength figures for the King’s Carolina Rangers 

from muster rolls dated 29 November 1779 at Savannah and cited in Cashin, The King’s 

Ranger, app. Muster Rolls, King’s Rangers, pp. 249–93. The rolls from Savannah in late 1779 

provide the closest known strength for the assigned companies of Thomas Brown (64); Capt. 

Andrew Johnston (62); Capt. Joseph Smith (61); Capt. Alexander Wylly (42); and Capt. Samuel 

Rowarth (41). The actual number fit to fight is unknown, but both Tarleton and Henry Lee state 

in their memoirs that Brown had about 150 provincials in the fight. See Tarleton, History of the 

Campaigns, p. 161, and Lee, War in the Southern Department, p. 199. 69 Cashin and Robertson, Augusta and the American Revolution, n163, pp. 95–96. See 

also New Jersey Volunteer Return, 30/11/103, Cornwallis Papers, folio 4, BPRO. Available 

at the On-Line Institute for Advanced Loyalist Studies, www.royalprovincial.com/military/

rhist/njv/njvretn3.htm. 70 McCall, History of Georgia, p. 483; Cashin, The King’s Ranger, p. 115. 71 Louis Frederick Hayes, Hero of the Hornet’s Nest: A Biography of Elijah Clarke (New 

York, 1946), p. 100. 
52 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Mackay house, where his men engaged Capt. Andrew Johnston’s company 

and gained possession of the house and all of the supplies.72

Meanwhile, Brown had joined the battle with his rangers and soon found 

himself caught fighting Taylor’s forces bearing down the Creek path from the 

west and Clarke’s forces behind him to the east.73 The Loyalist attack inflicted 

several casualties on the Whigs, who were beaten back and driven from the 

house and surrounding outbuildings. In the confusion of the fight, however, 

some of Clarke’s men had used the cover of brush to move around a flank 

and capture one of the Loyalists’ cannons.74 Clarke managed to direct fire on 

Brown’s position at the Mackay house until early afternoon, then many of his 

men quietly departed the battle to seek plunder from Augusta. 

Brown used this pause in action to improve his defensive position. Since 

the house was too small to hold the rangers and the Creeks, he directed the 

Indians to dig earthworks around the perimeter to improve their position. 

Brown ordered Loyalist Sir Patrick Houstoun (brother of John Houstoun, 

Whig governor of Georgia) to Ninety-Six with a message for Cruger to send 

assistance to help drive off the Rebels.75 By nightfall, Brown and his men 

were well-established in a good defensive position and were prepared to 

meet a renewed Rebel attack. Early the next morning, about fifty Cherokees 

crossed the Savannah River and joined Brown’s forces at the trading post. 

Brown continued to send written updates to Cruger while his men continued 

to improve their defensive positions.76 In his message to Cruger, Brown stated, 

“I shall defend my post to the last extremity.”77

About noon, the Rebels opened fire with artillery, which did some damage 

to the Mackay house. Clarke also directed rifle and small arms fire during a 

fusillade in which Brown was hit in both thighs by a rifle bullet. Though he 

was knocked down and in great pain, Brown continued to direct the defense.78

By early evening on 15 September, dead and wounded men covered the area 

surrounding the British position. At Ninety-Six, Cruger received the message 

about the attack and sent a report to Cornwallis about the emergency.79 At 

Augusta, Clarke sent Brown a message under a white flag demanding that he 

surrender, but Brown rejected the demand, promising that Clarke’s actions 

would bring retribution to him, his followers, and their families. With that final 

72 Cashin, The King’s Ranger, p. 115. 73 This location today is approximately where Eve and Broad Streets meet. The Ezekiel 

Harris house sits on the northeast slope of what remains of Garden Hill. 74 Cashin, The King’s Ranger, p. 116. 75 Lt Col Thomas Brown to Lt. Col. John Harris Cruger, 15 Sep 1780, 30/11/64, Cornwallis 

Papers, pp. 65–66, BPRO. 76 This number reflects all potential Crown strength in Augusta at this time and includes 

those fit for duty, wounded, missing, absent (such as messengers), and dead. 77 Brown to Cruger, 15 Sep 1780, 30/11/64, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 65–66, BPRO. 78 Cashin, King’s Ranger, p. 116. 79 Cruger to Cornwallis, 15–16 Sep 1780, 30/11/64, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 67–68, BPRO. 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 53

rejection, the Whigs opened up with a burst of fire upon the Loyalist position 

and continued the firing throughout the night. 

The siege of Augusta continued through 17 September. Brown conducted 

his defense under extremely aggravating conditions due to the heat and lack of 

food and water. Though only a few hundred yards from the Savannah River, 

the British were cut off by the Rebels from all sources of water. In a decision 

that reflected imagination, resolve, and desperation, Brown ordered his men 

to preserve their urine in some stoneware. When the urine became cold it was 

issued out to the men, with Brown himself taking the first drink. For food, 

all the Loyalists had to eat were raw pumpkins. Added to these discomforts 

was the stench of dead men and horses and the wailing cries of the wounded 

calling for water and aid.80 During all this time, Brown, whose wounds grew 

more aggravating, continued, “at the head of his small gallant band, directing 

his defence, and animating his troops by presence and example.”81

Meanwhile, at Ninety-Six, Cruger had departed with a relief force during 

the morning of 16 September. Marching toward Augusta was his first battalion 

of Delancy’s New York provincials; a detachment from Colonel Allen’s 

3d Battalion, New Jersey Volunteers; and Colonel Innes’ South Carolina 

Royalists, a force of about three hundred men.82 It would take Cruger almost 

forty-eight hours to reach Augusta and assist Brown. During this time, Clarke’s 

already small force may have been reduced to about two hundred men who 

still focused on the mission, as many others sought plunder in the town. 

At about 0800 hours on 18 September, Cruger’s column appeared within 

sight of Augusta. The arrival of three hundred fresh Loyalists was enough 

to induce many Rebels to flee from the battlefield. Brown ordered his troops 

to sally out from their works to capture any stragglers. By that time, Clarke 

decided he had accomplished all he could and ordered his men to break off the 

engagement and rendezvous at Dennis Mill on the Little River.83 Clarke and his 

men had to run for their lives and, as Brown had promised, the consequence of 

his insurrection would affect the homes and families of those who had chosen 

to participate in the attack upon the British base. 

Due to their exhausted physical condition after four days of siege, Brown’s 

rangers were unable to pursue the Rebels far, but they did manage to recover the 

artillery and capture several wounded Rebels. The Creeks and Cherokees moved 

quickly to capture and kill as many of the Rebel stragglers as they could, along 

with seizing horses and weapons. In the end, Brown and Cruger’s combined 

80 Jones, History of Georgia, p. 457. 81 An unusual admirer of Brown was Lt. Col. Henry “Lighthorse Harry” Lee, who often 

wrote of his enemy’s tenacity, courage, and determination in glowing terms. Lee, War in the 

Southern Department, pp. 199–200. 82 Cruger to Cornwallis, 16 Sep 1780, 30/11/64, Cornwallis Papers, BPRO.

83 Cashin, King’s Ranger, p. 118.; Hayes, Hero of Hornet’s Nest, p. 101.
54 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

forces had killed or wounded about sixty of Clarke’s men.84 The Loyalists lost an 

unknown number killed and the Indians lost about seventy killed in the action.85

Cruger reported to Cornwallis on 19 September, “I got here yesterday morning. 

. . . I am now sending out patrols of horse to pick up the traitorous rebels of the 

neighborhood, who I purpose to send to Charles Town.”86

Hangings at the “White House”

Perhaps the most well-known incident related to this battle concerned 

the fate of the Whig prisoners. In accordance with Cornwallis’ policy about 

those who broke their parole and took up arms, the Loyalist commanders 

were compelled to take action toward thirteen of the captured men. They 

hanged Captain Ashby from McCall’s South Carolina militia and twelve 

others from an outside staircase of the Mackay house for having participated 

in the recent battle.87

Whig histories have turned this event into a “Waxhaws” of sorts for 

Brown, and it has tainted, deservedly or not, his reputation. South Carolina 

Governor John Rutledge even used the “Thomas Brown defense” to justify 

executing Loyalist prisoners following the Battle of King’s Mountain.88

Nineteenth-century historians such as Charles Jones described how Brown’s 

injuries dictated that the Rebels be “hung upon the staircase of the White 

House, where Brown was lying wounded, that he might enjoy the demoniacal 

pleasure of gloating over their expiring agonies.”89 Hugh McCall, son of James 

McCall, described Brown as having “the satisfaction of seeing the victims of 

his vengeance expire.”90 However, these descriptions appear contradictory to 

Brown’s character and career. In fact, a strong case can be made that Cruger 

ordered enforcement of law and supervised the hangings, as Brown would have 

been incapacitated, having suffered from the stress of command during four 

days of siege, painful wounds in both legs, and having subsisted on a diet of 

84 Known Whig dead included Capt. Charles Jourdine, Capt. William Martin, Absalom 

Horn, William Luckie, and Major Carter. 85 Among the known dead of the Loyalists were Capt. Andrew Johnston and Ensign Silcox 

of the rangers. 86 Cruger to Cornwallis, 19 Sep 1780, 30/11/64, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 104–05, BPRO.

87 The list of names and their spellings varies in the sources. I have chosen to rely on the 

list supplied by Cashin in footnote 48, p. 315, of King’s Ranger. McCall cites as his sources 

British officers who witnessed this event and had “exultingly communicated it” to their friends 

in Savannah, Charleston, and London. McCall, History of Georgia, p. 487. 88 Rutledge said, “It is said (and I believe it) that of the Prisoners whom Brown took at 

Augusta, he gave up four to the Indians who killed em, cut off their Heads and kicked their 

bodies about the Streets and that he (Brown) hung upwards of 30 prisoners” (cited in Cashin, 

King’s Ranger, p. 120). 89 Jones, History of Georgia, p. 458. 90 McCall, History of Georgia, p. 486. 
Southern (Dis)Comfort 55

pumpkins and urine.91 If it was in fact Brown, gleeful or not, he ensured the 

enforcement of Cornwallis’ policy.

Loyalist Retribution Against Georgia Whigs

Governor Wright’s concern about the state of military security in Georgia 

was confirmed by the Whig attack upon Augusta, which demonstrated that the 

“the Spirit and Flame of Rebellion was not over.” He again urged construction 

of proper defensive fortifications at Augusta. In addition, he advised British 

military leaders that “the most Effectual and Best Method of Crushing the 

Rebellion in the Back Parts of this Country, is for an Army to march without 

Loss of time into the Ceded Lands—and to lay Waste and Destroy the whole 

Territory.”92

Cruger took command of subsequent operations to hunt down the remnants 

of Clarke’s force and discourage another such insurrection. On 20 September, 

he received intelligence that Clarke had retreated as far north as the Little River, 

where he was regrouping for another attack on Augusta after the British moved 

back to Ninety-Six. Cruger decided to take the fight directly into the backcountry 

and sent detachments in all directions to mete out frontier justice to the insurgents, 

their families, and any others who demonstrated sympathy for the Whig cause.

By 23 September, Cruger’s force had reached John Dooley’s farm about 

forty-five miles north of Augusta, but, by then, Clarke had already crossed 

north across the Broad River into South Carolina. Following Wright’s advice, 

the Loyalists under Cruger inflicted a terrible retribution for Clarke’s attack. 

In Wilkes County, the courthouse was burned, frontier forts destroyed, and 

over one hundred Whig homes were burned, their property plundered, and 

livestock driven off. The families of the men who had joined Clarke were 

given a choice of leaving the colony within twenty-four hours or taking an oath 

and submitting to the royal government.93 As he pursued the Rebels, Cruger 

ordered many arrests. Whigs who had been on parole were arrested and sent 

to Charleston for confinement.94 By the time Cruger reached the Broad River 

on 28 September, he could find no trace of the Rebels, who had fled toward 

the mountains of North Carolina.

After leaving Augusta, Clarke and the remnants of his followers scattered 

to their homes to gather their families and prepare to leave Georgia for refuge 

in North Carolina. At an appointed rendezvous, over three hundred men and 

four hundred women and children met for the arduous journey, carrying only 

five days of supplies. One historian characterized this event, “Like Moses 

91 Cashin makes an important point that officers, such as Henry Lee, expressed admiration 

for Brown in their memoirs, which perhaps reflects a contemporary view of reality rather than 

postwar myth (Cashin, King’s Ranger, p. 120). 92 Cited in Robertson, Second British Occupation, p. 435. 93 Cashin and Robertson, Augusta and the American Revolution, p. 50. 94 McCall, History of Georgia, pp. 488–89.
56 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

from Egypt . . . Colonel Clark commenced a march of near two hundred miles, 

through a mountainous wilderness,” to reach the Watauga Valley.95 Cruger 

reported Clarke’s flight toward North Carolina to Cornwallis, who directed 

Major Ferguson, with his 1,100-man Loyalist force operating in western South 

Carolina, to intercept Clarke. Ferguson eventually established a position at 

King’s Mountain to block Clarke and to discourage further rebellion in that 

region. Clarke, however, escaped, and Ferguson was surprised by a force of 

three thousand “over-mountain” men, who attacked his position on 7 October 

in one of the most decisive battles of the war.96 Later, Cornwallis wrote Clinton 

about Ferguson’s defeat at King’s Mountain, stating, “Maj. Ferguson was 

tempted to stay near the mountains longer than he intended, in hopes of cutting 

off Col. Clarke on his return from Georgia. He was not aware that the enemy 

was so near him, and in endeavoring to execute my orders of . . . joining me 

at Charlottetown, he was attacked by a very superior force & totally defeated 

at King’s Mountain.”97 For Cornwallis and the men of the British forces, the 

war had entered a new phase that replaced the optimism that had characterized 

their operations only a few months earlier. King’s Mountain signified a turning 

point in the war in the South and reflected that the assumptions of operating in 

the southern theater needed to be reassessed by the British leadership. 

Significance of May–September 1780

The British experience in attempting to conduct Phase IV operations 

during the summer of 1780 reflected either complexities and challenges 

they failed to understand or a hubris that could not conceive of such events. 

At its heart, the occupation plan may have been sound militarily, but it did 

not adequately consider how the events of 1776–1780 had fractured beyond 

repair the relationships between the Loyalists and the Whigs. To mend that rift 

would have required occupation policies designed to address the grievances 

of each side so that resentment did not boil into civil war. Clinton’s policies 

did not accomplish that objective and instead may be identified as one of the 

fundamental causes of the internecine war that began in July 1780. In lieu of 

policies to mitigate resentment, the presence of larger numbers of British troops 

was needed if for nothing more than to protect the Loyalists and to convince 

the Whigs of the futility of further resistance. Instead, stability of local areas 

was determined by the presence or absence of British troops. Because the 

limited British forces were spread out into small detachments occupying a vast 

network of forward operating bases, they were open to insurgent attacks, such 

as occurred at Augusta. Though the British had much presence throughout 

the region, they did not have the level of control that encouraged widespread 

95 McCall, History of Georgia, pp. 490–91. 96 Cashin and Robertson, Augusta and the American Revolution, p. 50. 97 Cornwallis to Clinton, 3 Dec 1780, 30/11/72, Cornwallis Papers, pp. 57–64, BPRO.
Southern (Dis)Comfort 57

support by those who were at best lukewarm in their support of the Crown. 

Without that assurance, declaring loyalty exposed one to a potential death 

sentence at the hands of Whigs. 

The battles that summer by Whig insurgents reflected the tribal nature of 

the region, as men like Marion, Sumter, and Clarke rallied men to their cause 

to disrupt and discredit British reconstruction efforts. Not helping the British 

cause was a weak system for recruiting and training Loyalist militia, whose 

performance may have reflected the lack of adequate British forces to help 

train and bolster their self-confidence. Men like Brown, Wright, Balfour, and 

Cruger, who understood the volatility of the region, were refused resources 

they needed because their views did not fit into preconceived notions for the 

overall campaign.

The example of Augusta may not seem all that significant in the greater 

scope of the American Revolution; however, one result was a changed outlook 

in the backcountry on the part of both Loyalists and Whigs. In one sense, 

Clarke’s attack was a ringing endorsement of the arguments made by Wright, 

Brown, Balfour, and Cruger. Clarke opened Cornwallis’ eyes regarding the 

need of fortifications at Augusta, something Brown could never accomplish no 

matter how rational his argument. After Clarke’s attack, the gloves came off, 

and Cruger directed a punitive expedition into the backcountry against persons 

and property identified with the Rebel cause. The Loyalists were not going to 

allow an attack like that to happen again against a key British operating base. 

The action at Augusta also exercised the working relationships of the Loyalist 

commanders, who saw their roles as mutually supporting reaction forces who 

would come to each other’s aid in checking any Rebel operations. 

On the other hand, the Whig cause may have gained momentum in some 

respects due to the post-battle events. The execution of Rebel prisoners, 

regardless of the legality of the sentence, served the Whig cause far beyond 

the vicinity of Augusta. The Whig press and information network spread 

the news of this event, painting Brown as the devil incarnate, an example of 

the barbaric British occupation, and justification for retaliation in kind for 

Loyalist prisoners. Such an event, while demoralizing in one sense, served to 

harden the resolution of many Whigs, certainly those related to the men and 

their families who suffered retaliation for the attack upon Augusta. When 

Clarke and the hundreds of displaced men, women, and children made their 

way through Georgia, South Carolina, and into North Carolina, their status 

as refugees served as a further example of the cruelty inflicted by Loyalist 

punitive actions. All of these aspects may have contributed to making more 

Rebels in the backcountry rather than convincing people to declare loyalty 

to the Crown. 

Finally, because Clarke and his Georgians fled to North Carolina, Patrick 

Ferguson was ordered to intercept the Rebels as they retreated to the mountains. 

However, instead of Clarke, he found an assembly of militia from Western 

Virginia and North Carolina, who turned their sights on him at a place called 
58 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

King’s Mountain. King’s Mountain was the culmination of events of the 

summer of 1780 that reflected the British failure to understand the complex 

cultural, political, social, and psychological nature of the enemy they were 

fighting. The Whigs successfully disrupted British Phase IV efforts to build 

a secure and stable environment by striking at their weak points, intimidating 

their neighbors through threats and violence, and portraying the British and 

Loyalist forces as killers of the innocent. The reasons for their success are 

reflected in the words of T. E. Lawrence, who later said, 

Rebellion must have an unassailable base, . . . in the minds of the men we 

converted to our creed. It must have a sophisticated alien enemy, in the form 

of a disciplined army of occupation too small to fulfill the doctrine of acreage. 

. . . It must have a friendly population, not actively friendly, but sympathetic 

to the point of not betraying rebel movements to the enemy. Rebellions can 

be made by 2 per cent active in a striking force, and 98 per cent passively 

sympathetic. . . . Granted mobility, security, time, and doctrine, victory will 

rest with the insurgents.98

98 T. E. Lawrence, “The Evolution of a Revolt,” Army Quarterly and Defense Journal

(October 1920), repr., Leavenworth, Kans.: Combat Studies Institute, 1999. 
When Freedom Wore a Red Coat: How 

Cornwallis’ 1781 Virginia Campaign 

Threatened the Revolution in Virginia

Gregory J. W. Urwin

Nearly every schoolchild in the United States has heard of the siege of 

Yorktown. It was the decisive battle that all but ended the military phase of 

the American Revolution and guaranteed the thirteen colonies’ independence. 

Yorktown represents George Washington’s finest hour as a general and the 

crowning achievement of his ragged Continental Army. It was also the event 

that assured British Lt. Gen. Charles, Earl Cornwallis, an undeserved place 

on history’s list of famous losers, just as it furnished Americans with an 

exaggerated view of their martial prowess. President Ronald Reagan helped 

preside over the ceremonies marking the bicentennial of that pivotal event 

on 19 October 1981. This was Reagan’s first extended, open-air appearance 

since surviving an assassination attempt the previous March, but he rose to the 

occasion with the uplifting rhetoric that had already become his trademark. 

A crowd of 60,000 heard the president evoke the exultation felt by Patriots 

of Washington’s day when he called Yorktown “a victory for the right of 

self-determination. It was and is the affirmation that freedom will eventually 

triumph over tyranny.” Standing beside Reagan behind a massive shield 

of clear, bulletproof plastic, French President François Mitterrand politely 

echoed his host’s sentiments by proclaiming Yorktown “the first capital of 

human rights.”1

Few Americans would quarrel with Reagan’s and Mitterrand’s words. 

History, however, is a matter of perceptions, and sometimes those perceptions 

are too narrow. Such is the case with Yorktown. American scholars are generally so intent on memorializing Washington’s brilliant generalship during the 

Yorktown campaign that they ignore how close Cornwallis came to subduing 

Virginia.2 They also fail to see that there was a dark side to Washington’s 

1First quote from Time, 2 Nov 1981, p. 31. Second quote from Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk), 

20 Oct 1981. This paper is a slightly expanded and retitled version of the one read at the 

conference of Army historians held in Arlington, Virginia, in August 2007. Anomalies in 

spelling, punctuation, and capitalization found in the materials quoted in this article have been 

retained without comment. 2 Among the many triumphalist histories of the Yorktown campaign are Henry P. Johnson, 

The Yorktown Campaign and the Surrender of Cornwallis, 1781 (New York: Harper & Bros., 

1881); Thomas J. Fleming, Beat the Last Drum: The Siege of Yorktown, 1781 (New York: St. 
60 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

celebrated triumph. Yorktown meant liberty and independence for the majority 

of the young republic’s white citizens, but it signified something else for the 

500,000 blacks who lived in the United States in 1781. For most African 

Americans, Yorktown meant another eighty years of chattel slavery. And for 

many of the freedom-loving blacks who cast their lot with the British and 

joined Cornwallis in the summer of 1781, Yorktown became not merely the 

graveyard of their hopes, but of their mortal remains.

It seems unfair to say the British lost the Revolutionary War, for they never 

quite realized what they were up against. To George III and his advisers, the 

rebellion was a plot hatched by an evil minority, opportunistic demagogues who 

deluded the riffraff of the thirteen colonies into opposing lawful government. 

The British sincerely believed that most upstanding Americans remained loyal 

to their king. All that was required to quell the uprising was a show of force 

to discredit Rebel leaders and frighten America’s masses into resuming their 

proper allegiance.3

Since the British were out to win hearts and minds, they usually did not 

treat Americans with the same cruelty they reserved for rebels in Catholic 

Ireland or the Scottish Highlands. Unrestrained barbarism would cost the 

Crown potential American supporters and even alienate committed Loyalists. 

As the British were so sure the Revolution had no legitimate appeal, they did 

not act with the energy or ruthlessness that the situation warranted.4

Martin’s Press, 1963); Burke Davis, The Campaign That Won America: The Story of Yorktown

(New York: Dial Press, 1970); Joseph P. Cullen, October 19th, 1781: Victory at Yorktown

(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of the Interior, 1976); William H. Hallahan, The Day 

the Revolution Ended, 19 October 1781 (New York: Wiley, 2004); Benton Rain Patterson, 

Washington and Cornwallis: The Battle for America, 1775–1783 (Lanham, Md.: Taylor Trade 

Publishing, 2004); Richard M. Ketchum, Victory at Yorktown: The Campaign That Won the 

Revolution (New York: Henry Holt, 2004). A relatively recent drum-and-bugle account of 

the campaign with more of a British perspective is Brendan Morrissey, Yorktown 1781: The 

World Turned Upside Down (London: Osprey, 1997). The latest and most scholarly treatment 

of this subject is Jerome A. Greene, The Guns of Independence: The Siege of Yorktown, 1781

(New York: Savas Beatie, 2005). Unfortunately, Greene is unable to fully free himself of the 

triumphalist tendencies that influenced the work of his predecessors. 3Piers Mackesy, The War for America, 1775–1783 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University 

Press, 1964), pp. 12–61; Ira D. Gruber, The Howe Brothers and the American Revolution (New 

York: Atheneum, 1972), pp. 3–88; Paul H. Smith, Loyalists and Redcoats: A Study in British 

Revolutionary Policy (Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 1964), pp. 10–42; 

Troyer Steele Anderson, The Command of the Howe Brothers During the American Revolution

(New York: Oxford University Press, 1936), pp. 10–42; John Richard Alden, General Gage 

in America (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 1948), pp. 151–91, 205–50, 

287–98; Marshall Smelser, The Winning of Independence (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1972), 

pp. 58–117. 4 John Richard Alden, A History of the American Revolution (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 

1969), pp. 141–225; Frederick Mackenzie, Diary of Frederick Mackenzie, 2 vols. (1930; repr., 

New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 1968), 2:525–26; John Shy, A People Numerous 

and Armed: Reflections on the Military Struggle for American Independence (New York: 

Oxford University Press, 1976), pp. 202–22; Collections of the New-York Historical Society, 
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 61

The British set the basic pattern of the War of Independence during the 

1776 campaign in New York and New Jersey. Whenever one of the king’s 

generals wished to conquer a colony, he would head for its largest port, defeat 

whatever American army stood in his way, occupy his objective, establish 

a network of outlying outposts, and then wait for the Rebel cause to come 

unglued. That never happened. The beaten Continental forces would simply 

retire beyond easy reach, recruit themselves up to strength, and then take 

positions that threatened the enemy’s smaller and more isolated outposts 

with sudden capture. At the same time, inflamed local militia harassed British 

garrisons and foraging parties, giving the occupiers no rest and depriving 

them of any sense of security. Forced to concentrate to avoid defeat in detail, 

the British found themselves confined to a few major towns and living under 

virtual siege.5

With the Rebels controlling most of the countryside, Loyalists found it 

impossible to rise in decisive numbers. Any Tory who openly declared for the 

king risked the loss of his property, imprisonment, and possibly death. Rather 

than chance such perils, many Loyalists adopted a wait-and-see attitude. If 

the king’s regulars were victorious, loyal subjects would lose nothing by their 

silence while the issue teetered in the balance.6

To break the stalemate that came to characterize the American war, 

royal commanders seized more cities, but that strategy gained them 

nothing except worthless real estate. When a British army tried to divide 

the colonies by marching down the Hudson in 1777, it was trapped and 

forced to surrender at Saratoga. That stunning Rebel victory brought 

France into the war on the side of the United States, and Spain and the 

Netherlands soon followed suit. Britain now faced a world war, and it 

strained its military resources to the limit while endeavoring to safeguard 

a far-flung empire.7

Assured that vast numbers of Loyalists inhabited the South, the British 

decided to shift their operations to Georgia and the Carolinas. In May 1780, 

General Sir Henry Clinton, the commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s Forces 

in North America, captured Charleston, South Carolina, and more than six 

vols. 16–17, The Stephen Kemble Papers, 1773–1789 (New York: New York Historical Society, 

1883–84), 16:97–99, 263–64, 269–70, 287. 5 David Hackett Fischer, Washington’s Crossing (New York: Oxford University Press, 

2004), pp. 66–360; John W. Jackson, With the British Army in Philadelphia 1777–1778 (San 

Rafael, Calif.: Presidio Press, 1979), pp. 1–52, 81–106; Alden, American Revolution, pp. 

262–327; Gruber, Howe Brothers, pp. 389–93, 397–400; Mackenzie, Diary, 2:525. See also 

Wayne Bodle, The Valley Forge Winter: Civilians and Soldiers in War (University Park: 

Pennsylvania State University Press, 2002). 6Shy, People Numerous and Armed, pp. 211–22; Smith, Loyalists and Redcoats, pp. 36–37, 

60–77, 79–85, 115–21, 168–74. 7Sir Henry Clinton, The American Rebellion, ed. William B. Wilcox (New Haven, Conn.: 

Yale University Press, 1954), p. 86; Alden, American Revolution, pp. 284–327, 370–88.
62 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

thousand Patriot troops whose commander had opted foolishly to defend the 

doomed port.8

Clinton soon returned to his main base at New York City, leaving 

Cornwallis and 8,000 regulars to establish British rule in the Carolinas. 

Cornwallis was a robust forty-one years of age when he assumed this important 

command. He carried himself with the easy self-assurance that sprang from 

an aristocratic background and twenty-three years of military experience. The 

earl had been fighting the American Rebels since 1776, and he was esteemed 

as one of the king’s ablest and most aggressive generals.9

At the outset, Cornwallis’ mission in the Carolinas seemed easy. The 

capture of an entire Continental army at Charleston left local Patriots demoralized and vulnerable. As the British advanced inland, the Rebels either fled or 

switched their allegiance to the Crown. Magnanimous in victory, Cornwallis 

permitted them to take an oath of loyalty and join his Loyalist militia.10

Then in the summer of 1780, the Continental Congress sent a new Rebel 

army to reclaim South Carolina. Though badly outnumbered, Cornwallis 

crushed this threat on 16 August 1780 at the Battle of Camden, but his 

victory had a bittersweet taste. At the approach of the Continental troops, 

the crypto-Rebels of South Carolina turned on the British. Whole units of 

“loyal” militia took the arms and equipment they had drawn from royal 

magazines and defected to the guerrilla bands assembling in the swamps 

outside Charleston.11

8Ltr, James Simpson to Lord George Germain, 28 Aug 1779, in Alan S. Brown, ed., “James 

Simpson’s Reports on the Carolina Loyalists, 1779–1780,” Journal of Southern History 21 

(November 1955): 517; Charles Stedman, The History of the Origin, Progress, and Termination 

of the American War, 2 vols. (1794; repr., New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 1969), 

2:189; Banastre Tarleton, A History of the Campaigns of 1780 and 1781, in the Southern 

Provinces of North America (1787; repr., New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 1968), 

pp. 13–23; Clinton, American Rebellion, pp. 150–74; Alden, American Revolution, pp. 408–09, 

412–16; Smith, Loyalists and Redcoats, pp. 121–28; Mackenzie, Diary, 2:447, 525. A reliable 

biography of the Continental general who lost Charleston is David B. Mattern, Benjamin Lincoln 

and the American Revolution (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1995). The most 

detailed scholarly account of that campaign is Carl P. Borick, A Gallant Defense: The Siege 

of Charleston, 1780 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003). Perhaps the most 

astute evaluation of the ill-founded assumptions that lured the British into the South is David K. 

Wilson, The Southern Strategy: Britain’s Conquest of South Carolina and Georgia, 1775–1780

(Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2005), pp. xi, xv, 59–62, 265–66. 9Franklin B. Wickwire and Mary Wickwire, Cornwallis: The American Adventure (Boston: 

Houghton Mifflin, 1970), pp. 8–137; Stedman, American War, 2:190–95; Clinton, American 

Rebellion, pp. 174–76, 186. 10 Stedman, American War, 2:190–95; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 23–32, 71–76, 85–89; 

Smith, Loyalists and Redcoats, pp. 128–36; Wilson, Southern Strategy, p. 264. 11 Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 6 Aug 1780, in Correspondence of Charles, First Marquis 

Cornwallis, ed. Charles Ross, 3 vols. (London: John Murray, 1859), 1:53; Roger Lamb, An 

Original and Authentic Journal of Occurrences During the Late American War, From Its 

Commencement to the Year 1783 (1809; repr., New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 

1968), pp. 302, 343, 381; Stedman, American War, 2: pp. 198–209; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 63

Later in the year, Cornwallis confronted a second American army under 

Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene, Washington’s most trusted lieutenant. Keeping 

just beyond reach, the wily Greene goaded Cornwallis into launching a ruinous 

midwinter pursuit across barren North Carolina.12 One of the earl’s sergeants 

called the Carolinas “a country thinly inhabited, and abounding with swamps, 

[that] afforded every advantage to a partizan warfare over a large and regular 

army.”13 Greene led the earl on a furious chase for nearly two months, finally 

pausing to fight at Guilford Court House on 15 March 1781. Greene’s forces 

outnumbered the British two to one, but Cornwallis gave battle anyway, and 

he defeated the Rebels once more. Nevertheless, the outcome of the battle 

was indecisive, and the cost to the British appalling. Of the 1,900 Redcoats, 

Hessians, and Loyalists that the earl led into the fray, more than a quarter fell 

killed or wounded. Another 436 British soldiers suffered bouts of sickness as 

a result of this strenuous campaign.14

Before Cornwallis’ ailing army recovered its strength, Greene marched 

on South Carolina. This time, however, Cornwallis did not join Greene in an 

exhausting game of cat and mouse. Years of hard campaigning in America 

had finally shown the earl the flaws in Britain’s fundamental strategy. For the 

rest of that spring and well into the summer—before he received orders to 

entrench at Yorktown—Cornwallis would experiment with a new approach 

for subduing the Rebels.15

Cornwallis’ most significant realization was that most southern Loyalists 

could not be trusted. “Our experience has shown that their numbers are not so 

great as has been represented,” he wrote ruefully from North Carolina, “and 

that their friendship was only passive.”16 The Crown’s American supporters 

90–96; Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 263–65. A fine recent description of Cornwallis’ victory 

is John R. Maass, Horatio Gates and the Battle of Camden—“That Unhappy Affair,” August 

16, 1780 (Camden, S.C.: Kershaw County Historical Society, 2001). 12 A. R. Newsome, ed., “A British Orderly Book, 1780–1781,” North Carolina Historical 

Review 9 (1932): 273–98, 366–79; Burke Davis, The Cowpens-Guilford Courthouse Campaign

(Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1962), pp. 49–145; Christopher Ward, The War of the Revolution, 

2 vols., ed. John Richard Alden (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 2:763–83; Tarleton, Campaigns, 

pp. 207–18; Clinton, American Rebellion, p. 229. For a recent examination of that campaign, see 

John Buchanan, The Road to Guilford Courthouse: The American Revolution in the Carolinas

(New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1997). 13 Lamb, Journal, p. 341. 14 Henry Lee, Memoirs of the War in the Southern Department of the United States, ed. 

Robert E. Lee (New York: University Publishing, 1870), pp. 276–83. Ltrs, Cornwallis to 

Rawdon, 17 Mar 1781; Cornwallis to Maj Gen William Phillips, 10 Apr 1781; and Cornwallis 

to Germain, 18 Apr 1781, last three in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:87, 88, 92. 

Stedman, American War, 2: 333–46; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 271–76; Newsome, “British 

Orderly Book,” pp. 388–92. See also Thomas E. Baker, Another Such Victory: The Story of the 

American Defeat at Guilford Courthouse That Helped Win the War for Independence (New 

York: Eastern Acorn Press, 1981). 15 Stedman, American War, 2:353; Clinton, American Rebellion, p. 284. 16 During the struggle for the South in 1780 and 1781, the most formidable and steadfast 

Loyalist units proved to be those that the British imported from the North and not locally raised 
64 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

talked a good fight, but they usually deserted the royal cause at the first sign 

of trouble. “The Idea of our Friends rising in any Number & to any Purpose 

totally failed as I expected,” the earl confided to a brother officer, “and here 

I am getting rid of my Wounded & refitting my Troops at Wilmington.”17 In 

reference to the handful of southern Tories who attached themselves to his 

battered army, Cornwallis described them as “so timid and so stupid that I 

can get no intelligence.”18

As for the troublesome Greene, the earl had decided that there were 

less expensive ways to deal with Rebel armies than attacking them directly. 

Cornwallis would attempt to counter the threat to the Carolinas by striking at 

the American general’s base of supply, the state of Virginia.19

Virginia was not only the largest and most populous of the rebellious 

colonies, but the richest as well. Virginia tobacco was a prime reason why 

America’s staggering economy had not collapsed entirely. With the fall of 

Charleston, Virginia became the mainstay of the Rebel war effort in the 

South. It provided the men and materiel Greene needed to keep his army in 

the field. If Virginia could be knocked out of the war, perhaps the whole Rebel 

confederation might come tumbling down.20

In a letter dated 18 April 1781, Cornwallis expressed his views in these 

words:

If therefore it should appear to be the interest of Great Britain to maintain 

what she already possesses, and to push the war in the Southern provinces, I 

take the liberty of giving it as my opinion, that a serious attempt upon Virginia 

would be the most solid plan, because successful operations might not only 

commands. Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 89–90, 117, 176, 238, 243, 262–63. Quotes from 

Ltr, Cornwallis to Germain, 18 Apr 1781, in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:90. 17 Quote from Ltr, Cornwallis to Phillips, 10 Apr 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/85, Papers of Charles 

Cornwallis, First Marquis and Second Earl, Public Record Office, London (hereafter cited 

as Cornwallis Papers), microfilm at David Library of the American Revolution, Washington 

Crossing, Pa. Ltrs, Cornwallis to Clinton, 29 Aug 1780; Rawdon to Clinton, 29 Oct 1780; and 

Cornwallis to Germain, 18 Apr 1781, the three in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:58, 

62–63, 89–90. Newsome, “British Orderly Book,” p. 372; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 229–30, 

256–57, 312–13. 18 Ltr, Cornwallis to Lt Col Banastre Tarleton, 18 Dec 1780, in Ross, Correspondence of 

Cornwallis, 1:74. 19 Ltrs, Cornwallis to Germain, 18 Apr 1781, and Cornwallis to Germain, 23 Apr 1781, 

both in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:90–91, 94–95; Stedman, American War, 2:347, 

353–54; Lamb, Journal, p. 357. 20 Edmund Randolph, History of Virginia, ed. Arthur H. Shaffer (Charlottesville: University 

Press of Virginia, 1970), pp. 3, 177–78; Ltrs, Richard Henry Lee to Thomas McKean, 25 Aug 

1781, in The Letters of Richard Henry Lee, ed. James Curtis Ballagh, 2 vols. (1911; repr., 

New York: Da Capo Press, 1970), 2:247; and Jefferson to Baron Friedrich von Steuben, 13 

Jan 1781, in The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, ed. Julian P. Boyd, 34 vols. to date (Princeton, 

N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1950–), 4:352; Lee, Memoirs, p. 310.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 65

be attended with important consequences there, but would tend to the security 

of South Carolina, and ultimately to the submission of North Carolina.21

Virginia lay ripe for invasion in 1781. Like other Americans, Virginians 

were weary after six years of war. Almost all of the Old Dominion’s Continental 

regiments had been captured at Charleston. That left only a few half-trained 

regulars to defend the state. In addition, large drafts of the Virginia militia 

had been sent far from home to fight under Greene. Those who survived the 

arduous campaigns in the Carolinas harbored no desire to face Cornwallis’ 

Redcoats again—a reluctance that they communicated to the militiamen who 

had stayed behind.22

Even nature favored the earl’s designs. The most distinctive feature of 

colonial Virginia’s geography was Chesapeake Bay. With its network of great 

tidal rivers (the James, York, Rappahannock, Potomac, and Susquehanna) and 

other navigable streams, the Chesapeake served as the highway that brought 

the first permanent English settlers to North America. It shaped the pattern 

of Virginia’s society and became the key to the colony’s prosperity. The 

Chesapeake also offered an enemy a ready-made invasion route, especially 

since its twisting, 8,000-mile shoreline was indefensible. As long as the Royal 

Navy ruled the waves, there was hardly anything of importance in Virginia east 

of the Blue Ridge Mountains that could not be flattened by British broadsides 

or menaced by landing parties. Not a town, not a plantation, and not a tobacco 

warehouse was safe.23 As Cornwallis astutely observed, “The rivers in Virginia 

are advantageous to an invading army.”24

Having taken these facts into account, Lord Cornwallis began his march 

north toward the Old Dominion on 25 April 1781. By 20 May, he was at 

21 Quote from Ltr, Cornwallis to Germain, 18 Apr 1781, in Ross, Correspondence of 

Cornwallis, 1:90, and see also p. 89. See also Ltr, Cornwallis to Germain, 23 Apr 1781, P.R.O. 

30/11/5, Cornwallis Papers. 22 Ltr, Jefferson to Marquis de Lafayette, 23 Apr 1781, in The Letters of Lafayette and 

Jefferson, ed. Gilbert Chinard (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins Press, 1928), p. 38; Fred Anderson 

Berg, Encyclopedia of Continental Army Units—Battalions, Regiments, and Independent Corps

(Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1972), pp. 124–32. Ltrs, Col William Preston to Jefferson, 

10 Apr 1781, in Calendar of Virginia State Papers, ed. William P. Palmer, 11 vols. (1880–93; 

repr., New York: Kraus Reprint Corp., 1968), 2:25, and Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 

4 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:230. Lee, Memoirs, pp. 299–301; 

Ward, War of the Revolution, 2:717–30, 782, 868–69; Ltr, Clinton to Cornwallis, 11 Jun 1781, 

P.R.O.30/11/68, Cornwallis Papers; Rhys Isaac, The Transformation of Virginia, 1740–1790

(Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982), pp. 275–76. 23 Ltrs, James Madison to Edmund Pendleton, 16 Jan 1781, in The Writings of James 

Madison, ed. Galliard Hunt, 9 vols. (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1900), 1:122, and 

George Mason to George Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in The Papers of George Mason 1725–1792, 

ed. Robert A. Rutland, 3 vols. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1970), 2:693; 

Allan C. Fischer Jr., “My Chesapeake—Queen of Bays,” National Geographic 158 (October 

1980): 431. 24 Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 10 Apr 1781, in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 

1:86–87.
66 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Petersburg, south of Richmond, where he joined forces with a small British 

army commanded by Brig. Gen. Benedict Arnold. Arnold, the famed American 

traitor, had opened operations in Virginia by raiding up the James River in 

January 1781, and his activities highlighted the Old Dominion’s vulnerability 

to amphibious operations. Maj. Gen. William Phillips had joined Arnold a few 

months later with 2,000 reinforcements and assumed command of the combined 

force, only to die of typhoid fever at Petersburg a week before Cornwallis’ 

arrival. After Cornwallis absorbed Phillips’ expedition, he had 8,000 seasoned 

regulars at his disposal, and he proceeded to subject Virginia to the ravages 

of war.25 Two weeks after the junction of Cornwallis’ and Phillips’ forces, 

Virginian George Mason, a gentleman lawyer and a firm adherent of the Rebel 

cause, wrote in near despair:

Our Affairs have been, for some time, growing from bad to worse. The 

Enemy’s Fleet commands our Rivers, & puts it in their Power to remove 

their Troops from place to place, when and where they please without Opposition; so that we no sooner collect a Force sufficient to counteract them 

in one Part of the Country, but they shift to another, ravaging, plundering, 

and destroying everything before them. . . . The Enemy’s capital Object, at 

this time, seems to be Virginia.26

For the next four months, Cornwallis terrorized the Patriots of Virginia 

with a new brand of war. One by one, he eliminated the mistaken assumptions 

that had hobbled the king’s forces for the past six years. In their place, he 

introduced a simple but brutal strategy that strained Virginia’s devotion to the 

cause of liberty. Less than a month after Cornwallis entered the Old Dominion, 

Richard Henry Lee, who as a delegate to the Continental Congress in 1776 had 

been one of the leaders in the drive to declare American independence, was 

sounding like a defeatist: “We shall receive all the injury before aid is sent to 

us—What will become of these . . . parts heaven knows—We and our property 

here are now within the power of the enemy.” To that gloomy assessment, 

Lee added: “Cornwallis is the Scourge—& a severe one he is—The doings of 

25 Audrey Wallace, Benedict Arnold: Misunderstood Hero? (Shippensburg, Pa.: Burd Street 

Press, 2003), pp. 75–80; Johann von Ewald, Diary of the American War: A Hessian Journal, 

trans. and ed. Joseph P. Tustin (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), pp. 255–58, 266–75, 

302; John Graves Simcoe, Simcoe’s Military Journal: A Military History of the Operations of a 

Partisan Corps, Called the Queen’s Rangers (1844; repr., New York: New York Times and Arno 

Press, 1968), pp. 158–72, 193–202; Rayford W. Logan, ed., “Memoirs of a Monticello Slave: 

As Dictated to Charles Campbell in the 1840s by Isaac, One of Thomas Jefferson’s Slaves,” 

William and Mary Quarterly, 3d ser., 8 (October 1951): 561–65; Harry M. Ward, Duty, Honor 

or Country: General George Weedon and the American Revolution (Philadelphia: American 

Philosophical Society, 1979), pp. 162–68; Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 20 May 1781, in Ross, 

Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:100; Lee, Memoirs, p. 413; Ltr, Arnold to Clinton, 12 May 

1781, quoted in Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 334–40; Stedman, American War, 2:354–55. 26 Ltr, George Mason to George Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George 

Mason, 2:693.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 67

more than a year in the South are undoing very fast, whilst they rush to throw 

ruin into the other parts.”27

One of Cornwallis’ most striking tactical departures was to cease putting 

his trust in the Loyalists. He no longer wasted his time courting unreliable 

allies. All he asked of those white Virginians who claimed to support George 

III was that they stay out of his way.28

This public warning, which Cornwallis posted in the waning days of his 

Virginia campaign, characterized his new approach:

The Inhabitants of Elizabeth City, York & Warwick Counties, being in the 

power of His Majesty’s Troops, are hereby ordered to repair to Head Quarters 

at York Town on or before the 20th day of Augst to deliver up their Arms, and to 

give their Paroles, that they will not in future take any part against His Majesty’s 

Interest. And they are likewise directed to bring to Market the Provisions that 

they can spare, for which they will be paid reasonable prices in ready money.

And notice is hereby given, that those who fail in complying with this Order 

will be imprisoned when taken, & their Corn and Cattle will be seized for 

the use of the Troops.29

Unlike other British commanders, Cornwallis kept his army on the 

move almost constantly. He did not just take cities and sit in them. “From 

the experience I have had,” the earl reflected, “and the dangers I have 

undergone, one maxim appears to me to be absolutely necessary for the safe 

and honourable conduct of this war, which is,—that we should have as few 

posts as possible, and that wherever the King’s troops are, they should be in 

respectable force.”30 By dint of frequent and rapid marches, Cornwallis kept 

the Rebels off-balance. He left his enemies no sanctuaries where they could 

rally or stockpile arms.31

Cornwallis also made certain that Virginia’s civilians paid for their 

allegiance to the rebellion by suffering the horrors of war. He not only struck 

at the state’s military capacity, but also at its citizens’ purses. If Virginians 

wanted to defy royal authority, they would pay dearly for it. Cornwallis had 

his far-ranging army destroy anything that might be of use to the Patriot war 

27 Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 4 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry 

Lee, 2:229–30. 28 Ltr, St. George Tucker to Fanny Tucker, 11 Jul 1781, in Charles Washington Coleman 

Jr., “The Southern Campaign 1781 from Guilford Court House to the Siege of York Narrated 

by St. George Tucker in Letters to His Wife, Part II, The Peninsula Campaign,” Magazine of 

American History 7 (September 1881): 207; Ltr, Thomas Nelson to Washington, 27 Jul 1781, 

in Palmer, Calendar of Virginia State Papers, 2:259; Tarleton, Campaigns, p. 296. 29 Cornwallis, Notification, 9 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/101, Cornwallis Papers.

30 Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 26 May 1781, in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 

1:100.31 Ltr, Cornwallis to Tarleton, 11 Jun 1781, P.R.O. 30/1/87, Cornwallis Papers.
68 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

effort—including private property. The following order, which the earl issued 

to his cavalry, typified his new strategy:

All public stores of corn and provisions are to be burnt, and if there should 

be a quantity of provisions or corn collected at a private house, I would have 

you destroy it. . . . As there is the greatest reason to apprehend that such provisions will be ultimately appropriated by the enemy to the use of General 

Greene’s army, which, from the present state of the Carolinas, must depend 

on this province for its supplies.32

Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton, the commander of Cornwallis’ cavalry, believed 

that terrorizing the inhabitants of Rebel districts was a “point of duty.” He 

boasted that he would “carry the sword and fire through the Land.” Everywhere 

they went, Cornwallis’ soldiers promised to retaliate against the homes and 

persons of any Virginians who bore arms against the king. The property of 

those who figured prominently in the rebellion suffered thorough destruction.33

This was how Thomas Jefferson, then Virginia’s governor, described what 

Cornwallis did to his estate at Elkhill:

He destroyed all my growing crops of corn and tobacco, he burned all my 

barns containing the same articles of the last year, having first taken what 

corn he wanted, he used . . . all my stocks of cattle, sheep, and hogs for the 

sustenance of his army, and carried off all the horses capable of service: of 

those too young for service he cut the throats, and he burnt all the fences on 

the plantation, so as to leave it an absolute waste.34

“This Family has not yet lost any Tobo [tobacco], Slaves, or other Property, 

by the Enemy,” George Mason reassured his son on 3 June 1781, “but we are 

in daily expectation of sharing the same Fate with our Neighbors upon this, 

& the other Rivers; where many Familys have been suddenly reduced from 

Opulence to Indigence, particularly upon James River; the Enemy taking all 

the Slaves, Horses, Cattle, Furniture, & other Property, they can lay their 

Hands on.”35

32 Ltr, Cornwallis to Tarleton, 8 Jul 1781, quoted in Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 402–03. 33 Ltr, Pendleton to Madison, 30 Apr 1781, in The Letters and Papers of Edmund Pendleton, 

1734–1803, ed. David John Mays, 2 vols. (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1967), 

1:354; Richard K. MacMaster, ed., “News of the Yorktown Campaign: The Journal of Dr. 

Robert Honyman, April 17–November 25, 1781,” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography

79 (October 1971): 400–401, 404, 411; Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 4 Jun 1781, in 

Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:229–30. First quote from Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 

100–101. Simcoe, Military Journal, pp. 213–23. Second quote from Ltr, David Garland to 

Thomas Nelson, 23 Jul 1781, in Palmer, Calendar of Virginia State Papers, 2:240–41. 34 Ltr, Jefferson to William Gordon, 16 Jul 1788, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 

13:363. 35 Ltr, George Mason to George Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George 

Mason, 2:690.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 69

While threatening Virginia Rebels with instant impoverishment, Cornwallis 

kept the Americans from wearing down his troops with guerrilla warfare by 

making his army more mobile than Patriot forces. The earl’s command was 

well suited for a war of swift maneuver. According to Sir Henry Clinton, 

“the chief part” of the royal troops in Virginia comprised “the elite of my 

army.” Most of Cornwallis’ British regiments had been campaigning in North 

America since 1775 and 1776, and they included such renowned formations 

as the Brigade of Foot Guards, the 23d Royal Welch Fusiliers, the 33d Foot 

(Cornwallis’ own regiment), and the 71st Fraser’s Highlanders. Long hours 

of drill and frequent combat experience left these regulars equally adept at the 

formal European tactics of the day and the open-order woodland skirmishing 

favored by Rebel irregulars. Among the most valuable units serving with 

Cornwallis were two green-coated Loyalist corps, the British Legion and the 

Queen’s Rangers. The British Legion was something of a miniature army. Half 

of its members were cavalry and the other half infantry. The Legion followed 

a ruthless young Englishman named Banastre Tarleton. This hard-riding 

light dragoon reportedly indulged a taste for cruelty. Rebels claimed that 

Tarleton ordered his men to murder prisoners, and the Legion also possessed 

an unenviable reputation for looting. Like the British Legion, the Queen’s 

Rangers was a composite organization. Close to 40 percent of the men were 

horse soldiers—hussars and light dragoons—while the rest were superbly 

conditioned light infantry. The leader of the Queen’s Rangers was another 

alert and active young officer from England, Lt. Col. John Graves Simcoe. 

A master of partisan warfare, Simcoe delighted in luring his adversaries 

into cleverly laid ambushes. Nevertheless, he seems to have been cut from a 

different cloth than the impetuous Tarleton. Simcoe fought hard, but he had 

no stomach for atrocities. He effectively prevented the Queen’s Rangers from 

molesting helpless prisoners and noncombatants.36

36 Gregory J. W. Urwin, “The British Guards in the Revolution,” Campaigns 6 (July/August 

1981): 48–51; Robert D. Bass, The Green Dragoon: The Lives of Banastre Tarleton and Mary 

Robinson (1957; repr., Columbia, S.C.: Sandlapper Press, 1973), pp. 44–58, 72–126, 139–73; 

Philip R. N. Katcher, Encyclopedia of British, Provincial, and German Army Units, 1775–1783

(Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1973), pp. 1–148; idem, The American Provincial Corps, 

1775–1784 (Reading, England: Osprey Publishing, 1973), pp. 3–32; Isaac Samuel Harrell, 

Loyalism in Virginia: Chapters in the Economic History of the Revolution (Durham, N.C.: 

Duke University, 1926), p. 49; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 101, 270–76; Stedman, American 

War, 2:183; Lamb, Journal, p. 381. Quotes from Clinton, American Rebellion, p. 304. Simcoe, 

Military Journal, pp. 150–58, 165–67, 212; Royal Gazette (New York), 19 May, 14, 18, 25 Jul 

1781; Ewald, Diary, pp. 140–50, 267–76, 278–80, 294, 296, 302; Lee, Memoirs, p. 413; Ltr, 

Simcoe to Cornwallis, 2 Jun 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/6, Cornwallis Papers. For discussions of the 

British Army’s adoption of open-order tactics during the War of Independence, see Lawrence 

E. Babits, A Devil of a Whipping: The Battle of Cowpens (Chapel Hill: University of North 

Carolina Press, 1998), pp. 17–18; J. A. Houlding, Fit for Service: The Training of the British 

Army, 1715–1795 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981), pp. 237–38, 336–37. Colonel Tarleton’s 

controversial American career is reassessed in Anthony J. Scotti, Brutal Virtue: The Myth and 

Reality of Banastre Tarleton (Bowie, Md.: Heritage Books, 2002).
70 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

By combining the mounted detachments from the British Legion and 

the Queen’s Rangers, Cornwallis could count on the services of roughly five 

hundred hussars and light dragoons. That was the largest number of horsemen 

ever assembled by the British during the war in the South. The size of the 

earl’s cavalry had a particularly intimidating effect on the Virginia militia.37

Recognizing the enemy’s superiority in mounted troops gave Cornwallis a 

pronounced advantage, the Marquis de Lafayette (the young French general 

commanding the Continental forces charged with the defense of Virginia) 

complained in a letter to General Washington:

Was I to fight a battle I’ll be cut to pieces, the militia dispersed, and the arms 

lost. Was I to decline fighting the country would think herself given up. I am 

therefore determined to scarmish, but not to engage too far, and particularly 

to take care against their immense and excellent body of horse whom the 

militia fears like they would so many wild beasts.38

Even as Lafayette wrote those words, however, Cornwallis took steps that 

prevented the Rebels from impeding the progress of British forces in Virginia. 

Since the late seventeenth century, the favorite hobbies of Virginia’s gentry 

were breeding and racing fine horses. There was hardly a plantation in the Old 

Dominion that did not boast of a well-stocked stable full of thoroughbreds. 

When Cornwallis invaded Virginia, he seized these spirited chargers for his 

own use. Thanks to this inexhaustible supply of remounts, the earl’s 500 

light dragoons and hussars could travel thirty to seventy miles a day, which 

greatly increased the range and unsettling impact of their raids. Cornwallis 

also put 700 to 800 of his infantrymen on horseback, thus more than doubling 

his mounted strength.39 On 4 June 1781, a worried Richard Henry Lee told 

37 MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” pp. 398, 403, 406; Lee, Memoirs, p. 415. 

Ltrs, Lafayette to Jefferson, 26 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:18; Richard 

Henry Lee to Washington, 12 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:235; and H. 

Young to William Davies, 26 May 1781, in Palmer, Calendar of Virginia State Papers, 2:120. 

“State of the Troops that Marched with the Army under the Command of Lieut. Genl. Earl 

Cornwallis,” 1 May 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/103, Cornwallis Papers; Scotti, Brutal Virtue, p. 41. 38 Ltr, Lafayette to Washington, 24 May 1781, in The Letters of Lafayette to Washington, 

1777–1799, ed. Louis Gottschalk, 2d ed. (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 

1976), p. 198. 39 During the height of the Virginia campaign, the Queen’s Rangers counted an enlisted 

strength of 632 men. Two hundred forty-eight of this number belonged to the regiment’s four 

troops of hussars and light dragoons. The remaining 384 were divided among eleven infantry 

companies, which included one company armed with rifles and swords. While in Virginia, the 

rifle company usually operated as mounted infantry. In an engagement at Spencer’s Ordinary 

on 26 June 1781, however, the versatile mounted riflemen joined the regiment’s cavalry in 

delivering a horseback charge. Ludwig, Baron von Closen, Revolutionary Journal, 1780–1783, 

trans. and ed. Evelyn M. Acomb (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1958), pp. 

176–77; Howard C. Rice and Anne S. K. Brown, trans. and eds., The American Campaigns of 

Rochambeau’s Army 1780, 1781, 1782, 1783, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 

1972), 1:68; T. H. Breen, “Horses and Gentlemen: The Cultural Significance of Gambling 
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 71

his brother, “The fine horses on the James river have furnished them with a 

numerous and powerful Cavalry.”40 British ships visiting Virginia brought 

exaggerated accounts of Cornwallis’ enhanced mobility to New York. As the 

Royal Gazette, a Loyalist newspaper, informed its readers on 13 June, “By 

the fleet from Virginia we learn, that Lord Cornwallis’s army is at Richmond 

. . . in excellent condition for service, and has lately been supplied with a 

great number of good horses, so that the army . . . produces from two to three 

thousand well mounted cavaliers.” Another report in the same paper claimed 

“that his Lordship’s whole army is now mounted, acting with great rapidity 

and decision.”41

Hyperbole aside, the thing to remember is that Cornwallis had created 

a British army that could outrun its Rebel opponents for the first time in the 

American Revolution. Lafayette possessed only 4,500 frightened troops, many 

of them untrained, to counter Cornwallis’ movements. That figure included 

no more than three hundred cavalry. To avoid encirclement or surprise by the 

earl’s larger and faster army, Lafayette felt compelled to keep at least twenty 

to thirty miles away from the British. At that distance, he could neither oppose 

nor harass the Redcoats.42 “The British have so many Dragoons,” Lafayette 

curtly informed Governor Jefferson, “that it becomes impossible to stop or 

reconnoitre their movements.”43

All through the spring and summer of 1781, Cornwallis found himself free 

to go where he wanted. Since Lafayette stayed out of harm’s way, the earl 

kept his army intact and potent. He did not have to fight any bloody battles to 

advance his strategy. The ravaging of the Old Dominion proceeded unchecked. 

“The fact is,” Richard Henry Lee related, “the enemy by a quick collection 

among the Gentry of Virginia,” William and Mary Quarterly, 3d ser., 34 (April 1977): 239–57; 

Isaac, Transformation of Virginia, pp. 98–101; MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” pp. 

395, 399; Ltr, Lafayette to Jefferson, 28 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:26; 

Lee, Memoirs, pp. 303, 415; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 286, 288, 299; Lamb, Journal, p. 371; 

Royal Gazette (New York), 7 Jul 1781; “State of the Queen’s Rangers 25th Aug.t 1781, With 

Casualties from 25th June to 24 Aug.st 1781”; “State of the Queen’s Rangers 25th December 

1781 with broken periods from 25 Oct. to 24 Dec.r 1781,” both in Ward-Chipman Papers: Muster 

Master General’s Papers and Regimental Papers, 1776–1785, Canadian National Archives, 

Ottawa, microfilm at the David Library of the American Revolution; Simcoe, Military Journal, 

pp. 107–08, 230, 233; De Witt Bailey, British Military Flintlock Rifles, 1740–1840 (Lincoln, 

R.I.: Andrew Mowbray Publishers, 2002), pp. 72–74. 40 Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 4 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry 

Lee, 2:231.

41 Royal Gazette (New York), 13, 27 Jun, 27 Jul 1781. 42 William Feltman, The Journal of Lieut. William Feltman, of the First Pennsylvania 

Regiment, 1781–82: Including the March into Virginia and the Siege of Yorktown (1853; repr., 

New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 1969), pp. 2–6; Ltr, George Mason to George 

Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George Mason, 2:693; Lee, Memoirs, pp. 414–15; 

Ward, War of the Revolution, 2:874–75; Ltr, Lafayette to Jefferson, 26 May 1781, in Boyd, 

Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:18; Royal Gazette (New York), 13, 20 Jun 1781. 43 Ltr, Lafayette to Jefferson, 28 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:26.
72 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

of their force, & by rapid movements, are now in the center of Virginia, with 

an army of regular infantry greater than that of the compounded regulars and 

militia commanded by the Marquis [de Lafayette] & with 5 or 600 excellent 

cavalry . . . this Country is, in the moment of its greatest danger . . . abandoned 

to the Arts & the Arms of the Enemy.”44

Although Cornwallis sought to subdue Virginia by striking at its civilian 

population, he did not allow his army to degenerate into a mob of freebooters. 

His war on private property proceeded under strict supervision. From Cole’s 

Plantation, the earl admonished his army on 5 June 1781, “All private foraging 

is again For bid, and the out posts are not to Suffer any foraging party to pass 

without a Commissioned Officer.” Six days earlier, the commander of the 

43d Regiment of Foot announced, “Any Soldier absent from Camp without 

leave in writing from the Officer Commanding his Company will be punished 

as a Maroader.”45 Cornwallis also issued detailed regulations to govern the 

confiscation of civilians’ horses.

Commanding Officers of Corps are desired to prevent the scandalous practice 

of taking Horses from the Country people; when the Commanding Officers 

of Cavalry find any Horses suitable to their Service they will report their 

[having] taken them the next morning at Head Quarters Unless when they 

are detached; In which case the Report is to be made the Morning after their 

joining the Army. Receipts are to be given to Friends and Certificates to all 

doubtfull Persons; to be hereafter paid or not, according to their past and 

future Conduct, who are neither in Arms or public Employment, or have 

abandoned their Plantations.46

Those Redcoats and Loyalists who defied the earl’s efforts to maintain 

discipline and order risked swift and merciless punishment. On 2 June 1781, 

Colonel Simcoe informed Cornwallis that two light dragoon privates from 

the Queen’s Rangers had raped and robbed a woman named Jane Dickinson. 

After an inquiry established the two Loyalists’ guilt, the earl directed that they 

be executed the following day. Four days later, Cornwallis required a field 

officer and a captain from each of his brigades, along with a junior officer 

and twenty men from each regiment, to witness the evening execution of a 

deserter from the 23d Royal Welch Fusiliers and two others from the 76th 

Regiment of Foot.47

44 Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to James Lovell, 12 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard 

Henry Lee, 2:237. 45 Brigade Orders, 31 May 1781; General Orders, 5 Jun 1781; Regimental Orders, 31 May 

1781. All in Orderly Book: H. B. M. 43d Regiment of Foot General Orders: From 23 May to 

25 Aug 1781, Additional Ms. 42,449, British Library, London. 46 Orders, 28 May 1781, in ibid.

47 Ltr, Simcoe to Cornwallis, 2 Jun 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/6, Cornwallis Papers; Simcoe, 

Military Journal, p. 212; Orders, 7 Jun 1781, Orderly Book: H. B. M. 43d Regiment of Foot 

General Orders.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 73

Cornwallis also attempted to restrain the depredations of British forces 

not under his personal command. Shortly after his arrival in Virginia, he 

complained to Clinton about “the horrid enormities which are committed by our 

Privateers in Chesapeak Bay.” Appalled at plundering that served no military 

purpose, the earl beseeched his commander-in-chief, “I must join my earnest 

wish that some remedy may be applied to an evil which is so very prejudicial 

to His Majesty’s Service.”48

Cornwallis not only strove to prevent his new strategy from reaching 

inhumane extremes, but he also made guarded use of conciliatory gestures. On 

14 August, he instructed one of his subordinates: “All Militia Men Prisoners 

of War taken before the 18th of June are to be released on parole, unless some 

particular Crime is alledged against them. I would have you detain all prisoners 

charged with heinous Offenses, & the very violent people of Princess Ann 

[County] & the Neighbourhood of Portsmouth who may be some security to 

those who have been favorable to us.” Such magnanimity was lost on many of 

the earl’s enemies, who were more impressed by the destructive impact that 

his army had on the areas it traversed. “Cornwallis’ campaign and Tarleton’s 

patrols ravaged the countryside, and destroyed the fields of maize to an extent 

where even inhabitants had scarcely enough for their subsistence,” reported a 

French officer. “There is no hay at all in Virginia.” An apprehensive gentleman 

living in Hampton County exclaimed, “Many persons in Virginia, with large 

fortunes, are totally ruined. The inhabitants in our county have not yet suffered 

much . . . but I fear the time of our distress is drawing near.” After the British 

briefly occupied Williamsburg, a disconsolate major in the state militia wrote 

his wife, “Here they remained for some days, and with them pestilence and 

famine took root, and poverty brought up the rear. . . . As the British plundered 

all that they could, you will conceive how great an appearance of wretchedness 

this place must exhibit.”49

As far as the white citizens of Virginia were concerned, however, the 

most unnerving thing Cornwallis did was to liberate their black slaves. 

Virginia’s 200,000 bondmen made up 40 percent of the state’s population. 

Had Cornwallis been permitted to follow his own instincts, these exploited 

masses might have tipped the balance in favor of his attempted conquest of 

the Old Dominion.50

In this politically correct era, most American history textbooks are sure to 

mention those African Americans who supported the Patriot cause. As Ellen 

Gibson Wilson has pointed out, however, “there has been some reluctance 

to face the implications of the fact that the overwhelming majority of blacks 

48 Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 26 May 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/74, Cornwallis Papers.

49 First quote from Ltr, Cornwallis to Brig Gen Charles O’Hara, 14 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 

30/11/89, Cornwallis Papers. Second quote from Closen, Revolutionary Journal, p. 174. Third 

quote from Royal Gazette (New York), 29 Aug 1781. Fourth quote from Ltr, St. George Tucker 

to Fanny Tucker, 11 Jul 1781, in Coleman, “The Southern Campaign, 1781,” p. 207. 50 Ellen Gibson Wilson, The Loyal Blacks (New York: Capricorn Books, 1976), p. 25.
74 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

who acted from choice were pro-British.” Historian David Waldstreicher put 

it more objectively when he said: “One of the less-well-known facts about the 

Revolutionary War is that African Americans fought on both sides, primarily 

with their own freedom in mind.” 51 Statistics reveal that many African 

Americans harbored no loyalty to a movement that promised life, liberty, and 

the pursuit of happiness solely to white adult males. Of the 500,000 blacks 

who inhabited the thirteen colonies during the War of Independence, as many 

as 80,000 to 100,000 flocked to the king’s forces.52 Their reason was simple 

but compelling. As Rev. Henry Muhlenberg, a Lutheran minister who worked 

near Philadelphia, confided to his diary, blacks “secretly wished that the British 

army might win, for then all Negro slaves will gain their freedom.” “It is said,” 

Muhlenberg later observed, “that this sentiment is almost universal among the 

Negroes in America.”53

The British did offer freedom of sorts to slaves who reached royal 

lines—provided the fugitives’ owners were Rebels. That qualification was 

forgotten, however, as the news worked its way through the slave grapevine. 

Most blacks came to equate the sight of a soldier in a red coat with liberty.54

The British did not begin to suspect how far and wide this misconception 

had spread until they invaded the South, where the overwhelming number of 

slaves resided.55 Dwelling upon his experiences in South Carolina, Colonel 

Tarleton reported “that all the negroes, men, women, and children, upon 

the approach of any detachment of the King’s troops, thought themselves 

absolved from all respect to their American masters, and entirely released from 

servitude: Influenced by this idea, they quitted the plantations, and followed 

the army.”56

51 Ibid., p. 21; David Waldstreicher, Runaway America: Benjamin Franklin, Slavery, and 

the American Revolution (New York: Hill and Wang, 2004), p. 210. 52 Benjamin Quarles, The Negro in the American Revolution (Chapel Hill: University of 

North Carolina Press, 1961), pp. 40, 51, 71–72, 116, 119; Richard B. Morris, The American 

Revolution Reconsidered (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1967), p. 76; Benjamin Quarles, “The 

Negro Response: Evacuation with the British,” in Black History, a Reappraisal, ed. Melvin 

Drimmer (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1968), p. 133; Wilson, Loyal Blacks, pp. 21–22. 53 Theodore G. Tappert and John W. Doberstein, trans., The Journals of Henry Melchior 

Muhlenberg, 3 vols. (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1942–58), 3:78. 54 Royal Gazette (New York), 25 Sep 1779; Sylvia R. Frey, “The British and the Black: 

A New Perspective,” Historian 38 (February 1976): 225–29; Charles Francis Adams, ed., The 

Works of John Adams, 10 vols. (Boston: Little, Brown, 1850–56), 2:428; Wilson, Loyal Blacks, 

p. 29. Judith L. Van Buskirk offers a vivid discussion of the African Americans who fled to 

British-occupied New York in Generous Enemies: Patriots and Loyalists in Revolutionary New 

York (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), pp. 129–54. 55 David Ramsay, The History of the Revolution of South-Carolina, from a British Province 

to an Independent State, 2 vols. (Trenton: Isaac Collins, 1785), 2:31–32; Wilson, Southern 

Strategy, p. 118. The most comprehensive discussion of this issue is Sylvia R. Frey, Water 

from the Rock: Black Resistance in a Revolutionary Age (Princeton: Princeton University 

Press, 1991). 56 Tarleton, Campaigns, p. 89.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 75

As long as the British sought to win the allegiance of white Americans, 

they discouraged this black exodus. A few weeks before Clinton sailed from 

Charleston to New York, he instructed Cornwallis, “As to the Negroes, I will 

leave such orders as I hope will prevent the Confusion that would arise from 

a further desertion of them to us, and I will consider some Scheme of placing 

those We have on abandoned Plantations on which they may subsist. In the 

meantime Your Lordship can make such Arrangements as will discourage 

their joining us.” The Redcoats even returned runaways to masters who were 

reputedly loyal or neutral. By the time Cornwallis entered Virginia, however, 

he no longer worried about the feelings of colonial slave owners, and he 

permitted black runaways to tag along with his soldiers.57

The response of Virginia’s blacks astounded both the Patriots and the British. 

“The damage sustained by individuals on this occasion is inconceivable,” testified 

Dr. Robert Honyman, a physician in Hanover County, 

especially in Negroes; the infatuation of these poor creatures was amazing: 

they flocked to the Enemy from all quarters, even from very remote parts. 

. . . Many Gentlemen lost 30, 40, 50, 60 or 70 Negroes beside their stocks 

of Cattle, Sheep & Horses. Some plantations were entirely cleared, & not a 

single Negro remained. Several endeavoured to bring their Negroes up the 

Country & some succeeded; but from others the slaves went off by the way 

& went to the Enemy.58

“Your neighbors Col. Taliaferro & Col. Travis lost every slave they had 

in the world,” Richard Henry Lee informed his brother William, “and Mr. 

Paradise has lost all his but one—This has been the general case of all those 

who were near the enemy.”59 Other prominent Virginians told similar stories.60

For instance, Thomas Nelson, the militia general who succeeded Jefferson as 

governor midway through Cornwallis’ campaign, owned seven hundred slaves 

before the British entered Virginia. After Yorktown, no more than eighty to 

one hundred remained in his charge.61

57 Frey, “British and the Black,” pp. 228–29; Stedman, American War, 2:193, 217; Wilson, 

Loyal Blacks, pp. 32–36; Wilson, Southern Strategy, pp. 176, 234. Quotes from Ltr, Clinton to 

Cornwallis, 20 May 1780. Ltr, Nesbitt Balfour to Cornwallis, 24 Jun 1780. Last two in P.R.O. 

30/11/2, Cornwallis Papers. 58 MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” p. 394.

59 Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to William Lee, 15 Jul 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard 

Henry Lee, 2:242. 60 Ltrs, George Mason to George Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George 

Mason, 2:690; Pendleton to Madison, 30 Apr 1781, in Mays, Letters of Edmund Pendleton, 

1:354; George Mason to Greene, 27 Jul 1781, quoted in Ward, General George Weedon, p. 

205; Jefferson to William Jones, 5 Jan 1787, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 11:16; 

and St. George Tucker to Fanny Tucker, 11 Jul 1781, in Coleman, “The Southern Campaign, 

1781,” p. 207. 61 Closen, Revolutionary Journal, p. 180.
76 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Cornwallis’ soldiers actively encouraged Virginia slaves to follow them. 

Honyman, who refused to flee his home at the earl’s approach, observed 

the enemy’s recruitment practices. “Where ever they had an opportunity,” 

Honyman confided to his journal, “the soldiers & inferior officers . . . enticed 

& flattered the Negroes, & prevailed on vast numbers to go along with them, 

but they did not compel any.” Capt. Johann Ewald, the commander of a 

crack Hessian jaeger detachment with Cornwallis, explained his comrades’ 

sudden passion for liberating slaves: “These people were given their freedom 

by the army because it was actually thought this would punish the rich, 

rebellious-minded inhabitants of . . . Virginia.” Richard Henry Lee charged 

that “force, fraud, intrigue, theft, have all in turn been employed to delude 

these unhappy people [the slaves], and defraud their masters!” Despite such 

anguished assertions, there is abundant evidence that those slaves who joined 

the British did so freely. As one Virginia gentleman admitted, “Our negroes 

flock fast to them.” Lafayette even reported to Washington that many of the 

Rebel commander-in-chief’s slaves had joined the British.62

By the middle of June 1781, at least 12,000 runaway slaves were with 

Cornwallis’ army. Jefferson later observed, “From an estimate I made at that 

time on the best information I could collect, I supposed the state of Virginia 

lost under Ld. Cornwallis’s hands that year about 30,000 slaves.”63

How all this appeared to the British is revealed in the diary of Captain 

Ewald: 

Every officer had four to six horses and three or four Negroes, as 

well as one or two Negresses for cook and maid. Every soldier’s 

woman was mounted and also had a Negro and Negress on horseback for her servants. Each squad had one or two horses and Negroes, 

and every noncommissioned officer had two horses and one Negro.

Yes, indeed, I can testify that every soldier had his Negro, who carried his 

provisions and bundles. This multitude always hunted at a gallop, and behind 

the baggage followed well over four thousand Negroes of both sexes and all 

ages. Any place this horde approached was eaten clean, like an acre invaded 

by a swarm of locusts.64

62 First quote from MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” p. 400. Second quote from 

Ewald, Diary, p. 305. Third quote from Ltr, Richard Henry Lee to Washington, 17 Sep 1781, in 

Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:256. Logan, “Memoirs of a Slave,” pp. 562–72; Ltr, 

Pendleton to Madison, 29 Jul 1782, in Mays, Letters of Edmund Pendleton, 2:402; “Jefferson’s 

Statement of Losses to the British at His Cumberland Plantations in 1781,” 27 Jan 1783, in 

Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:224–25. Ltr, Lafayette to Washington, 23 Apr 1781, in 

Gottschalk, Letters of Lafayette to Washington, p. 187. Fourth quote from Royal Gazette (New 

York), 29 Aug 1781. 63 Quote from Ltr, Jefferson to William Gordon, 16 Jul 1788, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas 

Jefferson, 13:364. Ewald, Diary, p. 305. 64 Ewald, Diary, p. 305.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 77

Virginia’s fugitive slaves did more than serve the earl’s soldiers as porters 

and body servants. The blacks also contributed substantially to Cornwallis’ 

new style of warfare.

By encouraging the slaves to leave their masters, Cornwallis threatened 

Virginia with complete economic ruin. Slaves represented the currency 

whereby the Tidewater planters calculated their wealth. Slaves also provided 

the cheap labor undergirding the Old Dominion’s agrarian prosperity. Thus 

Cornwallis robbed Virginia of the very means of production required to replace 

the vital resources his troops were destroying.65

The addition of thousands of African Americans to the British forces 

greatly augmented Cornwallis’ ability to ravage the countryside. Dr. Honyman 

of Hanover County composed this vivid picture of one of Cornwallis’ 

abandoned campsites:

The day after the Enemy left Mrs. Nicholas’s [plantation] I went over to her 

house, where I saw the devastation caused by the Enemy’s encamping there, 

for they encamped in her plantation all round the house. The fences [were] 

pulled down & much of them burnt; Many cattle, hogs, sheep & poultry of 

all sorts killed; 150 barrels of corn eat up or wasted; & the offal of the cattle 

&c. with dead horses & pieces of flesh all in a putrefying state scattered over 

the plantation.66

Virginia’s fugitive slaves also served Cornwallis in a more deliberate 

fashion. Runaways sometimes acted as spies and guides for the British. The 

blacks frequently showed their new friends where fleeing masters had hidden 

their valuables and livestock.67 In fact, the African Americans delivered so 

many horses to Cornwallis that Lafayette exclaimed, “Nothing but a treaty 

of alliance with the negroes can find out dragoon horses, and it is by those 

means the ennemy have got a formidable cavalry.”68 At other times, the 

blacks provided manual labor for the British Army. As one Virginian put it, 

the fugitives “ease the soldiery of the labourer’s work.” A corps of “Negro 

Pioneers” (military laborers), originally formed by General Phillips, buried 

the offal from butchered cattle after Cornwallis’ troops received issues of 

65 William Duane and Thomas Balch, trans. and eds., The Journal of Claude Blanchard: 

Eyewitness Accounts of the American Revolution (1876; repr., New York: New York Times and 

Arno Press, 1969), p. 162; Rice and Brown, Rochambeau’s Army, 1:67; Closen, Revolutionary 

Journal, p. 187; Isaac, Transformation of Virginia, p. 136. 66 Quote from MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” pp. 401–02. Ewald, Diary, p. 

305; Closen, Revolutionary Journal, p. 174; Ltr, St. George Tucker to Fanny Tucker, 11 Jul 

1781, in Coleman, “The Southern Campaign, 1781,” pp. 207–08. 67 Closen, Revolutionary Journal, p. 166; McMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” p. 

399; Ltr, Lafayette to Jefferson, 28 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:26; 

Rice and Brown, Rochambeau’s Army, 1:154; Tarleton, Campaigns, p. 353; Simcoe, Military 

Journal, p. 165. 68 Ltr, Lafayette to Washington, 20 Jul 1781, in Gottschalk, Letters of Lafayette to 

Washington, p. 209.
78 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

fresh meat, thus eliminating a nauseating stench and also a health hazard. 

The black pioneers and officers’ servants pulled double duty as stevedores 

whenever Cornwallis used ships to transport soldiers, equipment, and supplies. 

The extensive earthworks that Cornwallis had erected at Portsmouth and 

Yorktown were built largely by black muscle. Finally, the defection of so 

many slaves spread the fear of servile revolt—the white South’s most dreaded 

nightmare—throughout Virginia.69

As much as Cornwallis benefited from the specter of black rebellion, he 

did not intend to unleash a racial reign of terror against the Old Dominion’s 

white population. The earl composed numerous regulations throughout 

his Virginia campaign aimed at ensuring orderly conduct among slaves 

seeking his protection. To restore his army’s proper military appearance 

and free his columns of unnecessary encumbrances, Cornwallis attempted 

to restrict the number of horses and blacks employed by his officers. A 

colonel, lieutenant colonel, or major of infantry was entitled to “5 Horses 

and 2 Negroes.” A captain could have three horses and one black servant, 

regimental staff officers and subalterns could each have a pair of mounts 

and a single servant, and a surgeon was limited to one horse and one black. 

Sergeants major, the most senior noncommissioned officers in the earl’s 

regiments, were also permitted one horse and one black servant apiece. 

Except for those detailed for mounted service, enlisted infantrymen did not 

receive permission to ride horses, and no one below the rank of sergeant 

major could enjoy the services of black servants. Cornwallis also stipulated, 

“No woman [white camp follower] or negro to possess a Horse, nor any 

negro to be Suffered to ride on a March except such as belong to publick 

departments.”70

To distinguish the African Americans who were authorized to accompany 

the army’s different units from those who were not, Cornwallis decreed on 21 

May 1781, “The number or names of Corps to be marked in a Conspicuous 

manner on the Jacket of each negro.” A week later, the earl informed his army, 

“All Negros who are not marked agreeable to the Orders repeated at Petersburg 

will be taken up and sent away from the Army.”71

Cornwallis’ headquarters frequently reminded unit commanders to purge 

their ranks of surplus horses and blacks. Typical of such orders was this one 

69 Royal Gazette (New York), 29 Aug 1781; Joseph G. Rosengarten, trans., “Popp’s Journal, 

1777–1783,” Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 26 (1902): 38; Ltr, Phillips to 

Clinton, 3 Apr 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/96, Cornwallis Papers. First quote from Regimental Orders, 

28 Jul 1781. After Orders, 4 Aug 1781; Morning Regimental Orders, 25 Aug 1781. Last three 

in Orderly Book: H. B. M. 43d Regiment of Foot General Orders. Ltrs, Cornwallis to O’Hara, 

4 Aug 1781, in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:113, and Pendleton to Madison, 10 

Sep 1781, in Mays, Letters of Edmund Pendleton, 1:371; Robert J. Tilden, trans., “The Doehla 

Journal,” William and Mary Quarterly, 2d ser., 22 (July 1942): 243. 70 General Orders, 21 May 1781, in Orderly Book: H. B. M. 43d Regiment of Foot General 

Orders. 71 General Orders, 21 May 1781, and Orders, 28 May 1871, both in ibid.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 79

issued on 5 June: “Lord Cornwallis desires the Commanding officers of Corps 

to Examine Strictly what number of Negores there are with their respective 

Corps and See that no more are kept than those allowed by the regulation and 

They will order all the abel’d bodied Negroes which they find above their 

Number allowed to officers to be taken up and Sent to Capt Brown of the 

Pioneers.”72

Some of Cornwallis’ officers, sharing his sense of military decorum, 

conscientiously enforced their commander’s orders. On 4 June, Maj. George 

Hewett, the commander of the 43d Regiment of Foot, warned his noncommissioned officers and privates: “Any Man found Guilty of sending the Negroes 

of the Regiment plundering or Maroding the smallest Article from the Houses 

of the Inhabitants will be severely punished.” Captain Ewald, who joined 

Cornwallis on 21 June after recovering from a wounded leg, discovered that 

his jaeger detachment possessed more than twenty horses, and that “almost 

every jager had his Negro.” With professional pride, Ewald scribbled in his 

diary, “But within twenty-four hours, I brought everything back on the track 

again.” Ewald also noted, however, that in other units “this order was not 

strictly carried out,” and “the greatest abuse arose from this arrangement.” The 

no-nonsense Hessian officer blamed the situation on “the indulgent character 

of Lord Cornwallis.” 73 In reality, the earl made repeated efforts to control his 

black camp followers and keep them from undermining his troops’ discipline 

and the army’s ability to respond to any threat.74

Although military expedience governed the earl’s treatment of Virginia’s 

slaves, he did betray a glimmer of sympathy for the runaways. In late July 

1781, Thomas Nelson, Virginia’s newly installed governor, sent Cornwallis a 

curious letter. “The frequent Applications that are made to me by the Citizens 

of this Commonwealth,” Nelson wrote, “to grant Flags for the Recovery of 

their Negroes & other Property, taken by the Troops under your Command, 

induce me to address your Lordship for Information, whether Restitution will 

be made at all, what Species of Property will be restored, & who may expect 

to be the Object of such an Indulgence.”75

Cornwallis replied with a polite but carefully worded note that must have 

given Nelson little satisfaction:

No Negroes have been taken by the British Troops by my orders nor to my 

knowledge, but great numbers have come to us from different parts of the 

Country. Being desirous to grant any indulgence to individuals that I think 

72 Quote from General Orders, 5 Jun 1781, in ibid. See also Regimental Orders, 5 Jun 1781; 

Brigade Orders, 18 Jun 1781; General Orders, 25 Jun 1781. All in ibid. 73 Regimental Orders, 4 Jun 1781, in ibid.; Ewald, Diary, pp. 305–06. 74 Orders, 28 May 1781; Brigade Orders, 8 Jun 1781; General Orders, 11 Aug 1781; 

General Orders, 20 Aug 1781; General Orders, 25 Aug 1781. All in Orderly Book: H. B. M. 

43d Regiment of Foot General Orders. 75 Ltr, Thomas Nelson to Cornwallis, 23 Jul 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/90, Cornwallis Papers.
80 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

consistent with my public duty, Any proprietor not in Arms against us, or 

holding an Office of trust under the Authority of Congress and willing to 

give his parole that he will not in future act against His Majesty’s interest, 

will be indulged with permission to search the Camp for his Negroes & take 

them if they are willing to go with him.76

By the summer of 1781, Lord Cornwallis’ new strategy of conquest bore 

a strong resemblance to the hard war policies that another invading army 

would adopt to pacify the American South eight decades later. In his own way, 

Cornwallis taught the Old Dominion the same lesson that Maj. Gens. William 

T. Sherman and Philip H. Sheridan would administer to the Confederacy 

during the Civil War. A century after Cornwallis’ Virginia campaign, Sheridan 

captured the essence of that lesson in his memoirs: “Death is popularly 

considered the maximum of punishment in war, but it is not; reduction to 

poverty brings prayers for peace more surely and more quickly than does the 

destruction of human life, as the selfishness of man has demonstrated in more 

than one great conflict.”77

Cornwallis’ impromptu version of hard war was steadily forcing Virginia to 

its knees. The startling mobility of the earl’s army denied local Continental forces 

the opportunity to engage in either conventional or guerrilla warfare. Cornwallis’ 

policy of property despoliation also neutralized Virginia’s last remaining line of 

defense, the militia. The strength and speed of British forces terrified Virginia’s 

citizen-soldiers. Militiamen grew reluctant to take up arms lest they provoke the 

Redcoats into destroying their homes.78 The militiamen also feared to leave their 

families alone with their slaves. “There were . . . forcible reasons which detained 

the militia at home,” explained Edmund Randolph, who had been a Virginia 

delegate to Congress. “The helpless wives and children were at the mercy not 

only of the males among the slaves but of the very women, who could handle 

deadly weapons; and those could not have been left in safety in the absence of 

all authority of the masters and union among the neighbors.”79

At this critical juncture, the swiftness of Cornwallis’ movements made it 

impossible for Virginia’s state government to function. On 3 June 1781, British 

76 Ltr, Cornwallis to Thomas Nelson, 6 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/90, Cornwallis Papers.

77 Philip H. Sheridan, Personal Memoirs of P. H. Sheridan, 2 vols. (New York: Charles 

L. Webster, 1888), 1:487–88. 78 Ltrs, Lafayette to Thomas Nelson, 26 Aug 1781, in Lafayette in Virginia: Unpublished 

Letters, ed. Gilbert Chinard (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins Press, 1928), p. 54; St. George 

Tucker to Fanny Tucker, 14 Sep 1781, in Coleman, “The Southern Campaign, 1781,” pp. 206, 

211; Richard Henry Lee to Washington, 12 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry 

Lee, 2:233; and Lafayette to Jefferson, 28 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 

6:26. MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” pp. 393, 394, 416; Ward, General George 

Weedon, pp. 203, 216. 79 Randolph, History of Virginia, p. 285. This fear was an American military weakness 

throughout the Revolution. As historian David K. Wilson observed, “The threat of a slave 

insurrection (and/or Indian attacks in the case of frontier counties) usually kept half of a southern 

county’s militia at home.” See Wilson, Southern Strategy, p. 3.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 81

cavalry and mounted infantry raided the Virginia Assembly at Charlottesville, 

capturing seven legislators and forcing Governor Jefferson and the rest of the 

assemblymen to scatter for safety. “Lt. Colonel Tarleton took some Members 

of the Assembly at Charlottesville,” Cornwallis boasted, “& destroyed there 

& on his return 1000 stand of good Arms, some Clothing & other Stores 

& between 4 & 500 barrels of Powder without opposition.” In addition to 

Jefferson, many other well-known Virginians, including Richard Henry Lee 

and Edmund Pendleton, fled at the Redcoats’ approach, depriving the Patriot 

cause of some of its best political leaders.80

Being denied protection by a skittish state government, lacking any hint 

of aid from the Continental Congress or America’s French allies, and facing 

the prospect of economic disaster, the people of Virginia began to consider 

making peace with Great Britain. The inhabitants of Norfolk, Princess Anne, 

and Nansemond counties placed themselves under British protection. The men 

of Montgomery, Bedford, and Prince Edward counties ignored all summons 

for militia duty. When state officials tried to raise the militia in Accomack, 

Northampton, and Lancaster counties, they encountered opposition from armed 

mobs. Farmers living around the British base at Portsmouth started trading 

with the enemy, sometimes bringing the Redcoats intelligence about Rebel 

activities.81 One of Cornwallis’ Hessian corporals marveled at the Virginians’ 

change of heart: “Toward us [the Portsmouth garrison] they were rather 

agreeable and showed more respect than in other provinces, especially the 

Virginia women had more affection for the Germans.”82 Defeatist sentiment 

reached such dangerous levels that Richard Henry Lee recommended that 

General Washington return to Virginia with his troops and assume dictatorial 

80 Emory G. Evans, Thomas Nelson of Yorktown: Revolutionary Virginian (Charlottesville: 

University Press of Virginia, 1975), pp. 100–101; Ltrs, Pendleton to Madison, 4 May 1781, 

and Pendleton to Madison, 6 Jul 1781, both in Mays, Letters of Edmund Pendleton, 1:356, 365; 

Lee, Memoirs, p. 438; Stedman, American War, 2:387–88; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 295–97; 

Royal Gazette (New York), 4 Jul 1781. Quote from Ltr, Cornwallis to Clinton, 30 Jun 1781, 

P.R.O. 30/11/74, Cornwallis Papers. Ltrs, Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 13 May 1781, 

in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:233, and George Mason to Pearson Chapman, 

31 May 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George Mason, 2:688. MacMaster, “Journal of Robert 

Honyman,” p. 401. 81 Ltrs, Richard Henry Lee to Arthur Lee, 4 Jun 1781, in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry 

Lee, 2:230, and George Mason to George Mason Jr., 3 Jun 1781, in Rutland, Papers of George 

Mason, 2:693–94; Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 297–98. Ltrs, George Corbin to Jefferson, 31 May 

1781, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 6:44–46. James Arbuckle, Charles Bagwell, and 

D. Bowman to Jefferson, 15 May 1781; J. Parker to the Speaker of the Virginia Assembly, 9 

Jun 1781; J. Parker to Thomas Nelson, 29 Jun 1781; Preston to Davies, 28 Jul 1781; Preston to 

Thomas Nelson, 28 Jul 1781; and James Innes to Thomas Nelson, 29 Jul 1781, last six in Palmer, 

Calendar of Virginia State Papers, 2:97–100, 151, 189, 246–67. Harrell, Loyalism in Virginia, 

pp. 59–62; Tilden, “Doehla Journal,” p. 240; Isaac, Transformation of Virginia, p. 276. 82 Tilden, “Doehla Journal,” p. 240.
82 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

powers until the crisis passed.83 Jefferson too urged Washington to hasten to 

the Old Dominion “to lend us Your personal aid.”84

Although Cornwallis made Virginia howl, he failed to attain the objective 

that ostensibly drew him there in the first place—crippling General Greene’s 

logistical system. To be sure, the earl’s presence in the Old Dominion worried 

the Quaker general. As he reminded Lafayette on 9 June 1781, “Virginia is a 

capital link in the chain of communication and must not be left to sink under 

the oppression of such formidable attacks as are making upon her.” Greene’s 

concern for Virginia was compounded by the difficulty he experienced in 

supplying his army in South Carolina. “I can see no place where an Army of 

any considerable force can subsist for any length of time; and the horses are so 

destroyed in this Country that subsistence cannot be drawn from a distance,” he 

had observed in May. With good reason, Lt. Col. Henry Lee, one of Greene’s 

most active subordinates, flattered his commander, “I am also conscious that 

no General ever commanded troops worse appointed or worse supplyed, 

than those which form your present army.” Cornwallis not only destroyed 

or confiscated resources that might have gone to Greene, but he also cost the 

latter considerable reinforcements. Greene had to halt the southward march 

of Brig. Gen. Anthony Wayne’s Pennsylvania line and Continental recruits 

raised in Virginia to bolster Lafayette’s numbers.85

Despite all these handicaps, Greene managed to keep his army alive. As 

Washington’s former quartermaster general, he was probably the best-qualified 

officer in the Continental service to confront such a challenge. He purchased 

some of what he needed from various sources in North Carolina and made 

up the difference by living off the land. He sent out strong foraging parties to 

requisition dragoon horses, draft animals, edible livestock, and grain from Rebel 

and Loyalist farmers alike. Greene also appealed to South Carolina’s partisan 

leaders—Brig. Gens. Thomas Sumter, Francis Marion, and Andrew Pickens—to 

send him some of the weapons, ammunition, and food that they had captured 

from the British. “I have Ten waggons on their way to you With Meal,” Sumter 

informed Greene on 2 May 1781. In addition, a caravan of nearly two dozen 

wagons containing clothing and ammunition from the north managed to slip 

through Virginia before Cornwallis rendezvoused with Arnold at Petersburg. The 

passage of such convoys became increasingly difficult after the earl unleashed his 

wide-ranging cavalry and mounted infantry on the Old Dominion. Fortunately 

83 Ltrs, Richard Henry Lee to Washington, 12 Jun 1781, and Richard Henry Lee to James 

Lovell, 12 Jun 1781, both in Ballagh, Letters of Richard Henry Lee, 2:233–37. 84 Quote from Ltr, Jefferson to George Washington, 28 May 1781, in Boyd, Papers of 

Thomas Jefferson, 6:33, and see also p. 32. 85 Ltrs, Greene to Steuben, 2 Apr 1781; Lt Col Henry Lee to Greene, 2 Apr 1781; Greene 

to Samuel Huntington, 5 May 1781, 9 Jun 1781; and Greene to Lafayette, 9 Jun 1781, all in The 

Papers of General Nathanael Greene, ed. Richard K. Showman et al., 13 vols. (Chapel Hill: 

University of North Carolina Press, 1976–2005), 8:23, 28 (third quote), 206 (second quote)–07, 

363, 366 (first quote)–67.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 83

for the Rebels, British efforts to interdict the Virginia lifeline were short-lived. 

Interference from above brought a premature close to Cornwallis’ campaign to 

knock the state out of the war.86

Cornwallis had plunged into Virginia without seeking permission from his 

immediate superior, Sir Henry Clinton. Clinton would later call that move “a 

measure . . . determined upon without my approbation, and very contrary to my 

wishes and intentions”—an opinion he made no effort to hide from his aristocratic 

subordinate at the time. Clinton faulted Cornwallis for exposing the Carolinas 

and Georgia to recapture by Greene. The British commander-in-chief also still 

clung to his faith in the Loyalists. He considered recalling a large number of 

the troops he had sent to the Chesapeake and using them instead to inspire an 

uprising in Maryland, Delaware, or southeastern Pennsylvania. Fear of a possible 

Franco-American siege of New York also made him contemplate a concentration 

of force there. At the same time, personal insecurity affected Clinton’s strategic 

thinking. He and Cornwallis did not like each other, and they were rivals. Despite 

the heavy losses the earl suffered at Guilford Court House, his aggressive efforts 

to crush the rebellion contrasted sharply with Clinton’s relative inactivity at 

New York. Suspecting that the earl’s success might precipitate his own removal, 

Clinton brought an end to Virginia’s agony. In the middle of the summer, he 

ordered Cornwallis to retire to the coast, set up a naval base, and send 2,000 

troops back to New York. An exasperated Cornwallis began entrenching at 

Yorktown on the York River on 2 August 1781.87

86 Ltrs, Sumter to Greene, 2 May 1781; Pickens to Greene, 25 May 1781; and Greene to 

Lt Col Henry Lee, 29 Jun 1781, all in Papers of General Nathanael Greene, 8:193 (quote), 

310–11, 473. Ltrs, Marion to Greene, 21 Apr 1781, Nathanael Greene Papers, Henry E. 

Huntington Library, San Marino, Calif., and Davies to Greene, 17 Jun 1781, Nathanael 

Greene Papers, William L. Clements Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor; Lawrence 

E. Babits, “Supplying the Southern Continental Army, March 1780 to September 1781,” 

Military Collector & Historian: Journal of the Company of Military Historians 47 (Winter 

1995): 163–71; Theodore Thayer, Nathanael Greene: Strategist of the American Revolution

(New York: Twayne Publishers, 1960), pp. 336–39, 349, 364; Terry Golway, Washington’s 

General: Nathanael Greene and the Triumph of the American Revolution (New York: Henry 

Holt, 2005), pp. 264–66, 269, 271–72, 276, 278–79. Hugh F. Rankin, Francis Marion: The 

Swamp Fox (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1973), pp. 184–238. For an insightful examination 

of the Continental Army’s logistical system, which General Greene did so much to build, see E. 

Wayne Carp, To Starve the Army at Pleasure: Continental Army Administration and American 

Political Culture 1775–1783 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984). 87 Quote from Henry Clinton, The Narrative of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Clinton, K.B., 

relative to His Conduct during Part of His Command of the King’s Troops in North America

(London: J. Debrett, 1783), p. 8, and see also p. 7; idem, Observations on Some Parts of the 

Answer of Earl Cornwallis to Sir Henry Clinton’s Narrative (London: J. Debrett, 1783), pp. 

11–12, 16. Ltrs, Clinton to Cornwallis, 8 Jun 1781; Clinton to Cornwallis, 11 Jun 1781; Clinton 

to Cornwallis, 15 Jun 1781; Clinton to Cornwallis, 19 Jun 1781; and Clinton to Cornwallis, 8 Jul 

1781, last five in The Campaign in Virginia 1781: An Exact Reprint of Six Rare Pamphlets on the 

Clinton-Cornwallis Controversy with Very Numerous Important Unpublished Manuscript Notes 

by Sir Henry Clinton, K.B., ed. Benjamin Franklin Stevens, 2 vols. (London: Privately Printed, 

1888): 2:14–17, 18–23, 24–25, 26–28, 29–30, 49–56, 62–65. Ltrs, Cornwallis to Clinton, 30 Jun 
84 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Now fate turned against the British. At the end of August, a French fleet 

appeared off Chesapeake Bay, denying Cornwallis access to the sea. Seizing this 

opportunity, Washington pulled out of his lines around New York and slipped 

down to Virginia with a strong Franco-American army. By 28 September 1781, 

Cornwallis and his six thousand weary regulars found themselves besieged by 

nearly seventeen thousand Americans and Frenchmen.88

Cornwallis knew he was in a tight spot. Although he sympathized with the 

black runaways under his protection, he was the king’s servant first. Hoping 

to stretch his army’s provisions until Clinton could come to the rescue, the 

earl ordered all but 2,000 of the slaves sheltering at Yorktown expelled from 

British lines. Besides being terrified at the thought of returning to their vengeful 

masters, many of the cast-off blacks were seriously ill. They had contracted 

smallpox in the earl’s camps. Frightened by what the future might bring and 

weakened by disease, hundreds of runaways simply lay down in the no-man’sland between the opposing trenches, where they died of exposure, illness, and 

starvation. The remainder took shelter in the woods around Yorktown. Few 

survived to witness Cornwallis’ surrender on 19 October 1781.89 Jefferson later 

1781; Cornwallis to Clinton, 24 Jul 1781; and Cornwallis to Clinton, 22 Aug 1781, last three 

in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:103–06, 107–10, 112, 113–16, 117. Ltrs, Clinton 

to Cornwallis, 11 Jun 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/68, Cornwallis Papers; James Robertson to William 

Knox, 12 Jul 1781; Robertson to Lord Amherst, 8 Dec 1781; and Robertson to Amherst, 27 Dec 

1781, last three in The Twilight of British Rule in Revolutionary America: The New York Letter 

Book of General James Robertson, 1780–1783, ed. Milton M. Klein and Ronald W. Howard 

(Cooperstown, N.Y.: New York State Historical Association, 1983), pp. 209, 231, 234. Ltr, John 

Ross to Lord Ankerville, 2 Mar 1781, RH15/44/103, Papers of John Ross, National Archives of 

Scotland, Edinburgh, Scotland; Ira D. Gruber, ed., John Peebles’ American War: The Diary of 

a Scottish Grenadier, 1776–1782 (Mechanicsburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1998), p. 464; Don 

Higginbotham, The War of American Independence: Military Attitudes, Policies, and Practice, 

1763–1789 (New York: Macmillan, 1971), pp. 376–79; Clinton, American Rebellion, pp. 

284, 289–90, 301–02; Mackesy, War for America, p. 409; Wickwire, Cornwallis, pp. 352–53; 

William Smith, Historical Memoirs of William Smith, 1778–1783, ed. William H. W. Sabine 

(New York: New York Times and Arno Press, 1971), pp. 406, 407, 418. 88 Tarleton, Campaigns, pp. 368–69; Ward, War of the Revolution, 2:879–87; Stedman, 

American War, 2:414; Tappert and Doberstein, Journals of Henry Muhlenberg, 3:443; Donald 

Jackson, ed., The Diaries of George Washington, 6 vols. (Charlottesville: University of Virginia 

Press, 1976–1979), 3:409–10. 89 John C. Dann, ed., The Revolution Remembered: Eyewitness Accounts of the War for 

Independence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), p. 244; Joseph Plumb Martin, 

Private Yankee Doodle: Being a Narrative of Some of the Adventures, Dangers, and Sufferings 

of a Revolutionary Soldier, ed. George F. Scheer (Boston: Little, Brown, 1962), pp. 241–42; 

Fleming, Beat the Last Drum, pp. 175–76, 256; Ewald, Diary, pp. 314, 318, 328, 335–36; 

Edward M. Riley, “St George Tucker’s Journal of the Siege of Yorktown, 1781,” William 

and Mary Quarterly, 3d ser., 5 (July 1948): 387; MacMaster, “Journal of Robert Honyman,” 

p. 420; Logan, “Memoirs of a Slave,” p. 572; Feltman, Journal, p. 6; Frey, “British and the 

Black,” pp. 232–33. Ltrs, Cornwallis to Clinton, 22 Aug 1781; Cornwallis to Clinton, 16 Sep 

1781; and Cornwallis, 20 Oct 1781, last three in Ross, Correspondence of Cornwallis, 1:117, 

120, 127–28. Wilson, Loyal Blacks, p. 42; Tilden, “Doehla Journal,” pp. 238, 241–46, 251; 

Rosengarten, “Popp’s Journal,” p. 41. A medical history of Cornwallis’ Virginia campaign that 
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 85

claimed that 27,000 of the 30,000 fugitive slaves died of diseases brought to 

Virginia by the British.90

Cornwallis had received an inkling of the bleak future in store for his black 

allies months before he was trapped at Yorktown. Within weeks of Cornwallis’ 

arrival in Virginia, the blacks following the British began exhibiting the 

unmistakable symptoms of smallpox. On 18 June 1781, the earl’s headquarters 

advised the army’s “Diferent deppertments who have Negroes in their employ 

to get them inoculeted.” That same day, Lt. Col. Thomas Dundas, one of 

Cornwallis’ brigade commanders, cautioned his officers: “Returns to be given 

in by the 43d, 76th, and 80th Regiments as Soon as possible of the number of 

Men in the Regiments who have not had the Small pox, and as a number of 

Negroes belonging to the Army now have the Small Pox, and a number going 

to be Invealeted, it is recommended to such men as never had Such Disorder to 

avoid Communicating with the negroes until such a proper opportunity shall be 

found to have them inoculated.” Inoculations were administered to the troops, 

but it is not apparent that runaway slaves received the same treatment.91

What is clear is that smallpox was soon running rampant among those 

African Americans who were exposed to the earl’s Redcoats, Hessians, and 

Loyalists. Lt. William Feltman of General Wayne’s brigade of Pennsylvania 

Continentals, which shadowed British movements in late June, found the 

enemy’s route of march littered with sick and abandoned blacks. He described 

credits another origin for the smallpox plague that swept the blacks who followed the British 

is Philip Ranlet, “The British, Slaves, and Smallpox in Revolutionary Virginia,” Journal of 

Negro History 84 (Summer 1999): 217–26. 90 Ltr, Jefferson to William Gordon, 16 Jul 1788, in Boyd, Papers of Thomas Jefferson, 

13:364. An untold number of runaway slaves escaped either death or recapture. When three 

transports arrived at Yorktown on 3 November 1781 to carry paroled British officers back to 

New York, some of them smuggled their black mistresses and servants on board. Other fugitives 

represented themselves as “freemen” and obtained employment among the victorious Continental 

and French officers. “Negroes without masters found new ones among the French,” reported one 

French lieutenant, “and we garnered a veritable harvest of domestics. Those among us who had 

no servant were happy to find one so cheap.” An exasperated General Washington repeatedly 

commanded his officers to surrender their newly acquired servants. In “After Orders” issued 

on 25 October, Washington decreed, “All Officers of the Allied Army and other persons of 

every denomination concerned are directed not to suffer any such negroes or mulattoes to be 

retained in their Service but on the contrary to cause them to be delivered to the Guards which 

will be establish’d for their reception at one of the Redoubts in York and another in Gloucester.” 

Thus Washington immediately converted the army that won independence into a posse of slave 

catchers and created another one of the ironies that continue to trouble students of American 

history. First quote from Rice and Brown, Rochambeau’s Army, 1:64. Second quote from John 

C. Fitzpatrick, ed., Writings of George Washington, 39 vols. (Washington, D.C.: Government 

Printing Office, 1931–1944), 23:265. 91 First quote from General Orders, 18 Jun 1781. Second quote from Brigade Orders, 18 

Jun 1781. Brigade Orders, 28 Jun 1781. All in Orderly Book: H. B. M. 43d Regiment of Foot 

General Orders. Ranlet, “British, Slaves, and Smallpox,” p. 222. For more on the impact of 

smallpox on the Revolutionary War, see Elizabeth A. Fenn, Pox Americana: The Great Smallpox 

Epidemic of 1775–82 (New York: Hill & Wang, 2001).
86 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

them as “starving and helpless, begging of us as we passed them for God’s 

sake kill them, as they were in great pain and misery.” Feltman accused the 

British of frequently leaving black smallpox victims lying in their wake “in 

order to prevent the Virginia militia from pursuing them.”92

“Above 700 Negroes are come down the River in the Small Pox,” Maj. Gen. 

Alexander Leslie, the commander of the British garrison at Portsmouth, wrote 

Cornwallis on 13 July 1781. Leslie was coldhearted enough to continue to use 

the stricken blacks as military assets. “I shall distribute them,” he informed 

Cornwallis, “about the Rebels Meantimes.”93 After Cornwallis decided to 

concentrate his forces at Yorktown, he detailed Brig. Gen. Charles O’Hara to 

oversee the evacuation of Portsmouth. A warm and friendly Irishman, O’Hara 

sent his commander a heartrending report on the rapidly deteriorating condition 

of the post’s black population.

I shall continue till I receive Your positive instructions to the contrary, to 

victual the Sick Negroes, above 1,000 in number. They would inevitably perish, if our support was withdrawn from them. The People of this Country, are 

more inclined to fire upon than receive & protect a Negro whose complaint 

is the small Pox. The abandoning [of] these unfortunate beings, to disease to 

famine, & what is worse than either, the resentment of their enraged Masters, 

I should conceive ought not to be done, if it can possibly be avoided, or in 

as small degree as the cases will admit.94

O’Hara’s words touched the earl, but the latter did not want the epidemic 

raging at Portsmouth to infect his army at Yorktown. “It is shocking to think 

of the state of the Negroes,” Cornwallis confided to O’Hara on 7 August 1781, 

“but we cannot bring a number of sick & useless ones to this place; some flour 

must be left for them & some people of the Country appointed to take charge 

of them to prevent their perishing.”95

Ten days later, O’Hara added the postscript to this tragic story, which 

proved to be a foretaste of the tragedy that would engulf a much larger number 

of runway slaves at Yorktown.

We shall be obliged to leave over 400 Wretched Negroes. I have passed them 

all over to the Norfolk side [of the Elizabeth River], which is the most friendly 

Quarter in our Neighbourhood. I have begg’d of the People of Princess Ann, & 

Norfolk Countys to take them. We have left with them fifteen days provisions, 

which time will Kill, or Cure the greatest number of them, such as . . . will by 

that time, be free from the small Pox,—which is the invincible objection, the 

people have, to these miserable beings.96

92 Feltman, Journal, p. 6. 93 Ltr, Leslie to Cornwallis, 13 Jul 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/6, Cornwallis Papers.

94 Ltr, O’Hara to Cornwallis, 9 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/70, Cornwallis Papers.

95 Ltr, Cornwallis to O’Hara, 7 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/89, Cornwallis Papers. 

96 Ltr, O’Hara to Cornwallis, 17 Aug 1781, P.R.O. 30/11/70, Cornwallis Papers.
WHEN FREEDOMWORE A RED COAT 87

For African Americans, the Yorktown campaign was a tragedy. What 

transpired in Virginia in 1781 was the most notable slave uprising to occur in 

the United States prior to the Civil War. At the bicentennial observances in 

1981, François Mitterrand paid those desperate fugitives an unintended tribute 

when he said, “Everywhere one finds the same desire for independence, the 

same need for dignity.”97 The African Americans who flocked to Cornwallis 

registered their hatred for chattel slavery and their desire for liberty—a desire 

so great they willingly braved the dangers of war to realize it. And thousands 

chose death instead of returning to bondage. Wherever freedom is cherished, 

their struggle and their betrayal should be remembered.

97 Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk), 20 Oct 1981.

Learning the Good and the Bad: Canadian 

Exposure to British Small War Doctrine in 

South Africa, 1900–1901

Chris Madsen

At the beginning of the last century, Canadian troops went to South Africa 

as part of a multinational force to fight the Boers, a determined and skillful 

enemy who resorted to unconventional means to carry on the struggle in 

the face of British superiority. At the height of the conflict, several hundred 

thousand imperial and colonial soldiers fought against opposition numbering 

an estimated ten to twenty thousand at most.1 After a series of initial setbacks, 

the top British generals took the offensive with substantial forces marshaled 

from overseas and occupied principal Boer cities and towns in the Orange Free 

State and Transvaal, a relentless advance that the Boers proved unable to check 

conventionally. Formed units of Canadian infantry, artillery, and mounted 

troops participated fully in these operations under the command and control 

of British superior officers at brigade and above.2 Unwilling to concede defeat, 

the remaining Boers opposing the British organized into smaller, decentralized 

groups, called commandos, and pursued guerrilla tactics of surprise and 

ambush by striking at points of weakness. In turn, Canadian troops protected 

extended lines of communication, conducted patrols to ward off attacks and 

to gain information on Boer strength and intentions, and eventually joined 

British efforts to put pressure on Boer fighters by calculated measures against 

the civilian population. As the changed nature of the conflict was grudgingly 

acknowledged by higher commanders in the field, corresponding demands on 

individual soldiers, who for the most part longed to go home, grew tiresome 

and frequently disagreeable. It was not the type of warfare that either the 

troops on the ground or the government that had sent them envisioned when 

the commitment was made.

As the country’s first significant overseas deployment in a combat role, 

the South African War (also known as the Boer War) introduced Canada’s 

nascent armed forces to a complex battle environment that tested accepted 

1Alexander Hugh John Wilson, “The Railway War: A Study and Assessment of the British 

Defeat of the Boer Guerillas, South Africa 1899–1902” (Master’s thesis, University of New 

Brunswick, 1993). 2Brian A. Reid, Our Little Army in the Field: The Canadians in South Africa 1899–1902

(St. Catherines, Ontario: Vanwell, 1996). 
90 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

knowledge with practical experience gained in the field against a flexible 

foe. The Canadians underwent a learning process, in the course of which the 

distinct stages of instruction, adaptation, and evolution pertained. Officers of 

the Canadian permanent force were predominantly schooled in British-inspired 

small war doctrine described in manuals and taught through courses of military 

instruction. Firsthand experience in the 1885 North-West Rebellion for some, 

along with recent best practice in Great Britain’s colonial wars, particularly 

on India’s northwest frontier, provided important sources of inspiration and 

dissemination. Field Marshal Lord Roberts (Frederick Sleigh), Baron of 

Kandahar, and his chief of staff, Maj. Gen. Lord Kitchener (Horatio Herbert), 

Baron of Khartuom, (the duo sent to South Africa to retrieve British fortunes 

and deliver victory), imbued the operational style of the Indian Army onto the 

large field force collected to march on Bloemfontein and onward to Pretoria. As 

part of this campaign, Canadian tactical units integrated into larger groupings, 

commanded by superior British officers, which fought the Boers in numerous 

battles and tactical engagements. Constant losses to disease, combat, and 

mishap drained manpower and combat capability to the point that diminished 

Canadian units were largely relegated, once the conflict entered the guerrilla 

phase, to static duties along railroads and places considered important for 

maintaining lines of communication. Opportunities for independent command 

at lower levels and the need to confront the Boers on their own terms enabled 

the Canadians to develop their own style of fighting, based upon working in 

small combined arms teams and as part of task-oriented columns organized 

by the British. Canadian troops reached the pinnacle of combat efficiency and 

competence just as higher British commanders decided to shift operations 

toward civilians and the return to Canada became a viable option. Canadians left 

the hard business of subduing intransigent insurgents and actually winning the 

conflict to others who were better suited to undertake the necessary work.

Instruction in British Example

At the turn of the twentieth century, the Canadian armed forces were militiabased, with a small cadre of permanent force officers and other ranks for training 

purposes. Withdrawal of British garrisons in the previous decades put a greater 

burden for the organization of defense on the Canadians themselves. They had 

last conducted a major mobilization during the 1885 North-West Rebellion, a 

domestic aid to a civil power operation characterized more by the long distances 

of transporting a sizable force of troops from central Canada to the prairie 

territories and sustaining them in the field rather than by the smallish battles 

and engagements actually fought to reassert dominion authority.3 Propitiously, 

3 Desmond Morton, The Last War Drum (Toronto: Hakkert, 1972); Walter Hildebrandt, 

The Battle of Batoche: British Small Warfare and Entrenched Metis (Ottawa: National Historic 

Parks and Sites, Canadian Parks Service, Environment Canada, 1989).
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 91

the rebels under arms, led by Louis Riel, chose not to adopt guerrilla tactics 

against vulnerable supply lines and instead waited for the field force to come 

to them. The North-West Rebellion gave a select number of officers practical 

experience in command at levels of responsibility below brigade and limited 

exposure to combat in a Canadian context.4 Few important lessons, even the 

most obvious for dealing with insurgents, carried over to the Canadian militia, 

which lapsed into a period of apathy and heavy desertions from its ranks. The 

primary external military threat to Canada at the time was the United States, a 

prospect considered increasingly untenable due to a totally indefensible border 

and undue faith in the effectiveness of British sea power on two nations sharing 

a continent. In 1898, a report by a commission into the state and improvement 

of Canadian defenses concluded that the country could not possibly defend itself 

without significant assistance from imperial troops, who likely would arrive 

neither in time nor in sufficient numbers to prevent a full-scale land invasion.5

Thus, provision of military forces was framed more in terms of extraterritorial 

service as a contributing member of the British Empire, particularly after 

Maj. Gen. Edward Hutton became general officer commanding the Canadian 

militia. With the outbreak of hostilities in South Africa, this British officer 

made immediate plans for sending a large Canadian contingent drawn from the 

militia. However, when the public learned of this, it put Canada’s prime minister, 

Wilfrid Laurier, and his defense minister, Frederick Borden, into a very awkward 

situation politically.6 Fervor for the war was strongest among English-speaking 

parts of Canada, whereas opinion in French-speaking, Catholic Quebec was 

decidedly against participation in any imperial war that suppressed another 

religious and ethnic minority group. The Canadian government compromised by 

indicating a willingness to send contingents of volunteers for a fixed period of 

one-year service, to be placed under British imperial authorities in the conduct 

of operations. The British were left with little choice in the matter other than to 

accept this restriction by a self-governing colony.

British approaches to training and doctrine underpinned recruitment of 

contingents destined for South Africa from Canada. Though the newest recruits 

among other ranks came from various walks of life and often possessed little or 

no direct military experience, permanent force officers and noncommissioned 

officers were overwhelmingly represented in positions of authority across 

battalions, squadrons, and batteries. These men were familiar with the latest 

4 Maj A. N. Todd Diary, Mss C550/2/2.1, University of Saskatchewan Library Special 

Collections. 5 Memo, Maj Gen E. P. Leach for Under Secretary of State for War, 30 Nov 1898, WO 

32/6366, The National Archives (TNA), Kew, United Kingdom. See also Stephen J. Harris, 

Canadian Brass: The Making of a Professional Army, 1860–1939 (Toronto: University of 

Toronto Press, 1988), pp. 62–64. 6Carman Miller, Painting the Map Red: Canada and the South African War, 1899–1902

(Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1993), ch. 3; Desmond Morton, 

Ministers and Generals: Politics and the Canadian Militia, 1868–1904 (Toronto: University 

of Toronto Press, 1970), pp. 151–56.
92 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

manuals issued by the War Office, inspected annual summer camps of exercises 

performed by the active militia, and staffed established schools of instruction. 

The focal point of military professionalism in Canada was Toronto, with its 

long-standing infantry school at Stanley Barracks and the private Canadian 

Military Institute (later the Royal Canadian Military Institute), which sponsored 

regular lectures and served as a meeting place for the exchange of views.7

Lt. Col. William Otter, the infantry school’s commandant, was designated 

to take a special service battalion of the Royal Canadian Regiment (RCR) to 

South Africa, first saw active service during the Fenian Raids, commanded 

the Battleford column during the North-West Rebellion, and wrote a popular 

book published in several editions about administration of an infantry battalion. 

Lt. Col. Francois Lessard, a French-Canadian officer also associated with the 

military district in Toronto, was a cavalry proponent earmarked to lead mounted 

troops in the second South African contingent.8 Reformist British officers like 

Hutton, who fell afoul of the traditional cavalry lobby in the British Army, 

imported new concepts to Canada about the relative value of mounted infantry. 

This built upon a previous book by George Taylor Denison, a lawyer and 

part-time soldier from a well-known Toronto military family, titled Modern 

Cavalry: Its Organization, Armament and Employment in War, which won 

a prize for military writing from the Russian czar.9 In western Canada, the 

North-West Mounted Police provided a ready source of capable riders, and 

Lord Strathcona’s Horse, a dedicated unit of mounted infantry, was formed 

through the generosity of Great Britain’s high commissioner in Ottawa, who 

paid the associated costs. The various formations adopted standard British 

organization as patterned at the time and set out in existing manuals. On the 

theoretical side, the Canadians were at least comparable to similar military units 

in Great Britain and other self-governing colonies in the British Empire.

The accepted knowledge that formed prevailing sources of British doctrine 

on small wars was available to Canadian officers if they chose to study it. 

A second edition of Maj. Charles Callwell’s Small Wars was published in 

1899 and already used as a teaching text in such places as the staff college 

at Camberley.10 It became available under official auspices for purchase 

through Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, conveniently by mail order for 

addition to military libraries or personal collections. Callwell highlighted the 

peculiar characteristics of fighting against irregular enemies and drew upon 

7 Col. Gerald Charles Kitson, “Lessons in Strategy and Tactics to Be Gained from the 

Present Campaign” (lecture delivered on 12 March 1900), no. 10, Canadian Military Institute 

Selected Papers (Toronto: Canadian Military Institute, 1900), pp. 22–40. 8 John Macfarlane, “The Right Stuff? Evaluating the Performance of Lieutenant-Colonel 

F. L. Lessard in South Africa and His Failure to Receive a Senior Command Position with the 

C.E.F. in 1914,” Canadian Military History 8 (Summer 1999): 50–51. 9George Taylor Denison, Modern Cavalry: Its Organisation, Armament and Employment 

in War, CIHM 02636 (London: T. Bosworth, 1868). 10 For curriculum and teaching at Camberley during this period, see Brian Bond, The 

Victorian Army and the Staff College, 1854–1914 (London: Eyre Methuen, 1972).
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 93

illustrations from recent operations by the British and other armies in the 

colonial sphere, observing, “Tactics favour the regular army while strategy 

favours the enemy—therefore the object is to fight, not to maneuver.”11 By 

virtue of technical and professional superiority, conventional forces generally 

bested opposing colonial enemies in open battles and tactical engagements 

but responded awkwardly to actions done in a less forthright manner, which 

professional soldiers were apt to describe as underhanded or cowardly. For a 

British Army at home aping Prussian forms and still entranced by the marvelous 

conventional victories of Helmuth von Moltke in the wars of German unification 

(the handling of francs tireurs after the French Army surrendered at Sedan was 

typically overlooked), Callwell’s book and the peculiar demands of colonial 

warfare probably received less attention than they deserved.12 Nonetheless, 

each year, a number of Canadian graduates from the Royal Military College 

of Canada obtained commissions in the British Army and served with regular 

regiments throughout parts of the British Empire. Henry De Bury, one such 

officer who soldiered in Southwest Africa, wrote Canada’s first significant 

counterinsurgency treatise, Bush Wars, a blend of simple theoretical analysis 

and personal reminiscences.13 Private reading and writing supplemented formal 

courses of instruction at Canadian military educational institutions. The Royal 

Military College of Canada ran the first higher-staff course, modeled by Col. 

Gerald Kitson upon Camberley’s curriculum, between 1 February and 27 May 

1899; eight of the twelve officers who completed the course proceeded to active 

service in South Africa.14 A tension inevitably exists between what is taught 

in an abstract way and what soldiers actually encounter in the field through 

practical experience. Hopefully, Canadian officers went to South Africa better 

prepared than they would otherwise have been without reading manuals and 

undertaking instruction. But, in the end, the operational commander, guided 

by his background, personality, and views, decided the concept of operations 

followed in the specific campaign.

Field Marshal Lord Frederick Roberts, once he assumed command 

in South Africa on 10 January 1900, planned to undertake offensive 

operations against the Boers. His ideas were influenced by his time in 

India and followed classic textbook tenets. The Indian Army had faced 

possible invasion from Russia through Afghanistan as well as pacification 

of various tribal peoples on the northwest frontier, to which Roberts 

11 Charles Edward Callwell, Small Wars: A Tactical Textbook for Imperial Soldiers

(London: Greenhill, 1990), ch. 7. 12 Howard Bailes, “Patterns of Thought in the Late Victorian Army,” Journal of Strategic 

Studies 4 (1981): 29–45. 13 Thanks to Maj. Andrew Godefroy for bringing this text to my attention.

14 “Department of Militia and Defence for the Dominion of Canada. Report for the Year 

Ending December 1899,” Sessional Papers 34, no. 19 (1900): 33. See also John A. Macdonald, 

“In Search of Veritable: Training the Canadian Army Staff Officer, 1899 to 1945” (Master’s 

thesis, Royal Military College of Canada, 1992), pp. 62–63.
94 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

espoused a “scientific frontier doctrine” of presence and forward defense.15

The situation in South Africa was simply the reverse side of the problem, 

wherein the British were determined to take the initiative away from the 

Boers. Roberts intentionally stayed on a defensive footing for the time 

being: “The conclusion that I arrived at was that no sensible improvement 

to the military situation could be hoped for until we were prepared to carry 

the war into the enemy’s country, and all my efforts have accordingly 

been exerted in that direction.”16 With fresh reinforcements arriving from 

overseas, upwards of 35,000 troops with supporting cavalry and artillery 

were moved forward and concentrated in sufficient force for a planned 

general advance on the Orange Free State and then onward to Transvaal, 

thereby drawing off the Boers and relieving besieged British garrisons 

elsewhere.17 The first Canadians in South Africa, the 1,000-strong infantry 

battalion under Colonel Otter, received orders to join the 19th Brigade under 

Maj. Gen. Horace Smith-Dorrien, belonging to Lt. Gen. Henry Colville’s 

9th Division. Brev. Maj. Septimus Denison, an RCR officer from the same 

Toronto family, joined Roberts on his staff as Canadian aide-de-camp. The 

intended line of advance was eastward across the open countryside along 

the Modder River, a movement by which Roberts intended to cut loose from 

the main railway line and thus surprise the Boers as to his intentions. In due 

course, the British cut off and cornered a large force of five thousand Boers 

retreating from Kimberley to Bloemfontein, commanded by General Piet 

Cronjé, at Paardeberg Drift, where a major battle ensued. The Canadians 

took heavy casualties during a frontal assault ordered by Kitchener on the 

first day and eventually were instrumental in a night action prepared by 

Otter and Smith-Dorrien that led to Cronjé’s surrender.18 In keeping with 

Callwell’s writings, Roberts gave the trapped Boers little option other than 

to fight superior forces arrayed against them, in which British materiel 

and numbers prevailed. In the weeks and months ahead, the Boers proved 

powerless to stop by conventional means the plodding advance of Roberts’ 

massive field army toward Boer cities, the capture of which Roberts felt 

would compel surrender and put an end to the war.

15 R. A. Johnson, “Russians at the Gates of India? Planning the Defence of India, 

1885–1900,” Journal of Military History 67 (2003): 697–744; Tim Moreman, The Army in India 

and the Development of Frontier Warfare, 1849–1947 (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998). 16 Rpt of Operations, Lord Roberts to Secretary of State for War, 6 Feb 1900, WO 32/7962, 

TNA.17 Circular Memo 5, Notes for Guidance in South African Warfare, 26 Jan 1900, WO 

108/109, TNA. 18 Rpt, Smith-Dorrien to Assistant Adjutant General, 9th Division, 1 Mar 1900, box 87/47/6, 

Boer War Notes binder, General Horace Smith-Dorrien Papers, Imperial War Museum (IWM), 

United Kingdom; Weekly Rpts, Otter to Chief Staff Officer, Ottawa, 26 Feb and 2 Mar 1900, 

RG 9 series II-A-3 reel T-10404 vol. 32, Library and Archives Canada (LAC), Ottawa.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 95

Adaptation to Unconventional Methods of Warfare

British forces entered Bloemfontein, the Orange Free State’s capital, on 

13 March 1900 without significant resistance. Boer commanders chose to 

withdraw instead of meeting British strength head-on in battles they knew 

were losing propositions. The refusal of the Boers to accept the fight on British 

terms created a dilemma for Roberts and his plans.19 Boer fighting forces 

remained mostly intact, and various attempts to draw them into action failed. 

In fact, the Boers nearly handed the British a number of defeats by taking 

advantage of British mistakes at the tactical level. Sent to the rescue of Brig. 

Gen. Robert Broadwood’s ambushed column on 31 March, Canadian infantry 

played an ancillary part in an engagement described by Smith-Dorrien as “a 

very hard day for the men.”20 The slow-moving infantry was hardly a match 

for the mobility of the Boers on horseback. Mounted infantry, rather than the 

ponderous cavalry favored by senior British officers of that branch at the time, 

were the answer, but still too few in number and seldom used to full potential. 

To illustrate, British commanders broke the mounted infantry and artillery in 

the second Canadian contingent into piecemeal groupings and distributed them 

on various tasks. However, Lessard’s 1st Canadian Mounted Rifles found a 

home with Hutton’s brigade in Lt. Gen. John French’s Cavalry Division.

When the operational pause forced on Roberts by logistics concerns ended, 

the advance resumed at the end of April in accordance with the previously 

laid planning. The 19th Brigade with the RCR infantry transferred from the 

control of 9th Division to a new force or column organized under Lt. Gen. Ian 

Hamilton at Winburg. On 2 May, Smith-Dorrien assumed command of the 

infantry division in Hamilton’s force, of which the 19th Brigade formed a part. 

Canadian confidence in British leadership generally remained high, though the 

same was not always true in the other direction. Hutton criticized Lessard’s 

tactical competence, and Lt. Col. Lawrence Buchan took over command of the 

RCR for a period of time when Otter suffered a superficial injury in battle and 

went back to hospital.21 The last conventional battles awaiting the Canadians 

on the road to Pretoria were among the hardest faced in South Africa.

In spite of several concerted Boer attempts to block the advance, the 

British and Canadians worked as a seamlessly integrated team to achieve 

objectives quickly and limit casualties. The shared experiences of the 

previous weeks and the common operating doctrine paid handsome dividends 

in terms of tactical success. Looking for another Paardeberg through a 

decisive battle with large Boer forces, Roberts was optimistic when the 

19 Maj. Andrew J. Risio, “Building the Old Contemptibles: British Military Transformation 

and Tactical Development from the Boer War to the Great War, 1899–1914” (Master’s thesis, 

U.S. Command and General Staff College, 2005), p. 3. 20 Diary, 31 Mar 1900, box 87/47/1, Smith-Dorrien Papers, IWM.

21 Serge Derflinger, “Otter’s Wound and Other Matters: The ‘Debate’ Between William 

Dillon Otter and Lawrence Buchan,” Canadian Military History 7 (Autumn 1998): 60.
96 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Boers stopped behind the Zand River. On 10 May, Smith-Dorrien’s two 

infantry brigades attacked across the water obstacle, while the Canadians 

fixed approximately eight hundred Boers along the riverbank by rifle and 

artillery fire.22 The Canadians lost only one killed and several wounded for a 

full day’s fighting. Though Robert turned the Boer position shortly thereafter, 

several thousand Boers managed to get away on horseback. The foot-borne 

19th Brigade gave pursuit as best as possible; at one point, Smith-Dorrien’s 

infantry caught up with 11,000 Boers, field guns, and wagons, only to see 

the whole mass promptly ride away before their eyes.23 The Boers, for the 

most part, avoided armed confrontations, unless certain natural geographic 

features gave a clear and overwhelming advantage. Outside Johannesburg, 

the Boers fortified a series of high kopjes around Doornkop east of the Klip 

River and installed heavy artillery, which fired in a commanding fashion 

onto the plains below, blocking the way forward. On 29 May, Smith-Dorrien 

directed the Canadians and Scots in the Gordon Highlanders Regiment to 

advance up a steep, grassy slope, which the Boers promptly set alight, and 

to undertake an assault.24 The action went much better than expected, due in 

large part to the coordinated efforts of the units involved. In all, the Canadians 

lost only seven wounded.

Roberts arrived in Pretoria, which Boer military forces abandoned, with 

considerable fanfare on 5 June 1900. Smith-Dorrien issued a brigade order 

to mark the occasion.

The 19th Brigade has achieved a record of which any infantry might be 

proud. Since the date it was formed, 12 Fe[bruary 19]00, it has marched 620 

miles often on 1⁄2 rations seldom on full. It has taken part in the capture of ten 

towns, fought in ten general actions, and on 27 other days. In one period of 

30 days it fought on 21 of them and marched 327 miles. Casualties [were] 

between 4 & 5 hundred.25

For the Canadians, the intensity of combat and range of engagements 

were unprecedented: 27 officers and 411 other ranks remained effective in the 

battle-weary RCR, less than half full strength. It seemed an opportune time to 

go home, as Roberts and the soldiers alike believed they had finished the war. 

British professional soldiers immersed in existing doctrine sincerely held that 

occupation of capital cities was key to victory by putting the enemy into an 

unfavorable—indeed, potentially unwinnable—position. Many Boers, civilians 

22 Rpt, Buchan to Chief Staff Officer, Ottawa, 31 May 1900, RG 9 series II-A-3 reel 

T-10404 vol. 32, LAC. 23 Diary, 20 May 1900, box 87/47/1, Smith-Dorrien Papers, IWM.

24 Rpt, Smith-Dorrien to Assistant Adjutant Gen Hamilton’s Force, 31 May 1900, WO 

105/8, TNA. 25 Notebook, Pvt James Montgomery Thomas, 19820205-004, Canadian War Museum 

(CWM), Ottawa.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 97

under arms fighting for their homeland, refused to admit defeat and embarked 

on guerrilla attacks against British weak points and lines of communication.

The shift of the conflict into an irregular phase invited a slow response from 

Roberts and the British. After Pretoria’s surrender, large numbers of armed 

Boers still loitered in the general vicinity. Pleas to turn themselves in went 

unanswered, and every attempt to engage them with the tired forces available 

proved fruitless, no matter how hard Roberts and his subordinate commanders 

tried. Mopping-up operations gave way to dealing with numerous attacks on 

railways and telegraphs along lines of communication between occupied cities 

and towns. Even though vastly superior in numbers, the British field army 

could not be strong everywhere over a wide geographical area. The Boers 

split up into smaller organized commandos directed locally in a decentralized 

fashion. The intransigent enemy general, Christiaan De Wet, led by example 

and encouraged his followers to tear up tracks, blow up trains, cut wires, and hit 

the British where most vulnerable.26 Roberts initially considered such attacks 

a mere nuisance and made provision for the better protection of assets deemed 

valuable. He distributed the 19th Brigade, supported by mounted infantry and 

artillery, along the railway line between Pretoria and Kroonstad, and placed 

Smith-Dorrien in command over lines of communication on 11 June. The 

Canadians moved to Springs, a coal-mining town located on a branch line 

off the main railway, and established a garrison. Dispersal of British strength 

in this way contravened basic military principles, though the decision was 

understandable given thinking at the top and the perceived nature of the threat. 

Roberts wrongly assessed that the Boers lacked the capacity to carry on the fight 

for an extended period of time.27 The policy of burning farms, subsequently 

introduced in retribution to persistent Boer attacks, proved a further misstep 

and a significant escalation of matters. 

An attack on a construction train repairing damaged track on 14 June 1900 

provided the immediate justification for implementation of farm burning. Based 

on this incident, Roberts ordered Kitchener to have De Wet’s farm burned 

down and issued the following instructions to Smith-Dorrien: “You should 

let it be known that if the Railway or telegraph lines are damaged the nearest 

farm to the break will be burnt to the ground and in the event of such damage 

occurring in your section of the line you should at once burn the nearest farm. 

This will I think have a salutary effect.”28 Besides the obvious moral and legal 

complications of applying this order indiscriminately toward civilians not 

directly involved in attacks or raids, the promulgated policy rested on questionable assumptions from an operational perspective, the least of which was that 

Boer combatants would stop under such pressure. In reality, farm burning 

26 Christiaan De Wet, Three Years’ War (New York: Scribner, 1902). 27 MS, Maj Rob B. McClary, Learning the Hard Way, or Not at All: British Tactical and 

Strategic Adaptation During the Boer War, 1899–1902 (School of Advanced Military Studies, 

U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, 1999), pp. 23–24. 28 Telg C.2087, Roberts to Smith-Dorrien, 14 Jun 1900, WO 105/36, TNA.
98 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

dispossessed more people and just gave the Boers greater reasons to keep on 

fighting.29 Roberts sought a military solution to a narrow problem but, instead, 

produced an unintended effect that impeded reaching strategic and operational 

objectives in South Africa. Troops in the field, like the Canadians, carried out 

the task of turning out civilians and burning down farms reluctantly and only 

because they were ordered to. Smith-Dorrien commended several officers 

of the 2d Canadian Mounted Rifles for their farm-burning work wherever a 

breach or damage occurred to the railway. Lessard’s 1st Canadian Mounted 

Rifles and Lord Strathcona’s Horse, meanwhile, joined in active operations 

chasing the elusive Boer commandos. A Canadian lieutenant serving in the 

Brabant’s Horse wrote home: “The war is getting very tiresome. De Wet is still 

at large and we are practically doing police work.”30 Heretofore, the British 

and Canadians had been reactive in adapting to changing Boer tactics. Senior 

leaders gradually disassembled the larger organizational groupings suitable for 

conventional warfare and gave greater discretion to lower commanding officers 

and subordinates, who exercised opportunities for independent decision and 

action. Out of this field experience emerged a distinct Canadian approach to 

fighting the Boers on their own terms. 

Evolution Toward a Canadian Style of Small Warfare

Operations against the Boers necessitated reevaluation of the existing 

doctrine applied by the Canadians and the relationship with immediate British 

superiors. Canada never really had an effective reinforcement policy to replace 

losses in South Africa, and the effects of disease and combat casualties lowered 

personnel strength. Months of hard fighting and field operations through 

the spring and summer reduced infantry and mounted rifle units to less than 

half strength, with proportionately diminished combat capability. The field 

artillery was little better off, due to widely distributed deployment. Canadians 

accustomed themselves to making do with fewer persons and inadequate 

equipment. For example, most of the horses brought over from Canada in the 

second and third contingents perished due to poor diet and exhaustion brought 

on by overwork; they were replaced by inferior grades of horses and, in many 

cases, ponies. Scattered Canadian troops were brought together once again to 

perform duties along lines of communication in the Transvaal farther up the 

main railway line past Pretoria, pending arrangements to move back to Cape 

Town for return to Canada. Units were generally too weak for much other useful 

employment; having the Canadians together under Canadian officers at least 

provided some critical mass. The 1st Canadian Mounted Rifles, now known as 

the Royal Canadian Dragoons (RCD), garrisoned at Belfast, a town captured 

29 Chris Madsen, “Canadian Troops and Farm Burning in the South African War,” Canadian 

Military Journal 6 (Summer 2005): 55. 30 Ltr, Ramsay to sisters, 24 Sep 1900, R3177-0-8-E, Frederick Ramsay, LAC.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 99

on 24 August by the 11th Division roughly halfway to the railway’s terminus 

at Komati Poort. The British intended to interdict Boer supplies coming 

through Portuguese territory and to establish a firm British presence in the 

area leading to Transvaal’s full annexation. Taking advantage of challenging 

geographical features in the mountainous and hilly countryside, the Boers still 

roamed freely and resisted British incursions in a strong manner. A section of 

Royal Canadian Field Artillery under the command of Lt. Edward Morrison 

from Battery D also joined the Belfast garrison. Lessard, who returned from 

sick leave on 27 August, technically reported to Hutton for the time being; 

while in actuality, he answered directly to Lt. Col. J. W. Godfray, the station 

commander. This defensively minded British officer prohibited the Canadians 

from straying too far from Belfast, for fear of either having to come to their 

rescue or inviting a Boer attack on the town.

The RCD manned advance outposts on the edge of Belfast and performed 

limited patrolling until Lessard’s appointment as acting station commander in 

the first two weeks of October allowed for stepped-up activity. On 5 October 

1900, the Canadians conducted a reconnaissance in force consisting of sixty 

mounted troops and Morrison’s field guns as far as Weltevreden and fought a 

small action with the Boers.31 The operation, planned and executed by Lessard 

at his initiative, gained information on Boer intentions and signaled the start 

of aggressive patrols from Belfast into the hinterland. The Canadian officer 

reasoned that it was foolish to wait for the Boers to make the first move; he 

instead sought to unsettle the enemy as much as possible through surprise and 

targeted action when the opportunity arose. RCD troopers appeared where 

least expected and became better aware of local conditions. The change from 

a defensive to a more offensive stance anticipated Kitchener’s selection of 

Smith-Dorrien to organize a flying column based out of Belfast. 

Preparation and organization of forces marshaled at Belfast reflected 

subtle changes in the mode of operating against Boer irregulars. South of the 

town, the Carolina and Ermelo commandos, acting together, mauled British 

forces covering the pullback of French’s cavalry and afterward regularly cut 

the railroad.32 The senior leadership responded by forming numerous flying 

columns to seek out meddlesome Boer armed groups and destroy the basis for 

their support, in the way of foodstuffs and living dwellings. The descriptive 

word “flying” was somewhat misleading, since the predominantly infantry 

composition and ponderous supply requirements of the columns limited 

movement compared to the mobility of the faster and more flexible Boers. 

Alas, British columns could not stay away from a home base too long and 

lacked speed and size when confronted with a local enemy superior in numbers. 

During a visit to Pretoria on 26 October to watch Transvaal’s annexation 

31 RCD War Diary, 5 Oct 1900, RG 9 series II-3-A reel T-10404 vol. 32, LAC.

32 Rpt of Operations, Roberts to Secretary of State for War, 3 Jan 1901, WO 32/8001, 

TNA. French’s cavalry was withdrawing because the climate in the area was making the 

British horses sick.
100 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

parade and a troop review, Kitchener told Smith-Dorrien of his assignment 

to command the column operating from Belfast, augmented by three infantry 

battalions and mounted troops, “to assume active operations against [the] 

enemy.”33 Lessard’s Canadians and the Royal Irish Regiment were already 

there and familiar with the local situation. By this time, Kitchener was the real 

driving force because Roberts, appointed to be the next commander-in-chief 

of the British Army, was preparing to depart for London. Hardly bothered 

by humanitarian scruples, Kitchener intended to take the war directly to the 

Boer populace in an effort to wear down and outlast Boer fighters. Irregular 

opponents demanded unconventional methods with which the Canadians were 

already acquainted. The 2d Canadian Mounted Rifles, now known simply as 

the Canadian Mounted Rifles (CMR), sent a detachment of three troops to 

Belfast to join Lessard and Morrison under Smith-Dorrien’s direct command 

and control. Next, Smith-Dorrien finalized preparations and plans for several 

major expeditions in early November with Lt. Gen. Neville Lyttelton, the 

general officer commanding the 4th Division through whom Smith-Dorrien 

reported.

Operationally, the initial excursion proved a huge disappointment. 

Battalions drew three days’ rations for troops and horses ready for movement 

at short notice. The intent from the beginning was to get out and back quickly 

in a day or two. On the morning of 1 November, Smith-Dorrien briefed 

commanding officers on his plan to advance two separate columns southward 

independently, rendezvous at a designated location, and then proceed to attack 

a main camp and several houses believed to be used by Boer commandos 

for comfort and supply near Witkloof on the Komati River. Lessard’s RCD 

squadron and Morrison’s field guns provided the advance guard for the right 

column led by Lt. Col. James Spens of the Shropshire Light Infantry, while the 

CMR accompanied the left column led by Smith-Dorrien. Whereas splitting the 

force from the outset for no apparent good reason constituted an unconscionable 

error, and departure deferred until the early evening potentially compromised 

operational security. The weather worsened, with thunder, hail, driving rain, 

and falling temperatures, but instead of turning back, the troops had a very 

miserable march in the dark and spent a cold night with little sleep out in the 

open. Early next morning, the CMR became separated from the main column 

and engaged some Boers, during which Lt. T. W. Chalmers was killed trying 

to retrieve another wounded officer. By now, Smith-Dorrien realized that he 

had lost the element of surprise, and the bedraggled state of his troops probably 

made carrying on as planned a risky venture.34 He ordered the supply transport 

and columns back to Belfast, while a rear guard kept the Boers at a respectable 

distance during the withdrawal. His countrymen accorded Chalmers a funeral 

33 Diary, 26 Oct 1900, box 87/47/1, Smith-Dorrien Papers, IWM.

34 Rpt, Smith-Dorrien to Chief Staff Officer, 4th Division, Middleburg, 4 Nov 1900, WO 

105/12, TNA.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 101

with full military honors and mention to Roberts for his bravery in an otherwise 

abortive operation.35 For the Canadians, the mission was hardly a testament 

to British tactical leadership, which would be tested again during the next 

expedition that resulted in the battle that Canadians know as Liliefontein. 

Liliefontein, among Canada’s most celebrated feats of arms in South 

Africa, demonstrated the extent to which Canadian troops worked in small 

combined arms teams in the face of a determined enemy. Smith-Dorrien 

departed early on 6 November with the CMR attached to a main column and 

Lessard leading the RCD and Morrison’s field artillery with the advance troops. 

The mission picked up from where the previous expedition had left off, with 

the objective of destroying houses of known or potential use to the Boers along 

the Komati River.36 The Boer commandos, alerted to the advancing British, 

made a stand near Witkloof due to a large Boer supply convoy crossing the 

waterway; in other words, the British and Canadians threatened something 

really important to them worth defending. The infantry and field artillery 

fought all day and finally forced the Boers to retire back across the river, 

leaving Smith-Dorrien’s force to camp on high ground near Liliefontein that 

night. Instead of crossing the river the next morning, Smith-Dorrien decided 

to return to Belfast because surprise again had been lost, and the Boers were 

being reinforced. (Unbeknownst to the British, Boer commanders planned 

their own attack on the Liliefontein encampment.)

The CMR beat the Boers in a mad gallop to the heights commanding the 

route back, as Lessard, the RCD, Morrison’s field guns, and a Canadian-manned 

Colt gun covered the rear of Smith-Dorrien’s departing column. The Boers 

made repeated attempts over several hours to capture the guns as the mounted 

troops fought them off. Morrison described an eventful part of the action:

The Boers were certainly coming on with determination at that point. I went 

into action [with the guns] and soon scattered the mounted men and they 

dismounted and came on running from cover to cover and my gunners were 

soon exposed to a sharp rifle fire. Lieut Cochburn sent his men further to the 

front and we were getting this rush under control when Col. Lessard galloped 

up and said: “For God’s sake, Morrison save your guns! They are coming 

down on our flank.” He pointed out to the left (I speak always with relation 

to the front of the column—not of the rear guard) and as I looked the Boers 

35 Telg Z.390, Smith-Dorrien to Roberts, 3 Nov 1900, WO 105/15, TNA. Maj. Richard 

Turner of the RCD recorded, “Have just returned from the worst 24 hours I have experienced in 

Africa. We left camp at 5.30 pm marched until 11 pm raining heavily, and bitterly cold. From 

then until 4.30 am lined to ‘stand to’ no fires–no smoking expecting attack. Trekked at daylight 

and quite a bit of fighting all day. On the way back the gun limbers were piled up with Gordons 

played out from exposure. . . . Almost half our men are now down with rheumatism.” Diary, 4 

Nov 1900, 19710147-001, General Sir Richard Ernest William Turner, CWM. 36 Hugh John Robertson, “The Royal Canadian Dragoons and the Anglo-Boer War, 1900” 

(Master’s thesis, University of Ottawa, 1983), p. 182.
102 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

were coming on for half a mile on our flank to cut us off from the ridge above 

the spruit which was to be our next position on retiring.37

Small parties of Canadians blunted the final Boer charge long enough for 

the guns to reach safety. The Boers overran and captured sixteen troopers, 

besides inflicting fourteen casualties killed and wounded, including several 

officers. But the Canadians under Lessard and Morrison had held off a superior 

force with considerable competence and coolness under fire. In recognition 

of individual acts of bravery, Canadians received the highest British military 

honors: three Victoria Crosses and a Distinguished Service Order. The 

achievement of the Canadians overshadowed the fact that the Boers had 

chased Smith-Dorrien and his column back to Belfast. A different sort of 

expedition involving the Canadians before they left for Canada met markedly 

less resistance in the quiet area north of Belfast.

Encouraged by Kitchener, Smith-Dorrien designed the next operation 

leaving on 13 November as a punitive one to put pressure on the civilian 

population. Refugee women and children were turned out of Belfast onto the 

open veldt as the first step of psychological intimidation to say that the British 

were coming. A column comprising 80 RCD, 2 Colt teams, and Morrison’s 

2 field guns among the advance troops and 60 CMR in the main body drove 

through Boer outposts and proceeded into hostile territory, cutting a swath of 

destruction in its path to sow despair among the Boers and convince them to 

stop fighting. The expedition, which lasted the better part of four days, worked 

in conjunction with another column from Middleburg, moving up either side of 

the Steelpoort Valley, destroying and plundering in tandem.38 Troops herded the 

elderly, women, and children outside to watch their homes and belongings go 

up in flames, the livestock carried away, and the crops destroyed. A Canadian 

bombardier described the effect on the once picturesque community:

a fertile valley well populated burning the houses and ravaging the mills 

completely devastating the place ruining the owners leaving slight shelter 

for the women and children. . . . Having searched and burned Whitpoort, we 

started back leading to the right marching our route by burned and ruined 

homesteads. . . . The ravages of war began. The beautiful street lined with 

trees and foliage spring water ponds and shady nooks covered with debris 

from the dynamited houses all the dwellings burned and looted nothing being 

left for the helpless populace except a Dutch church. All the adjoining farms 

were ransacked and burned.39

37 Rpt, Morrison to Officer Commanding, Royal Canadian Field Artillery, 15 Nov 1900, 

RG 9 series II-A-3 reel T-10404 vol. 33, LAC. 38 Rpt, Smith-Dorrien to Chief Staff Officer, 4th Division, Middleburg, 18 Nov 1900, WO 

105/12, TNA. 39 Diary, 14–16 Nov 1900, 19940001-831, CWM.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 103

Canadian involvement in harsh and ruthless British methods against 

civilians was a distinguishing feature of evolving doctrine of how to deal with 

irregular opponents who refused to give up in South Africa. They accepted 

the work only grudgingly, as Morrison wrote, “It was a terrible thing to see, 

and I don’t know that I want to see another trip of the sort, but we could not 

help approving the policy, though it rather revolted most of us to be the instruments.”40 This last employment around Belfast provided a brief introduction to 

the nastier aspects of counterinsurgency operations, one the Canadians would 

not have to repeat as the RCD, CMR, and Canadian field artillery readied to 

leave South Africa, to be followed by Lord Strathcona’s Horse the following 

month. Once Kitchener replaced Roberts as operational commander, the fight 

against insurgents and policies toward civilians became systematic. Instructions 

issued in December 1900 urged,

Officers commanding columns that they should fully recognize the necessity of denuding the country of supplies and livestock, in order to secure the 

two-fold advantage of depriving the enemy the means of subsistence, and of 

being to feed their own columns to the fullest extent from the country. These, 

and not the destruction of farms and property, should be the objects of all 

columns, second only to the actual defeat of the enemy in the field.41

Eradication of crops and similar forms of sustenance took top priority. 

Irregular conflict carried on for another two years, while Canada was called 

upon to send more troops.

The departure of the Canadians evoked mixed emotions among higher 

British military commanders. Smith-Dorrien, their immediate superior officer, 

never begrudged soldiers who had fought for months and made a measurable 

contribution for wanting to return home. He thanked the RCD

for the grand work they have performed for him in the Belfast Flying Column. In 8 of the last 19 days they have been engaged with the Boers and 

have proved themselves splendidly brave and mobile mounted troops. . . . 

He can merely say that he would choose no other Mounted Troops in the 

world before them if he had his choice and he sincerely hopes the day may 

come when he may have them again under his command.42

Withdrawal of almost all available mounted troops at Belfast restricted 

operations and halted any further expeditions until more arrived. Insufficient 

troops for the tasks required remained the key constraint in British operations. 

Roberts, who also departed in late November, saw the Canadians leave “with 

40 E. W. B. Morrison, With the Guns in South Africa (Hamilton: Spectator Printing, 1901), 

pp. 277–78. 41 Circular Memo 27, 7 Dec 1900, WO 108/109, TNA.

42 Special Orders, Maj Gen H. L. Smith-Dorrien, D.S.O. Commanding Pan, to Dalmanutha, 

20 Nov 1900, 19730069-001, Turner, CWM.
104 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

deep regret, not only on account of their many soldierly qualities but because 

it materially impaired the mobility and efficiency of the Army in South Africa 

for the time being, a very critical time, too.”43 In his mind, it only served 

to prolong the war and give the Boers an opportunity to recover strength. 

Whatever the politics involved, Canadian soldiers had proven to be good 

combat troops, suited for the type of warfare in South Africa. An officer on 

Roberts’ headquarters staff held a high opinion of the Canadians: “I never 

saw finer bodies of men than the Canadian Mounted Rifles and Artillery, 

and their infantry battalion was one of the best in the army and did splendid 

work.”44 Admittedly, the Canadians left on a high note with their reputation 

intact, unmarred by the demoralizing influence of protracted counterinsurgency 

operations on conventional forces. It was a good time to bring the troops home. 

On this occasion, Prime Minister Laurier did not ask those soldiers sent to South 

Africa with a different kind of war in mind at the outset to continue sacrificing 

their lives and moral integrity for an irregular fight that lacked public support 

and a clear end. The Canadian government reserved the right to send further 

troops if requested, especially as the conflict appeared to be a long one.

Conclusion

Canadian involvement in South Africa and exposure to British small 

war doctrine at the turn of the last century remains instructive for operations 

against irregular opponents. Canadian troops tactically integrated into broader 

multinational forces in the field under a foreign operational commander and 

higher immediate superiors at the division and brigade levels. Common 

doctrine and organization, disseminated in printed manuals and taught at 

military schools of instruction, furnished the foundation for collaboration, 

reinforced and modified by practical experience in the field. The South African 

War was essentially the first time Canadian soldiers had seen major and 

sustained combat. They proved adaptable to the tactics of, first, conventional 

battles and, then, the peculiar demands of countering guerrilla warfare. The 

Canadians learned the value of preserving the national identity of formed units 

and the importance of independent command, since foreign senior officers, no 

matter how well-meaning, could not be trusted to put Canadian interests first. 

The inflexibility of the British leadership and poor assumptions in the conduct 

of the campaign were evident, especially as the conflict entered its irregular 

phase and the Boers adopted unconventional methods. British generals carried 

the Canadians along on a harsh and ruthless line of action that eventually 

made insurgents indistinguishable from the civilian population. Due to the 

effect of losses on small numbers, Canadian units were a shrinking asset in 

43 Rpt of Operations, Roberts to Secretary of State for War, 15 Nov 1900, WO 32/8001, 

TNA.44 Notes by Colonel Grierson [n.d.], WO 108/184, TNA.
LEARNING THE GOOD AND THE BAD 105

terms of manpower and combat capability. Since reconstitution was difficult, 

Canadians made do with the effective numbers available until defined periods 

of deployment ended and fresh troops arrived. There is never an opportune 

time to withdraw prior to the end of a conflict without calls of letting down the 

mission. However, the Canadians, who had become reliable and competent 

fighters, had performed admirably in months of hard operations and combat, 

for which many believed it was their turn to go home. Canadians were too 

nice to consent to the cruel efforts demanded of an operational commander 

like Kitchener, who eventually delivered a hollow victory at enormous cost 

in lives and goodwill. South Africa was just not sufficiently important enough 

for Canada to give up the lives of its soldiers over many years.

Blindness and Contingencies: Italian Failure in 

Ethiopia (1936–1940)1

Richard Carrier

The aim of this paper is to explain why Fascist Italy was incapable of 

waging a successful campaign of pacification in Ethiopia between 1936 and 

1940. The Fascist regime was capable of planning, preparing, and fighting 

a massive “national war” against Ethiopia in 1935–1936.2 The capture of 

Addis Ababa in May 1936 was followed by a long, difficult, often brutal, and 

inconclusive campaign of pacification. In the end, Mussolini’s blindness and 

at least three contingencies made the pacification of the country an almost 

impossible task.

Fascist Campaigns in Africa: A Brief Overview

The presence of Fascist Italy on African soil was the result of a mixed desire 

for prestige, glory, and some sort of social rejuvenation. Mussolini’s interest in 

this continent was to result in a long campaign in Libya that was a real success 

in an irregular war. In Ethiopia, after six months of uneasy operations and a 

victory claimed with the capture of Addis Ababa, a pacification campaign 

began but finally turned into a stalemate. Simply put, “as ventures in applied 

military force, they differed dramatically from one another in outcome: from 

Rome’s point of view, Libya was a success and Abyssinia a failure.”3

The Fascist campaign in Libya was a legacy of liberal Italy’s attempt 

to establish itself as a colonial power. It was the continuation of the war 

orchestrated in 1911 by Prime Minister Giovanni Giolitti against the Ottoman 

Empire.4 The campaign that took place in the twenties and the early thirties 

was a typical colonial military operation: it was a long, frustrating fight against 

a dedicated and skillful enemy, kept quiet by the government because the 

1 Four very close meanings of contingency: “The condition of being liable to happen or 

not in the future,” “uncertainty of occurrence or incidence,” “the befalling or occurrence of 

anything without preordination,” and “the condition of being free from predetermining necessity 

in regard to existence or action.” Oxford English Dictionary, 2d ed., vol. III (Oxford: Clarendon 

Press, 1989). 2 Giorgio Rochat, Militari e politici nella preparazione della campagna d’Etiopia, ed. 

Franco Angeli (1971). 3 John Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression: Fascist Italy’s Pacification of Libya and 

Ethiopia, 1922–1939,” Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 6 (December 2005): 1006. 4Lucio Ceva, Storia delle forze armate in Italia (UTET, 1999), pp. 111–13.
108 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

results were often slim.5 As so frequently in colonial warfare, Italian military 

superiority was overwhelming: 33,500 troops, modern equipment, and the 

logistical facilities for the pacification of a country with a population of just 

over one million.6

Despite a clear military and technical edge over the insurgent forces, the 

Italian political and military leadership faced a resistance strong enough to 

drag them into a long campaign. Brian Sullivan, in his study of the Italian 

military during the interwar period, considers that the learning curve of the 

Italians in knowing the enemy was slow: “What they lacked, despite 11 

years of experience in Libya, was an understanding of their opponents.”7 It 

is worth noting that the Italians tried to narrow their cultural and sociological 

shortcomings and sometimes demonstrated finesse in their pacification 

efforts.8 Sullivan proposes that the campaign could have been much shorter 

with more money invested, a proposal that is certainly debatable.9 Finally, 

Marshal Pietro Badoglio, chief of the Supreme General Staff, and General 

Rodolfo Graziani, newly appointed vice governor of Cyrenaica, understood in 

the summer of 1930 that the guerrilla could be beaten only with an increased 

use of violence in the repression.10 Their combined efforts in late 1930 and 

1931 to isolate the insurgents from the population eloquently demonstrated 

the effectiveness of this form of counterinsurgency, especially with the use 

of internment camps.11

The pacification of Libya was successfully achieved in early 1932.12 By 

then, the territory of Libya was under effective Italian control, and armed 

violence against the occupying force ceased. This achievement was a necessity 

“before Mussolini could strike out on his own.”13 Now Mussolini had a free 

hand to prepare his own campaign, one that would have been politically and 

militarily risky to undertake without this previous success in North Africa. 

5 Denis Mack Smith, Mussolini (Weidenfeld, 1993), p. 170. 6 Brian R. Sullivan, “A Thirst for Glory: Mussolini, the Italian Military and the Fascist 

Regime, 1922–1936” (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1984), p. 227. 7 Ibid. 

8 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” pp. 1008, 1010.

9 Sullivan, “A Thirst for Glory,” p. 255.

10 Giorgio Rochat and Giulio Massobrio, Breve storia dell’esercito italiano dal 1861 al 

1943 (Einaudi, 1978), p. 246.

11 For a thorough and blunt explanation of the role of violence and brutalization in winning 

pacification campaigns, see Gil Merom, How Democracies Lose Small Wars: State, Society, and 

the Failures of France in Algeria, Israel in Lebanon, and the United States in Vietnam (New 

York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 33–47, especially the strategy of “isolation,” pp. 

38–41. On internment, see Nicola Labanca, “Italian Colonial Internment” in Ruth Ben-Ghiat 

and Mia Fuller, Italian Colonialism (Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), pp. 27–36. 12 Romano Canosa, Graziani. Il mareciallo d’Italia, dalla guerra d’Ethiopia alla Repubblica 

di Salò (Mondadori, 2004), p. 75. 13 MacGregor Knox, Common Destiny: Dictatorship, Foreign Policy, and War in Fascist 

Italy and Nazi Germany (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 87.
BLINDNESS AND CONTINGENCIES 109

Even if it is difficult to evaluate the impact of the Libyan campaign on the 

Ethiopian one, Sullivan did not hesitate, stating

Ruthlessness against civilians and insurgents, either in Europe or Africa, was 

not a novelty for the Italian military. But the particular techniques developed 

in Libya: that is, the destruction of food supplies, the massive use of poison 

gas, the institution of concentration camps and the resort to genocide, would 

all be applied later, on a massive scale, in Ethiopia. In addition, the same 

leaders, trained in Libya, would direct these measures.14

The invasion of Ethiopia was “the last campaign of colonial conquest to be 

fought by a European power.”15 According to Giorgio Rochat, a leading Italian 

military historian, it was a “national war,” a war fought as much for the needs 

of internal politics as for those of international prestige, with massive military 

deployment, sophisticated and well-orchestrated propaganda, and an economic 

effort far beyond the necessities of a normal colonial war.16 The Ethiopian war, 

fought between October 1935 and May 1936, became Mussolini’s greatest 

success and maybe was the most popular war in the history of Italy.17 The regime 

had its finest hour, and few people in Italy were contesting the achievement of Il 

Duce, even if popular enthusiasm did not rise instantly in October 1935.18 The 

response of the international community and the economic sanctions against their 

country persuaded the Italians that this was a legitimate war.19 Most thought that 

the well-being of the nation, its right to belong to the “great powers,” and hence 

its colonial policy were as legitimate as the ones of Great Britain and France. The 

sanctions were then seen as a form of aggression against the Italian nation.20

The Italian invasion of Ethiopia was a huge military enterprise.21 In this 

“American” type of war, logistical nightmares became more serious obstacles 

than the enemy’s resistance.22 After the initial advance into Ethiopian territory 

14 Sullivan, “A Thirst for Glory,” p. 256. 

15 Michael Howard, “The Military Factor in European Expansion,” in Hedley Bull, Adam 

Watson, The Expansion of International Society (Clarendon Press, 1984), p. 41. 16 Giorgio Rochat, Les guerres italiennes en Libye et en Éthiopie, 1921-1939, Service 

historique de l’Armée de l’air (Vincennes, 1994), pp. 14–15. The war of 1911–1912 against 

the Ottoman Empire was also a national war, according to Rochat and to Oreste Bovio, Storia 

dell’esercito italiano, 1861–1990, Stato maggiore dell’esercito, Ufficio storico (Rome, 1996), 

p. 189. 17 Ceva, Storia delle forze armate, p. 232. 18 Smith, Mussolini, p. 197. 19 Ibid.; MacGregor Knox, Hitler’s Italian Allies. Royal Armed Forces, Fascist Regime, 

and the War of 1940–1943 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 11. 20 Pierre Milza and Serge Berstein, Le fascisme italien, 1919–1945 (Éditions du Seuil, 

1980), pp. 341–42. 21 Ceva, Storia delle forze armate, pp. 234–35; Bovio, Storia dell’esercito italiano, p. 281. 22 Ceva, Storia delle forze armate, p. 235. On the logistics of the Ethiopian campaign, 

Ferrucio Botti, La logistica dell’esercito italiano (1831–1981), vol. 3, Stato maggiore 

dell’esercito, Ufficio storico (Rome, 1994), pp. 552–647.
110 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

in October 1935, the shortcomings of the minister of the colonies, Emilio De 

Bono, as commander in chief and the Duce’s pressure on him put the Italian 

forces in a state of crisis.23 Badoglio replaced De Bono by mid-November, 

and after some months of reorganization (and some Ethiopian successes), took 

the offensive in February 1936. He finally reached and occupied the capital, 

Addis Ababa, by 5 May. The war, it was said or thought, was over.

But it was not. Gooch reminds us that the victory was an illusion.

Only one third of Ethiopia had been occupied, the Italians controlling the 

routes from Eritrea to Addis Ababa and from Somalia via Harar to Dira Dawa. 

Italy spent the next five years attempting to conquer the rest of the country, in 

which some 25,000 rebels were under arms in any one year, but large areas of 

the north and north-west permanently eluded their rule. To do this, Graziani 

and its successor, the Duke of Aosta, had 466,000 white and colonial troops 

in 1936, 237,000 (of whom three-quarters were white) in 1937, and 280,000 

(of whom three-sevenths were white) in 1938–1939.24

It is difficult to know to what extent Mussolini understood what would 

follow the capture of Addis Ababa. “On the surface all appeared calm, but 

despite Mussolini’s optimistic forecasts, the war was anything but over.”25 In 

the years to come, the pacification process cost Italy 9,555 dead and 140,000 

wounded or sick.26 Italian forces in East Africa were in a position of strategic 

weakness; it was easy for the British to “raise the tribes” against the Italian 

troops in 1940–1941.27 The differences between the Libyan success and the 

Ethiopian failure in pacification are substantial:

The results are explicable in large part as the consequence of differences in 

the nature and effectiveness of operational methods; in Libya, the Italians 

had the time to experiment and the military capacity to develop the expertise 

required to win their war, whereas in Abyssinia neither was the case. Physical 

geography was an important factor in deciding the outcome in both theatres. 

So, too, was political ethnography and the uses which the Italians did or did 

not make of it. Finally, the harshly repressive policies adopted in Libya and 

in Abyssinia were pursued with self-consciously Fascist rigour, with quite 

different consequences.28

Despite hundreds of thousands of troops, equipment, air power, use of 

gas, and brutal and ferocious attempts to destroy the insurgency, Fascist Italy 

23 Ceva, Storia delle forze armate, p. 235. 24 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1022.

25 Angelo Del Boca, The Ethiopian War, 1935–1941, trans. P. D. Cummins (Chicago: 

University of Chicago Press, 1969), p. 212. 26 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1025.

27 Dawn M. Miller, “Raising the Tribes: British Policy in Italian East Africa, 1938–41,” 

Journal of Strategic Studies 22, no. 1 (March 1999): 96–123. 28 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1006.
BLINDNESS AND CONTINGENCIES 111

was not able to overcome the Ethiopian resistance.29 It seems that Ethiopia 

became a place where violence and brutality didn’t work.30

Mussolini’s Blindness

To pacify a country is a complex and difficult task. Political shrewdness 

is a prerequisite, not an option. Whatever the origins of Mussolini’s dream 

of rebuilding the Roman Empire, he clearly misunderstood the implications 

of conquering Ethiopia. His blindness—his incapacity to see what should be 

done or what the reality truly was—operated at two levels.

A first level of blindness was grounded in his belief, conscious or not, that 

victory came with the fall of Addis Ababa. Two reasons probably explain why 

Mussolini associated the fall of the capital with victory. The first was linked 

to the necessities of propaganda, internal and external, in a time of European 

political tension. Mussolini needed a rapid decision, and the capture of Addis 

Ababa became the decisive tool of his propaganda apparatus: Italy won a 

campaign over an enemy in a war that many European observers had predicted 

would be a long war.31 With this victory, the debate about the legitimacy of 

the invasion became irrelevant. Italy had to be recognized as a world power, 

its Duce as a great leader. The second reason had a more technical nature: the 

capture of the capital city was also marking the relative disintegration of the 

Ethiopian army. Numerous Ethiopian soldiers were still armed but leaderless, 

and most units lost their cohesion. If we also consider that the capture of a 

capital was frequently seen in the history of conventional warfare as a decisive 

step, if not the decisive step, of a military campaign, the temptation was too 

strong for Mussolini to resist. The fighting was over, and it was thought that 

the Ethiopians had accepted Italian rule. The idea that armed resistance against 

the invader would now take a different form did not seem to have occurred 

to Mussolini.

These two reasons are not sufficient to excuse Mussolini for his blindness. His incapacity to understand the nature of war was deeply rooted in 

his personality.32 If war is, to paraphrase Quincy Wright, “a violent conflict 

between two organized human groups,” then the fall of Addis Ababa was not 

the end of the war, but surely the opening of Pandora’s box.33 For Mussolini, 

29 On the use of gas during the war and the pacification campaign, Alberto Sbacchi, 

“Poison Gas and Atrocities in the Italo-Ethiopian War (1935–1936),” in Ben-Ghiat and Fuller, 

Italian Colonialism, pp. 47–56, and Rochat, Les guerres italiennes en Libye et en Éthiopie,

pp. 183–226. 30 For many examples of the opposite result, Merom, How Democracies Lose Small Wars, 

pp. 33–47. 31 Smith, Mussolini, p. 201. 32 On this topic, see Renzo De Felice, Mussolini l’alleato. I. L’Italia in guerra 1940–1943, 

1. Dalla guerra “breve” alla guerra lunga (Einaudi, 1990), p. 52. 33 Quincy Wright, A Study of War, 2d ed., abridged (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 

1983), pp. 6–7.
112 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the objective of the war was achieved with the fall of the city; he didn’t 

foresee what was to come, probably because he didn’t care. Call it irregular 

war, nonconventional war, guerrilla war, or small war, the reality was that 

from mid-May 1936 until the beginning of the Second World War in East 

Africa in 1940, Italian troops and Ethiopian fighters were in a state of war.34

The prestige and the glory gained by the victory vanished quite rapidly. In the 

days after the capture of the capital,

The standing force of 426 officers and 9,934 men that garrisoned the forest 

city and its extensive outskirts was, in fact, almost ringed round by 50,000 

leaderless Ethiopian soldiers, the majority of whom had been disbanded, but 

all of whom were armed. Most of the empire, indeed, was only nominally 

under Italian domination.35

Libya should have been a lesson learned: a national war turning into a 

long pacification campaign. But Ethiopia was of much greater complexity than 

Libya: a large population, a difficult geography, and, most of all, a civilization 

that would not accept foreign domination without fighting. Mussolini should 

have known that. If there was some preparation and planning for the invasion, 

there was none for its pacification.36 Mussolini’s blindness and military 

amateurship are the main reasons for that. Considering his antimilitarismo, 

his military entourage lacked the necessary influence and power to make him 

understand the implications of pacification.

His blindness operated at a second level. Time is among the most precious 

weapons in a pacification campaign. It is undeniable that “oppressors hardly 

ever intended to let insurgency wars drag on or bleed them so much as to make 

their losses unacceptable.”37 But the more time a conqueror has, the more he 

can figure out what is the right strategy to win against an insurgent movement.38

Here lies a major difference between Libya and Ethiopia. In the first case, 

Mussolini was in no hurry; he inherited a situation at a time of relative European 

political tranquility. The pacification campaign in Libya lasted almost ten 

years and was characterized by major differences in the areas to be controlled, 

Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, and by a necessity to adapt to these differences.39

Despite the length of the process, the Italian military was never truly pressured 

by political necessities or international circumstances. Time was on its side 

34 On terminology, see Frank G. Hoffman, “Small Wars Revisited: The United States and 

Nontraditional Wars,” Journal of Strategic Studies 28, no. 6 (December 2005): 915–16. 35 Del Boca, The Ethiopian War, p. 212. 36 Rochat, Les guerres italiennes en Libye et en Éthiopie, p. 230. 37 Merom, How Democracies Lose Small Wars, p. 34. 38 On these strategies, ibid., pp. 33–47.

39 On the many difficult steps of adaptation, Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” pp. 

1007–21; Rochat and Massobrio, Breve storia dell’esercito italiano, p. 247.
BLINDNESS AND CONTINGENCIES 113

and adaptation became possible. The esercito italiano finally summoned the 

flexibility and determination it needed to perform efficiently.40

The invasion of Ethiopia was made possible only “by the rupture of the 

European equilibrium caused by German rearmament.”41 Mussolini needed 

a quick victory because he became prisoner of this quite volatile European 

equilibrium. On 24 October 1936, almost seven months after the glorious days 

of May and the fall of the capital, he declared: “It took us seven months to 

conquer the empire, but to occupy and pacify it will take us far less time.”42

It is impossible to know if Mussolini really believed what he said and if he 

understood the complexity of the situation. But most probably, he had no 

interest in the management of the pacification of the newly acquired empire. 

European politics diverted his interest from Africa. The Spanish Civil War 

became his next political and military adventure, and his objective, again, was 

to establish his personal prestige as a great leader.

The pacification of Ethiopia would have needed a well-prepared strategy 

and, probably, more resources for the forze armate than the ones allocated 

after 1936. None of these conditions were met. European politics recaptured 

the attention of Mussolini, and improvisation in repression became the only 

strategy used by Graziani. But most of all, time was short and the timing was 

bad. The probability of a European war grew rapidly, and the unpacified East 

African Italian empire became more of a burden than an asset for a future war, 

a situation perfectly acknowledged by the Duke of Aosta in 1939. Mussolini 

didn’t give time a chance and then considerably reduced the possibilities of 

adaptation to the insurgency.

Mussolini was responsible for not seeing the rise of an insurgency. He 

was also guilty of not giving his “grand colonial policy” the attention, the 

resources, and, most of all, the amount of time required to make pacification 

possible. His thirst for glory and desire to affirm himself as a great ruler largely 

diminished the chances of conquering the Ethiopian territory. But there were 

also contingencies. At least three made the pacification of Ethiopia a desperate 

undertaking.

Contingency One

As soon as the military campaign in Ethiopia was over, the Duce dictated a 

policy of direct rule over the country. In a series of famous telegrams, Mussolini 

declared that Fascist Italy would not, in any way, share power with the local 

chiefs or nobles. “No power to the ras” became Mussolini’s strategy for the 

control and management of Ethiopia. The sources of this policy are unknown. 

Gooch noted that:

40 Rochat and Massobrio, Breve storia dell’esercito italiano, p. 247. 41 Ceva, Storia delle forze armate, p. 232. 42 Del Boca, The Ethiopian War, p. 216.
114 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Mussolini, however, refused to contemplate it for reasons that he never made 

explicit but which amounted to a conviction that for historical, ideological 

and practical reasons Italian power in Ethiopia was not to be shared with 

natives and not to be seen as shared.43

This policy was a contingency, and in no way something that had to 

happen. Mussolini’s political unpredictability could have led to a different 

policy. Rochat proposed that the Libyan experience was the reason Mussolini 

was obsessed by the idea of depriving the ruling class of any form of political 

power.44 Mussolini thought that the experience of collaborating with Libyan 

elites made the pacification process longer. Even if Rochat’s proposal seems 

logical, it is impossible to demonstrate if, indeed, this was the case. What 

is known for sure is that the use of extreme violence and brutalization in a 

country with a very small population destroyed the Libyan insurgency in 

1931–1932. 

If the policy of no power to the ras was an occurrence preordained, then 

Badoglio and Graziani should have seen the coming of its implementation. 

Needless to say, neither of them was consulted; Badoglio disagreed openly 

and Graziani expressed numerous reservations, in vain.45 The strong support 

of Alessandro Lessona, the new minister of colonies, transformed the policy 

into a slogan, a catchword used at every occasion to justify indiscriminate 

violence. According to Rochat, Lessona supported the policy of no power 

to the ras in order to consolidate the power of his ministry over the Empire: 

any sharing of power would have meant less for him.46 Interestingly enough, 

Graziani did talk frequently with nobles and chiefs who were opposed to the 

previous political order and tried to use them as much as possible as supporting 

elements of the Italian rule. At the end of July 1936, his proposal to give to some 

chiefs and nobles some sort of power met Mussolini’s refusal.47 The Duce’s 

obsession with a policy of direct rule was not only against common sense, 

it also became one of the reasons why the hearts and minds of the Ethiopian 

people were never conquered. 

Contingency Two

The assassination attempt on Graziani’s life on 19 February 1937 was 

certainly a major element in unleashing the violence and brutalization that were 

the trademarks of the Italian occupation of Ethiopia. In the days and months 

following the attempt, violence and brutalization took a different dimension; 

they became almost systematic and much more extended. Rochat carefully talks 

43 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1026.

44 Rochat, Les guerres italiennes en Libye et en Éthiopie, p. 231. 45 Ibid.

46 Ibid., p. 233.

47 Ibid. 
BLINDNESS AND CONTINGENCIES 115

of a “genocide” process.48 Despite the fact that violence and brutalization have 

been used extensively in counterinsurgency strategies in history, it has been 

proposed earlier that violence and brutalization became ineffective tools in the 

pacification of the freshly conquered empire. The Italian failure to pacifying 

Ethiopia was caused, in part, by the counterproductive effects of violence and 

brutalization, both largely deriving from this second contingency.

The failed attempt was a contingency, something that could have never 

taken place. The two individuals involved were not Ethiopians. No large groups 

were really supporting them, despite many attempts by Fascist authorities to 

link specific groups to the action. In fact, it was almost an isolated action. But 

the “orgy of violence” that followed was real and degenerative. At the news 

of the attempt, Guido Cortese, a Fascist party leader in the capital, ordered 

a vendetta. The perpetrators were ordinary Italian colonists; the victims, 

Ethiopians who were living in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. This 

wave of killing was not planned; it was an instantaneous reaction, but one 

that received the support of Graziani, Lessona, and, of course, Mussolini. 

After the terrible days of killing in the capital, a more extended operation took 

place in order to identify and kill all the people who could have been linked 

to the assassination attempt. Eventually, all the leading social and political 

elite of Ethiopia became the target of a repression campaign, the killing of 

monks at the monastery of Debra Libanos in May being only one example. In 

this campaign of terror, Graziani asked for the deportation of many notables, 

the destruction of entire parts of the capital, and the installation of a massive 

concentration camp for those rendered homeless. Rochat says that the last 

request is evidence that Graziani lost his nerve, and, this time, even Mussolini 

showed some restraint.49

In the months following the attempt, several thousand Ethiopians of different 

social statuses were killed in reprisals, and the failed attempt against the viceroy 

opened a gap between the Italian authorities and the local population.50

If the oppressors are uninterested in reconciling their interests with those of the 

oppressed, then the incentive to escalate the level of violence is compelling. 

The chances are that a less selective use of violence will cut the costs and 

reduce the time of planning and executing each of the strategies of pacification. From an expedient point of view, then, the movement on the strategic 

scale from selective eradication to indiscriminate annihilation is tempting. 

In that sense, counterinsurgency is inherently degenerative.51

This gap did not narrow as violence and brutalization became more than 

ever the sole tool of pacification. Graziani lost his position in November 1937. 

48 Ibid., p. 263.

49 Ibid., p. 258.

50 Canosa, Graziani. Il mareciallo d’Italia, p. 159. 51 Merom, How Democracies Lose Small Wars, pp. 46–47.
116 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Ethiopia proved to be a more complex challenge for him than Libya had been. 

The chances that his replacement would make a difference were slim.

Contingency Three

Amedeo di Savoia, Duke of Aosta, became the new viceroy of Ethiopia 

in late 1937. The man was seen inside the military leadership as a moderate 

and one who could change the tide even if, because of Mussolini’s blindness, 

time was running out.52 As Del Boca noted, expectations were high.

It had been impressed on him that he was to pacify the country at all costs 

but he was to achieve this end by more humane, more conciliatory methods 

than his predecessor. The Duke, a cultured and liberal-minded man, was by 

nature ideally equipped for the task of persuading the Ethiopians to cooperate 

with the Italians, but the errors made by Graziani were irreparable.53

If Mussolini was so persuaded that only repression, violence, and the policy 

of direct rule would make pacification and control of the empire possible, 

then the choice of the Duke of Aosta is a contradictory one. But this paper 

proposes that slogans like “all rebels made prisoner are to be shot” and “no 

power to the ras” were far from being the result of a serious decision-making 

process based on the analysis of the Ethiopian situation. The choice of di 

Savoia was a contingency, one possibility among others. The probability that 

he was deliberately chosen for his liberal-minded attitude and his moderation 

is low. 

The new viceroy gave a series of orders dedicated to imposing some 

restraint upon the use of violence by Italian forces.54 Soon after his arrival, 

he got a new commander in chief of the armed forces in Italian East Africa, 

General Hugo Cavallero. Cavallero’s knowledge of Ethiopia was superficial in 

every sense, his expertise in colonial warfare or insurgency thin. His presence, 

a complementary contingency, complicated the task of the viceroy. In 1938, 

Cavallero launched a series of military operations against the “patriots,” 

claiming the deaths of thousands of them in many of the most rebellious regions 

of the country.55 Cavallero continued the brutal methods used by Graziani, 

particularly the use of poison gas.56

The opposing personalities and numerous disagreements between the Duke 

of Aosta and Cavallero made the task of pacification no easier and slowed 

the former’s attempts to try different methods. Cavallero resigned in May 

1939, and it was only then that the duke was able to implement a new policy 

52 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1025.

53 Del Boca, The Ethiopian War, p. 239. 54 Ibid., pp. 241, 248. 55 Gooch, “Re-conquest and Suppression,” p. 1025.

56 Ibid.
BLINDNESS AND CONTINGENCIES 117

that was a partial rupture with Mussolini’s no power to the ras.

57 The viceroy 

recognized that some remote areas were de facto outside the Italian occupation, and tacitly left them to the insurgents’ control.58 In other areas, where 

cooperation between the Italians and the locals was encouraged, the results 

obtained were good but not sufficient to completely defeat the insurgents. 

They came too late, and the coming of the Second World War gave a second 

life to the insurgency in 1940.

Conclusion

It is tempting to propose that the Italian adventure in Ethiopia was a 

fiasco. The military victory announced with the fall of Addis Ababa and 

Haile Selassie’s exile was a delusive one. The pacification campaign cannot 

be considered a success. The empire-building strategy was a failure.59 Almost 

five years after the emperor’s exile to London in 1936, he was back in his 

liberated country. Mussolini’s Roman Empire was gone. 

Adaptation over time, flexibility, and extreme brutalization made the 

pacification of Libya a success for Fascist Italy. Merom’s theory is that 

Violence is not only the primary means of getting the desired results of war. 

Rather, it is also a way of managing its costs. In other words, states resort 

to greater and less selective methods of brutality in pacification wars not 

only because these prove to be effective, but also because they prove to be 

efficient. Higher levels of violence can cut down on the investment and loss 

of manpower and material, both through the destruction involved and the 

fear generated.60

This theory was proved to be inaccurate in the case of Ethiopia. Indeed, 

extensive use of violence and brutalization probably aroused more defiance than 

defeatism. Mussolini’s misunderstanding of the consequences of his invasion 

of Ethiopia put Italy into a complex campaign of pacification. His obsession 

to play a role in European politics, particularly in Spain, diverted him from 

African affairs. The pacification of Ethiopia needed time, certainly as much as 

in the Libyan case. But because of Mussolini’s miscalculations, time rapidly 

ran out as the pacification efforts bogged down into a stalemate in 1938–1939. 

Mussolini’s role in the failure to pacify Ethiopia is not a debatable issue, 

although it is not the entire explanation. The three contingencies developed 

in this paper show that sometimes historical explanations are to be found 

through occurrences free from necessity or preordination. The “no power to 

57 Rochat, Les guerres italiennes en Libye et en Éthiopie, p. 34. 58 Ibid.

59 Haile Larebo, “Empire Building and Its Limitations: Ethiopia (1935–1941),” in Ben-Ghiat 

and Fuller, Italian Colonialism, pp. 83–94. 60 Merom, How Democracies Lose Small Wars, p. 43.
118 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the ras” approach, the failed attempt on Graziani’s life, and the unfortunate 

pairing of the Duke of Aosta and Cavallero made the pacification of Ethiopia 

almost an impossible task.
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 

Balancing and Integrating Military and Civilian 

Efforts from Aceh to Uruzgan

Thijs W. Brocades Zaalberg

At the outset of the twenty-first century, the United States is obviously not 

the only Western country troubled by the harsh realities of counterinsurgency 

campaigning. Several of its closest allies, such as the United Kingdom, Canada, 

Australia, and the Netherlands, have become embroiled in this form of irregular 

warfare. On two occasions, in both Iraq and Afghanistan, the Netherlands 

armed forces followed in the wake of a U.S.-led offensive in order to help 

stabilize these nations confronted with chaos and insurgency. From July 2003 

until March 2005, some 1,200 Dutch troops were in charge of stabilizing 

Al Muthanna Province in southern Iraq. The Dutch operation in the south, 

executed under British divisional command, had some of the characteristics of 

a counterinsurgency campaign, but a full-blown insurgency did not emerge at 

the time in Al Muthanna. Therefore, this Dutch operation cannot be considered 

a counterinsurgency operation as such.1 However, in Afghanistan’s southern 

Uruzgan Province, over 1,500 Dutch troops have been engaged in a complex 

counterinsurgency operation since the summer of 2006 as part of NATO’s 

International Security and Assistance Force (ISAF).2

In the colonial days, the Dutch would have referred to these operations 

as pacification campaigns. Unhampered by elaborate modern definitions of 

counterinsurgency, irregular warfare, or stabilization and reconstruction, they 

may have also used the generic term small wars. This term, a direct translation 

of the term guerrilla, was in vogue in the late nineteenth and early twentieth 

century, during the era of modern imperialism. At the time, the Netherlands 

was a minor power, but it owned vast colonial possessions. The Netherlands 

East Indies, the precursor to the state known after 1949 as Indonesia, was 

created through gradual imperial conquest since the seventeenth century. 

The Dutch began with wresting a small foothold on Java in 1619, at a time 

when the Dutch Republic still ranked among the world’s greatest powers. 

1 In January 2006, Al Muthanna was the first Iraqi province outside Kurdish territory 

where the Iraqi government gained full responsibility for internal security. The Netherlands 

Institute for Military History (NIMH) has started research for a publication on Dutch military 

operations in southern Iraq. 2 In December 2007, the Dutch government committed itself to keeping this force in 

Uruzgan until mid-2010. 
120 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

They finalized the borders of the state of Indonesia as it currently is with the 

conquest of Aceh (northernmost Sumatra) and Bali in 1909. On the eve of the 

Second World War, only British India competed with the Netherlands East 

Indies in the wealth it brought to a colonial power. The archipelago, with a 

population estimated at seventy million, was certainly far more important 

to the Dutch economy than India was to Britain’s.

During this process of colonial expansion, the Dutch colonial army 

frequently met with irregular resistance. Right after the Second World War, 

the Dutch armed forces again found themselves fighting a guerrilla war during 

the Indonesian struggle for independence that lasted until 1949. Little is known 

internationally about the Dutch experience in small wars and counterinsurgency. Professor Ian F. W. Beckett appears to be the only non-Dutch author 

who, in an English publication, briefly mentions the Dutch experience in his 

comparative analysis called The Roots of Counter-Insurgency.

3

 But there 

is another important reason for analyzing Dutch experience in countering 

insurgencies. The Dutch style of operations in Afghanistan’s Uruzgan Province 

has placed a lot of emphasis on avoiding the use of military force—or what in 

modern military jargon is awkwardly called nonkinetic methods. According to 

Beckett, “A particular army’s counter-insurgency practice has so frequently 

evolved from its past colonial experience.”4 The question this paper therefore 

addresses is whether there is continuity in the Dutch approach to fighting 

irregular opponents. Is there a tradition—perhaps similar to that of the British 

with their minimum-force philosophy—that can explain the current Dutch 

approach to countering irregular opponents?

A “Dutch Approach” in Afghanistan?

NATO operations in southern Afghanistan neatly match current definitions 

of counterinsurgency. However, the Dutch government officially avoids the 

term in relation to its contribution to this mission. An American audience is 

likely to ask what these military forces are doing in southern Afghanistan if 

not countering the Taliban insurgency. It appears to be a matter of emphasis. 

At the outset of the mission, the Netherlands government tended to present 

3 Ian Beckett, The Roots of Counter-Insurgency: Armies and Guerrilla Warfare, 1900–1945

(New York: Blandford Press, 1988), p. 153. Another comparative analysis, one that fails 

to mention the Dutch experience, is David Charters and Maurice Tugwell, eds., Armies in 

Low-Intensity Conflict: A Comparative Analysis (London: Brassey’s, 1989). There are many 

publications in English on the Indonesian revolution and the Dutch political and military response 

but not from a counterinsurgency perspective. Petra Groen has written an excellent dissertation 

on Dutch military strategy in Indonesia between 1945 and 1949, and many other Dutch studies 

on military operations exist, but, even in the Netherlands, little is known about policing and 

the civil administrative side of the struggle. Petra Groen, Marsroutes en Dwaalsporen: Het 

Nederlandse Militair-Strategische Beleid in Indonesië (Den Haag, 1991). 4 Ian F. W. Beckett, “Forward to the Past: Reflections on British Responses to Insurgency,” 

Militaire Spectator 177, no. 3 (March 2008).
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 121

Dutch operations in Uruzgan as a reconstruction effort rather than irregular 

warfare. Stabilization operations by military forces were only a part of the 

solution—“enablers” for the real mission: reconstruction of a war-torn society. 

After exchanging ideas with senior European officers in southern Afghanistan 

in late 2006, the Australian counterinsurgency specialist and adviser David 

Kilcullen, slightly uncomfortable with what he heard, called this “a development model to counter-insurgency.”5

In line with the emphasis on stabilization and reconstruction rather than 

combat, the Dutch Ministries of Defence and Foreign Affairs stressed the 

importance of “the comprehensive approach,” the integrated civil-military 

approach, or “3-D approach,” tying together defense, diplomacy, and development. In early 2006, there was even talk in political and military circles in 

The Hague about a certain unique “Dutch approach” to stabilization and 

reconstruction that placed extra emphasis on respect for the local population 

and its customs.6 From a historical perspective, the latter term seemed rather 

pretentious. If the direct approach to counterinsurgency is a singular focus 

on the annihilation of enemy forces with military means, the Dutch—both 

politicians and the military—embraced an indirect, population-centered 

approach to countering insurgents, which is by no means unique.

One could raise doubts about political rhetoric matching operational 

realities on the ground in Afghanistan. The 1,500-strong Dutch military force 

in southern Afghanistan included a battle group, Special Forces, and tracked 

155-mm. howitzers, with Dutch Apache attack helicopters and F–16s in 

support. The Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) was officially at the heart 

of the mission but did not exceed fifty persons.7 However, even in military 

circles, little emphasis was placed on the use of military force. The population, 

or rather, “the hearts and minds of the people,” was considered the center of 

gravity, rather than killing or capturing the insurgents. In April 2007, the New 

York Times quoted the commander of the Dutch Task Force Uruzgan, Col. 

Hans van Griensven, in an article entitled “Dutch Forces Stress Restraint in 

Afghanistan.” The colonel stated, “We are not here to fight the Taliban. We are 

here to make the Taliban irrelevant.”8 When it came to applying some of the 

classic British counterinsurgency principles, the Dutch appeared to be holier 

5Kilcullen quote in George Packer, “Knowing the Enemy: Can Social Scientists Redefine 

the ‘War on Terror’?” New Yorker, 18 Dec 2006. 6On 9 January 2006, the term Dutch approach was first officially coined in relation to the 

mission in Uruzgan by Chief of Defence General Dick Berlijn. Steven Derix, “Zonder troepen 

blijft de nodige hulp uit: hoogste militair pleit voor missie Uruzgan,” NRC Handelsblad, 10 Jan 

2006. See also Robert H. E. Gooren, “Soldiering in Unfamiliar Places: The Dutch Approach,” 

Military Review (March–April 2006). 7Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) was officially “built around” the PRT. Brief aan de Eerste en 

Tweede Kamer van minister van Buitenlandse Zaken en de minister van Defensie betreffende 

Nederlandse bijdrage aan ISAF in Zuid-Afghanistan, 22 Dec 2005 (DVB/CV-388/05). 8 C. J. Chivers, “Dutch Forces Stress Restraint in Afghanistan,” New York Times, 

5 Apr 2007.
122 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

than the Pope. These “classic counterinsurgency principles” include stressing 

the need for a political rather than a military solution, civil-military cooperation, 

“winning the hearts and minds,” minimum use of force, and so on.9

To answer the question of whether there is continuity to the Dutch history 

of counterinsurgency operations, this paper harkens back to the two largest 

and most crucial campaigns in our colonial past: the war in Aceh (1873–1909) 

and the Indonesian War of Decolonization (1945–1949). In order to allow me 

to make such broad statements on more than 130 years of history, this paper 

focuses on one element of counterinsurgency campaigning: the difficulty 

involved in balancing and tying together civil and military efforts. This 

element is at the heart of successful modern counterinsurgency operations and 

appears to be the Achilles heel of current Western interventions. A closely 

related issue is, of course, the use of minimum or measured military force. 

This paper focuses on military practice rather than doctrine, since doctrine 

and handbooks played a minor role during the actual Dutch campaigns, 

then as well as now. However, the ability to become what John Nagl calls 

a “learning institution” brought the Dutch colonial army its self-declared 

moments of glory. It managed to succeed where the Indonesian government 

and army never succeeded: defeating an insurgency in Aceh. But it took 

them more then thirty years. 

Aceh, 1873–1909

Most Western governments and armies have a terrible record when it 

comes to learning from counterinsurgency experience. The nineteenth-century 

Dutch colonial army in the East Indies is a case in point. At the outset of the 

Java War in the 1820s and every new campaign since, the army advanced 

in large columns of heavily armed forces, including cavalry and artillery. 

In campaigns that lasted many years, the army often searched for an elusive 

enemy and a decisive battle to win. Those indigenous forces that chose to 

fight conventionally were mostly defeated with ease, but irregular opponents 

continuously hampered colonial ambitions. Lessons were, in the end, learned 

by some visionary commanders—those who adapted their organization and 

tactics to the enemy—but hard-won knowledge was quickly lost between 

campaigns.

The war that started in Aceh in 1873 was the largest, longest, and most 

vicious of all campaigns. For more than twenty years, the war against the 

Muslim Acehnese progressed disastrously for the Dutch. The conflict reached 

a deadlock by the 1880s, after two failed offensives along the lines just 

mentioned—the search for a decisive military victory. The colonial army held 

only a narrow defensive perimeter around the capital of the sultanate of Aceh. 

This “Dutch Dien Bien Phu,” as one historian called it, came under frequent 

9Beckett, The Roots of Counter-Insurgency, p. 12.
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 123

attack from fanatic irregulars.10 The Dutch answer was punitive force that 

often directly targeted the population, which only stiffened the resistance to 

Dutch rule.

Only between 1898 and 1903 was the tide turned, partly by employing 

light and flexible forces, called the Korps Marechaussee. These constabularytype units consisted mostly of Ambonese and Javanese troops led by Dutch 

officers. They also have been compared to Special Forces. An ambitious new 

commander, Col. J. B. Van Heutsz, initiated a steady and intensive pacification campaign aimed at controlling territory and the population. Thereto he 

employed intensive offensive patrolling by small “flying columns” and created 

a system of blockhouses. Van Heutsz, who would soon become a general, 

was advised by an authority on Islam, Dr. Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje. 

This prominent scholar had done extensive research in Acehnese society and 

became convinced that the enemy was waging an Islamic holy war, with radical 

clergymen at the heart of the resistance. Apart from being a cultural adviser, 

Snouck provided crucial political advice and intelligence. 

The joint vision of these two men, the general and the scholar, was to 

break with the massive, “scuttle and burn–type” punitive force. Instead, they 

propagated a new form of “surgical force.” To use their own terminology: give 

the Acehnese “a sensitive beating” and place “the foot on the neck.” Coercion 

was needed, but the population was to be treated in a humane fashion. Surgical 

force was to be complemented by a prosperity policy aimed at winning over 

these “future subjects.” By 1903, the backbone of Acehnese resistance was 

broken. Van Heutsz, by then a national hero, became the governor general 

of the entire Dutch East Indies. Decades of relative peace followed after the 

remnants of resistance were quashed in Aceh and elsewhere in the Indies by 

1910. This situation lasted until the Japanese invasion in 1942. Aceh can be 

considered the birthplace of a new Dutch counterinsurgency method that would 

be used to great effect elsewhere in the archipelago. 

On the basis of this information, one could conclude that the outlines of a 

more subtle, integrated “Dutch approach” toward counterinsurgency started to 

emerge. Last year, a Dutch battalion commander in Afghanistan was quoted 

in the press referring to Van Heutsz’s methods as a source of inspiration.11

Light and flexible units, measured force, an emphasis on cultural awareness, 

10 H. W. van den Doel, “Military Rule in the Netherlands East Indies,” in The Late Colonial 

State in Indonesia: Political and Economic Foundations of the Netherlands Indies 1880–1942, 

ed. Robert Cribb (Leiden: KITLV Press, 1994), p. 62. 11 “Als vlooien op een wilde hond: Oude Van Heutsz-strategie is inspiratie voor aanpak 

Taliban,” Elsevier, 30 Dec 2006. The battalion commander whose unit carries the name and 

tradition of the Regiment Van Heutsz is likely to have been misquoted. Instead of referring to 

Van Heutsz’s strategy as a whole as a “source of inspiration,” he told the Elsevier reporter that 

he had looked, among others, at the Marechaussee tactics before heading for Uruzgan in the 

summer of 2006. He and his intelligence officer also studied the U.S. Marine Corps Combined 

Action Platoon (CAP) program in Vietnam and hoped to apply similar methods in Uruzgan. 

A correct quotation of the commander can be found in Noel van Bemmel, “Lessen uit Atjeh 
124 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

and intelligence—it all seemed to be in line with what the Dutch nowadays 

want to be in Afghanistan. So can we conclude that there is continuity in the 

Dutch approach to fighting insurgencies? The answer is clearly negative. 

Such a conclusion would be based on a distorted picture of the reality on the 

ground in Aceh. As late as 1904, after the insurgency in the heartland of Aceh 

was essentially broken, a six-month campaign was undertaken by a large 

column into the hinterland of northern Sumatra. Acehnese villagers—men, 

women, and children—were killed on a massive scale during this particular 

operation. Between one-quarter and one-third of the population in this region 

perished.12

Although unmatched in brutality, this massacre by Maj. Gotfried Coenraad 

E. van Daalen was not just an incident. During the crucial period 1898–1903, 

as well as the following six years, the campaign under Van Heutsz as a whole 

relied on brute military force rather than enlightened methods. Instead of 

winning over the population, military administrators exercised draconian 

control over the entire population. They inflicted severe collective punishment 

and fines on entire communities suspected of supporting the insurgents. No 

one other than the infamous Van Daalen succeeded Van Heutsz as the military 

governor of Aceh. In his hands, the policy of prosperity for the Acehnese 

people came to nothing. 

Obviously, theory and practice did not match. The “Dutch approach” to 

colonial expansion and pacification in Aceh in this period relied largely on 

brute force and was highly militarized. In 1904, just after the news of the 

brutalities had broken in the Netherlands, a Dutch member of parliament 

complained, “What worries me at this point is that we are moving towards a 

militaristic atmosphere. . . . We have a soldier for Colonial Minister, a soldier 

for Governor-General [of the Netherlands East Indies], a soldier for Governor 

of Aceh.”13 He could have continued. Also on the district and municipal level, 

military administrators were often in charge in the more volatile outer areas. 

Dutch civil administrators were scarce and used only sporadically, and then 

only in an advisory role. A shortage of willing and able civilian administrators 

was one reason for the militarized approach, but there was one other. The 

difficult pacification campaign required extremely close coordination of 

government and military operations, and the easiest way to achieve this was 

to give military officers comprehensive civil powers. In the Netherlands East 

Indies, civil and military powers were united under military command far more 

often than in British India or with the French in their colonies. This militarized 

colonial administrative concept was designed for crises such as in Aceh after 

voor Uruzgan: Hernieuwde Interesse voor Innovative maar ook Keiharde Campagne,” De 

Volkskrant, 12 Nov 2007. 12 Paul van ‘t Veer, De Atjeh-oorlog (Amsterdam, 1969), p. 269. 13 Martin Bossenbroek, Holland of Zijn Breedst: Indië en Zuid-Afrika in de Nederlandse 

Cultuur Omstreeks 1900 (Amsterdam, 1996), pp. 44–45.
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 125

1880. However, it would be maintained in many areas outside Java until the 

Japanese occupation in 1942.14

War of Decolonization, 1945–1949 

So what did the Dutch learn from the Aceh experience in the late 1940s, 

when they tried to reoccupy their colony after the Second World War? They 

learned one lesson. The reoccupation of the Indonesian archipelago was the 

number-one national priority after 1945, but the Netherlands did not try to 

reconquer Aceh. Overall, however, old habits died hard. The Netherlands 

tried to combine political, diplomatic, and military measures, but ultimately 

military force and repression became the key instrument of Dutch policy.15

This may have worked during the war in Aceh, an internationally isolated and 

geographically limited conflict that took place around the turn of the century. 

However, it did not work against a nationwide nationalist movement that 

drew broad support from the population and attracted attention from all over 

the world. The Indonesian people, seventy million strong at the time, had just 

seen the Dutch being defeated with ease by the Japanese Army. The Dutch 

had tumbled from their imperial pedestal and, against the odds, tried to climb 

back on. 

What was the method used? After 1945, the Dutch sought a conventional 

military solution to the Indonesian nationalist revolt by twice relying on a 

speedy military offensive. These offensives, euphemistically called police 

actions, were highly successful in conventional military terms. During the 

offensive in July and August 1947, the Dutch secured the key economic 

objectives. During the second action in December 1948 and January 1949, 

the Dutch armed forces successfully captured the republican “rebel” capital 

Yogyakarta and even succeeded in arresting key nationalist leaders, including 

the Republic’s President Sukarno. However, both offensives caused widespread 

international indignation. They also left the Dutch with immense territories 

and a massive population to control. Without a proper counterinsurgency 

strategy, the Dutch failed during the costly and, at times, brutal pacification 

campaign in the countryside.16

Measuring the Dutch performance against the six classic counterinsurgency 

principles provides a further explanation for the failure of the militarily superior 

14 H. W. van den Doel, “De ontwikkeling van het militair bestuur in Nederlands-Indie: de 

officier-civiel gezaghebber, 1880–1942,” Mededelingen van de Sectie Militaire Geschiedenis, 

nr. 12 (Den Haag, 1989), pp. 29, 48. For an English version of this article, see Van den Doel, 

“Military Rule in the Netherlands Indies.” 15 Petra Groen, “Militant Response: The Dutch Use of Military Force and the Decolonization 

of the Dutch East Indies, 1945–1950,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 21, 

no. 3 (September 1993): 30. 16 Petra Groen, Marsroutes en Dwaalsporen: Het Nederlandse Militair-Strategische Beleid 

in Indonesië (Den Haag, 1991). 
126 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Dutch to defeat the insurgency. These principles emerged from the British 

colonial experience and culminated in the British answer to the Malayan 

Emergency. Many of these same principles can be found in the U.S. Marine 

Corps Small Wars Manual. The Dutch failed on all six accounts. First, they failed 

to ensure political primacy, a realistic political aim, and relied on military force 

instead. Like the French in Vietnam and Algeria, they ignored that decolonization 

after the Second World War was inevitable. Second, they failed to stick to the 

principle of measured use of force. Artillery and airpower were often used 

indiscriminately. Although not on a scale comparable to the French in Algeria, 

summary justice and third-degree interrogation was applied, particularly by 

Special Forces and military intelligence personnel. Third, they failed to create 

a successful and balanced mechanism for civil-military cooperation among the 

military, civil administration, and police. Military rule increasingly became the 

norm. Fourth, the Dutch failed to separate the insurgents from the population. 

There was neither a successful “hearts and minds” campaign, nor did the 

colonial government succeed in effectively controlling the population. Fifth, 

Dutch intelligence on the enemy was poor. Despite many years of colonial rule 

and linguistic and cultural knowledge, we did not know what drove our enemy, 

what the strength of the nationalist movement was, and what the population 

wanted. Dutch military leaders convinced political leaders that the decapitation 

of the insurgency, the arrest of its leaders, and the occupation of the rebel capital 

Yogyakarta would do the job. Finally, the Dutch lacked patience. Hoping for 

quick results, we focused on two speedy offensives instead of progressive 

pacification and long-term reform. 

Let us return to the third point: civil-military balance and integration. In the 

course of 1945 and 1949, the role of the army became increasingly dominant 

in the Indies. The militarized approach of the Dutch to the Indonesian revolt 

is summarized by statistics. The Netherlands assembled 140,000 troops in the 

Indies by 1948. This was a tremendous effort for a country of nine million 

that had just seen five years of German occupation. However, the Dutch failed 

dramatically in raising sufficient police. There were four army personnel to 

every civilian police official in Indonesia by late 1948. Much of this police 

force of only 35,000 men had received minimal training, lacked effective 

leadership and proper armament, and was at times unreliable. Only 28,000 

local home guards were raised for static security duties.17 Meanwhile, the 

colonial administrative corps was seriously understaffed. The corps consisted 

of both Dutch and Indonesian governors, often in military uniform. On Java, 

120 civil administrators in 1949 had to perform the job done by 230 personnel 

17 Police strength reached its height at only 35,000 at the time of the Second Police Action. 

Moreover, the number of home guards never exceeded 22,500. Groen, “Militant Response”; 

J. A. A. van Doorn and W. J. Hendrix, Ontsporing van Geweld (Rotterdam: Universitaire 

Pers, 1970), p. 140; G. C. Zijlmans, Eindstrijd en Ondergang van de Indische Bestuursdienst

(Amsterdam, 1986), pp. 76, 88. 
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 127

ten years earlier, which was already an extremely light colonial footprint.18

In many areas, there was no civil administration to work alongside military 

units. In the more volatile districts, civil administrators were only given an 

advisory role, with the military commanders in charge of actual governance.19

To complete the increasingly militarized approach, special military courts were 

put in charge of administrating justice by 1948, and the colonial intelligence 

apparatus was fully militarized.

By comparison, at the height of the Malayan Emergency in 1952, military 

forces numbered 35,000 British and Commonwealth troops. Police strength 

reached 28,000 that same year, which meant a ratio of almost one to one 

vis-à-vis the military. The number of home guards was over two hundred 

thousand.20 In Malaya, a successful system for civil-military cooperation 

functioned on the national, provincial, and district levels. This was the so-called 

war-by-committee system. Within this triangular system, civil administrators 

played a coordinating role. Only during the height of the Emergency was a 

soldier, General Sir Gerald Templer, temporarily in charge of both civil and 

military efforts on the highest level. In contrast to the Dutch model, the British 

military performed its role in support of the civil power, and common law 

remained functional despite the state of emergency. Finally, the intelligence 

operation was coordinated by the civilian special branch of police. 

Due to large differences in the scale of the conflict in the political, 

geographical, and social contexts, comparing the conflict in Indonesia to that 

in Malaya is risky. It is as problematic as comparing the Malayan Emergency 

to the American experience in Vietnam, as many counterinsurgency theorists 

have tried to do. Nevertheless, as with the Malaya-Vietnam comparison, the 

result is revealing. They offer a serious warning from the past when it comes 

to balancing and integrating civil and military efforts. 

Conclusions

It will come as no surprise that there is no “Dutch approach” to fighting 

small wars and countering insurgencies in our colonial past that can explain 

our current extreme emphasis on the minimum use of force, on nonkinetic 

measures, and on the comprehensive or integrated approach. While there 

is continuity in our colonial past from Aceh to the War of Decolonization, 

current policy emphasis on other than military means is quite the opposite of 

past experience. 

18 C. Otte and G. C. Zijlmans, “Wederopbouw en Ondergang van de Indische Bestuursdienst,” 

ZWO Jaarboek 1980, p. 182; Zijlmans, Eindstrijd en Ondergang, p. 57. 19 Van Doorn en Hendrix, Ontsporing van Geweld, pp. 141–42. 20 Thomas R. Mockaitis, British Counterinsurgency, 1919–60 (New York: St. Martin’s 

Press, 1990), p. 9; Richard L. Clutterbuck, The Long, Long War: The Emergency in Malaya, 

1948–1960 (London: Cassell, 1967), p. 43. 
128 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

What explains the apparent break in Dutch responses to irregular 

opponents? First of all, there are two distinct lines in Dutch military and 

security thinking. In Europe, on the one hand, the Netherlands traditionally 

embraced a neutral and legalistic policy after the loss of its great power status. 

On the other hand, in the Indonesian archipelago, the Dutch always tended 

to be militaristic and realistic. This second tradition ended with our imperial 

retreat in 1949.

Second, when it comes to counterinsurgency experience in the twentieth 

century, Dutch history is characterized by discontinuity. It this sense, the 

Netherlands resembles the United States in various ways. Like the U.S. 

military—the Marine Corps in particular—the Dutch clearly had an upward 

learning curve from the 1890s to the Second World War. Nonetheless, both 

militaries emerged from the Second World War firmly believing in maneuver 

warfare and in decisive victory. Also, Dutch generals wanted to be Patton or 

Rommel. Many counterinsurgency wisdoms had been “unlearned” during the 

Second World War. Both the Dutch and the Americans failed to relearn, in 

time, how to fight an irregular opponent when faced with a Southeast Asian 

insurgency. Despite many tactical successes, the war in Indonesia ended in 

strategic defeat—an experience that will probably ring some bells in U.S. 

military circles. In the Netherlands and the United States, the Indonesian and 

Vietnamese experiences left deep wounds in the military psyche. After the 

frustrating fight against an illusive irregular opponent, the military establishments in both countries firmly focused on their NATO role and embraced 

preparations for large-scale conventional combat. 

When the Cold War came to an end, however, Dutch and American experience strongly diverged. This brings us to the third explanation for the apparent 

change in Dutch response to insurgency. Even though the Dutch participated 

in many of the same peace support operations, such as in Haiti, Bosnia, 

and Kosovo, our appreciation of this type of military mission was radically 

different. U.S. policymakers and the military alike shunned “peacekeeping” as 

an unwelcome distraction. Dutch policymakers, and eventually also the Dutch 

military, embraced peace operations as their new “core business.” 

In short, when it comes to the use of military force in counterinsurgency 

operations, the Dutch have had to “upscale” for their mission in Afghanistan, 

whereas the Dutch, like NATO members, tend to think U.S. armed forces 

need to “scale down” for this type of operation. This point is, of course, 

open to debate, particularly as U.S. armed forces have started to embrace 

counterinsurgency principles and lessons and seem to apply them with 

some success at the tactical level in Iraq and Afghanistan. When it comes 

to improving civilian capabilities to work alongside military in counterinsurgency operations, the Dutch and Americans are in the same boat: a 

long way from where they should be. For all the talk of a comprehensive or 

3-D approach, the number of Dutch civilian government officials (political 

advisers, development advisers, and a cultural adviser) operating alongside 
The Roots of Dutch Counterinsurgency 129

1,500 military personnel in Uruzgan has varied between three and six. 

One can only hope that the military-civilian ratio is better in the American 

“whole-of-government” efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq. 

Part Two

Special Aspects of Irregular Warfare

The History of Military Commissions in the 

U.S. Army: From the Mexican-American War 

to the War on Terrorism

Frederic L. Borch

Military commissions are nothing new in the U.S. Army—or in American 

history. The Army first employed them in Mexico in 1847 and subsequently 

used them in the Civil War era, the Philippine Insurrection, World War I, 

and World War II. Most recently, the Army created military commissions to 

oversee the ongoing prosecutions of alleged terrorists held at Guantanamo 

Bay, Cuba.

This paper examines the history of military commissions. It begins by 

defining the term and examining who has the power to convene a military 

commission. It then looks at the structure of commissions and why they have 

been viewed—until now—as appropriate for prosecuting some war-related 

offenses. This discussion is followed by a look at military commissions from 

the Mexican-American War to the present War on Terrorism.

Military Commission Defined

There are four types of military tribunals: courts-martial, provost courts, courts 

of inquiry, and military commissions. Courts-martial, which exist in their present 

form under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ) enacted by Congress in 

1950, are courts for “doing justice” (although they also promote discipline). Provost 

courts are military-run courts in occupied territory; they exist to handle general 

crimes committed by civilians and were last used in occupied Germany and Japan 

in the aftermath of World War II.1 Courts of inquiry, although rarely used, are also 

military tribunals.2 The last type of tribunal, the military commission, is a court of 

1 Provost courts are convened in occupied territory for the trial of minor offenses alleged 

against civilians in occupied areas. During the Civil War, provost courts also tried military 

personnel charged with civil crimes. After martial law was declared in Hawaii during World 

War II—and the Territory of Hawaii civilian courts were closed—the Army operated provost 

courts to prosecute civilians for criminal offenses that otherwise would have been tried in civilian 

courts. Today, when domestic trial courts of the occupied territory are not functioning, the law 

enforcement arm of the occupying force (usually the provost marshal) may establish provost 

courts that meet the requirements of Geneva Conventions common article 3. 2 Courts of inquiry investigate serious military incidents, such as the loss of high-value 

property (e.g., ships at sea) and major accidents (e.g., aircraft collisions). Courts of inquiry 
134 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

extraordinarily narrow jurisdiction—it exists only during war and is designed to 

try enemy soldiers and unlawful combatants who violate the law of war. In this 

respect, it may be considered a wartime court-martial, with less restrictive rules 

of procedure and evidence.

Although the service originally created military commissions as temporary 

“field-expedient” tribunals with relatively broad jurisdiction, military commissions subsequently evolved into courts of narrow jurisdiction. By World War II, 

they were wartime military courts that had jurisdiction to try enemy individuals, 

military or civilian, who had violated the laws of armed conflict. 

It follows that military commissions—because they only function during 

armed conflict and only have jurisdiction over war-related offenses—are of 

limited scope and utility. The fact that they may be used only during wartime 

also explains their summary nature—there is no time for a long and complicated 

trial during combat operations. Additionally, the relaxed standards of evidentiary 

admissibility and streamlined trial procedures make sense given the wartime 

character of military commissions—civilian-type rules are impracticable during 

armed conflict. For example, there is no prohibition on hearsay at military 

commissions because oral testimony may be difficult to obtain (witnesses present 

when the crime occurred may be dead, missing, or otherwise unavailable). 

Similarly, requiring a “chain of custody” for evidence found on the battlefield 

or seized from an enemy would make it difficult if not impossible to prosecute a 

case successfully. Consequently, military commissions generally have admitted 

any relevant evidence that has probative value to a reasonable person.3

Legal Authority to Convene Military Commissions

The president, as commander in chief, or his subordinate military 

commanders may convene military commissions under legal authority derived 

from the U.S. Constitution, Article I. In theory, any military commander may 

convene military commissions to try enemy soldiers or civilians who violate 

the laws of armed conflict. As a practical matter, however, the authority of 

Army commanders to convene military commissions is unsettled, as there 

is no written guidance or court decision on the question. It would seem 

reasonable, however, to assume that any commander with the authority to 

consist of senior officers who are charged with gathering information about the incident, 

finding facts, and making recommendations to the commander who convened the proceedings. 

A recent example is the Navy’s use of such a court to inquire into the facts and circumstances 

surrounding an American submarine’s fatal collision with the Japanese research vessel Ehime 

Maru off the coast of Hawaii in 2001.

3 In modern legal history, this “probative value to a reasonable person” language was first 

used in the trial of the U-boat saboteurs in 1942. When President Bush authorized military 

commissions for the trial of al Qaeda and other terrorists in 2001, he expressly adopted this 

same evidentiary standard: Military Order of 13 November 2001, “Detention, Treatment, and 

Trial of Certain Non-Citizens in the War Against Terrorism,” sec. 4(c)(3), 66 Federal Register 

[F.R.] 57833-57836 (16 Nov 2001). 
The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army 135

convene general courts-martial also would have the authority to convene 

military commissions.4

Congress, acting under its U.S. Constitution, Article II, powers, may 

also create military commissions. This occurred recently when Congress, in 

response to the U.S. Supreme Court decision of Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, enacted 

the Military Commissions Act (MCA) of 2006.5 The court held in Hamdan

that the military commission procedures established by the president in 2001 

failed to satisfy international law (Geneva Conventions common article 3). 

The MCA is a legislative attempt to cure this deficiency. 

With this as background, it follows that military commissions are very 

different from civilian federal courts (for example, U.S. District Courts, U.S. 

Courts of Appeals, and U.S. Supreme Court), which derive their authority 

from the U.S. Constitution, Article III, and have rules and procedures that 

satisfy the Bill of Rights, the Federal Rules of Evidence and Procedure, and 

other safeguards enacted by Congress. 

Composition and Structure of Military Commissions

Given their status as war courts, military commissions historically have 

consisted of military officers only. Absent rules to the contrary, however, a 

commander convening military commissions could appoint individuals of 

any rank and military background to serve on the commissions. Additionally, 

there is no fixed number of members for a military commission: one or twelve 

members would be lawful.6

There is no requirement for legally trained counsel to sit on military 

commissions or to advise military commission personnel on the applicable 

law of armed conflict. Additionally, while there are no specific evidentiary 

or procedural rules for commissions, there is a general requirement that the 

proceedings be full and fair.

The First Military Commissions—Mexican-American War

Although George Washington’s creation of a Court of Inquiry for the 

Revolutionary War–era trial of Maj. John Andre is often cited as the first 

4 During World War II, General Dwight D. Eisenhower convened military commissions 

in the European Theater of Operations; General Joseph T. McNarney convened them in the 

Mediterranean Theater of Operations; and General Douglas MacArthur convened them in the 

Pacific Theater of Operations. 5 Military Commissions Act of 2006, Public Law 109–366, 120 Stat. 2600 (17 Oct 

2006). 6Today, as a minimum of five members are required for general courts-martial convened 

under the UCMJ, it seems likely that most commanders would select a similar (or greater) number 

of members for their military commissions. There were, for example, five U.S. general officers 

on the military commission that tried Japanese General Tomoyuki Yamashita in 1945.
136 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

military commission, it was not.7 Neither was the 1818 courts-martial and 

execution of two British civilians for inciting Creek Indians to wage war 

against the United States.8

Rather, the first recorded use of the military commission came during the 

Mexican-American War. While American units under the command of Brig. 

Gen. Zachary Taylor fought Mexican forces in the north, and another force of 

dragoons under Col. Stephen W. Kearney fought Mexican units in New Mexico 

and California, a third and independent force, under the command of Maj. Gen. 

Winfield Scott, marched on Mexico City. Leading elements of Scott’s army 

seized the Mexican town of Tampico in February 1847, and Scott used the 

town as both his headquarters and a staging point for future military operations. 

Vera Cruz fell to the Americans on 27 March 1847, and Scott’s advance to 

Mexico City continued until the city surrendered on 14 September.9

As the Americans occupied more and more Mexican territory, Scott (who 

had studied law at the College of William and Mary and also practiced law as 

a civilian) learned that he could not punish American troops at courts-martial 

for “common law” offenses because the then-existing Articles of War (passed 

by Congress in 1806) only covered military offenses like desertion and 

disobedience of orders. Since Congress prior to the Mexican-American War 

did not envisage the Army as fighting outside U.S. borders, this made sense: 

the Articles of War need only cover military misconduct because a soldier 

who committed murder or rape or robbery could simply be turned over to 

local authorities. But when U.S. regular and volunteer troops left American 

territory—and the reach of U.S. courts—and committed nonmilitary crimes 

like murder on Mexican soil, the Army could not punish them.

Scott solved this dilemma by using his powers as commander to create two 

new military tribunals: “military commissions” to prosecute U.S. regulars and 

volunteers for nonmilitary crimes and “councils of war” to prosecute Mexicans 

charged with war crimes. Scott saw both tribunals as temporary or interim 

measures, as he hoped Congress would legislate other measures for trial. In 

any event, on 19 February 1847, Scott published General Order 20 from his 

headquarters in Tampico. It read,

7 General Washington convened a court of inquiry to investigate the facts of the Andre 

case. That court concluded (based largely on Andre’s voluntary statements) that he had been 

engaged in a secret correspondence with General Benedict Arnold to surrender West Point. The 

members of the court further concluded that, while Andre was a British Army officer, he had 

been in disguise (and not in uniform) when he was caught in September 1780. Consequently, 

he should be considered a spy and put to death. Washington concurred with the finding of the 

court and ordered that Andre be executed. 8Two British nationals, Arbuthnot and Ambrister, were tried by court-martial and executed 

in 1818. 9 For a concise discussion of Scott’s military campaign and occupation of Mexico, see 

Stephen A. Carney, The Occupation of Mexico: May 1846–July 1848, U.S. Army Campaigns 

of the Mexican War (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2006).
The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army 137

Assassination, murder, poisoning, rape . . . malicious stabbing or maiming, malicious assault and battery, robbery, theft, the wanton destruction of 

churches, cemeteries, or other religious edifices and fixtures, the interruption 

of religious ceremonies, and the destruction, except by order of a superior 

officer, of public or private property, whether committed by Mexicans or 

other civilians in Mexico against individuals in the U.S. military forces . . . 

should be brought to trial before military commissions.10

Thereafter, General Scott convened military commissions for the following 

offenses: manslaughter, burglary, pick-pocketing, carrying a concealed weapon, 

threatening the lives of soldiers, riotous conduct, and attempting to pass 

counterfeit money.11 He also convened councils of war to prosecute Mexicans 

for law-of-war violations, with the principal offense being “guerrilla warfare” 

and “enticing or attempting to entice soldiers to desert the U.S. service.”12 In 

deciding the configuration of these military commissions and councils of war, 

Scott generally followed the format and procedure of courts-martial. 

Together, military commissions and councils of war prosecuted 117 

military commissions, 19 with Mexican defendants. They convicted Americans 

68 percent of the time, and Mexicans 57 percent of the time. By the end of the 

war, however, Scott had eliminated the councils of war by folding them into 

the military commission. When Congress subsequently declined to act, the 

legitimacy of Scott’s creation of military commissions as a legal tool came 

to be presumed.

Military Commissions During the Civil War and Reconstruction

During the Civil War, the Army began to convene military commissions 

as early as 1861.13 During hostilities, it tried some 4,271 individuals by 

commission, including Maj. Henry Wirz (commandant of the infamous 

Andersonville prison) and the eight Lincoln assassination conspirators. The 

service held another 1,435 military commissions during the Reconstruction 

period in ex-Confederate states under military rule.

On 1 January 1862, Maj. Gen. Henry W. Hallack, commanding the 

Department of Missouri, published a general order that defined the nature and 

jurisdiction of military commissions to be used in his command.14 Commissions 

convened by Hallack and other commanders during hostilities generally 

followed court-martial procedures, and President Abraham Lincoln personally 

confirmed all death sentences.

10 William Winthrop, Military Law and Precedents, 2d ed. (Washington, D.C.: Government 

Printing Office, 1920), p. 832. 11 Ibid.

12 Ibid., p. 833.

13 General Orders (GO) 14, 20, 118, Western Dept, 1861; GOs 24, 25, Dept of N.E. Va., 

1861; GO 68, Army of the Potomac, 1861. 14 GO 1, Dept of Missouri, 1862.
138 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

The Army employed military commissions during the Civil War to 

suppress guerrilla warfare, especially in the border states of Missouri, 

Maryland, and Kentucky.15 For example, Robert T. Jones of Greene County, 

Missouri, was tried by military commission in late 1862 for “violating the law 

of war by letting rebels lurk in his neighborhood without reporting them to 

the U.S. military authorities.” Greene pleaded guilty but explained that one 

of the “lurkers” was his brother-in-law, on whom he did not wish to inform. 

The commission sentenced him to six months at hard labor.16

Congress explicitly recognized the lawfulness of military commissions 

when it created the office of the Army Judge Advocate General in 1862, and 

President Lincoln subsequently decided that commissions were the best judicial 

forum at which to prosecute prominent civilian politicians who opposed the 

war effort, including Clement L. Vallandigham and Lambdin P. Milligan.

Vallandigham had made a speech at Mount Vernon, Ohio, in which he 

labeled the ongoing conflict as “a wicked, cruel, and unnecessary war . . . 

being waged for the purpose of crushing our liberty and erecting a despotism 

. . . a war for the freedom of the blacks and enslavement of the whites.”17

As General Ambrose Burnside had previously declared martial law in an 

area that included the state of Ohio and had also published General Orders 

proclaiming that those who committed acts “for the benefit of our enemies 

will be tried as spies or traitors,” Vallandigham was swiftly brought before a 

military commission.

That tribunal permitted Vallandigham to have defense counsel, allowed him 

to cross-examine witnesses against him, and permitted him to call witnesses 

to testify on his own behalf. But the tribunal also convicted Vallandigham, 

sentenced him to be confined “during the continuance of the war,” and sent him to 

a military prison in Cincinnati. Vallandigham then filed a writ of habeas corpus, 

insisting that, as he was a civilian noncombatant, the military commission had 

no jurisdiction over him. In 1863, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear his 

writ. In Ex Parte Vallandigham, it ruled that, as an Article III court, it lacked 

authority to review military commissions convened under Article I.18

After the end of the war, the Supreme Court changed course in the 

well-known case of Ex Parte Mulligan. In 1864, Mulligan had conspired 

with other disaffected citizens (“Copperheads”) to free 8,000 Confederate 

prisoners held in Illinois. A military commission convened in Indianapolis 

found Mulligan guilty of “inciting the people to insurrection” and sentenced 

him to be hanged.

15 Missouri alone accounted for 1,940 cases out of the total 4,271 military commissions 

held during the Civil War. 16 Mark E. Neely, The Fate of Liberty: Abraham Lincoln and Civil Liberties (New York: 

Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. 171–72. 17 Proceedings of a Military Commission, 21 April 1863, p. 32. 18 Ex Parte Vallandigham, 1 Wallace 243 (1864).
The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army 139

The U.S. Supreme Court subsequently reversed Mulligan’s conviction. It 

ruled that civilians could not be tried by military commission in any jurisdiction 

where the civil courts functioned. Justice David Davis, writing the majority 

opinion in Mulligan, declared that

The Constitution of the United States is a law for rulers and people, equally 

in war and peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of 

men, at all times, and under all circumstances. . . . Martial law can never 

exist when [or] where the [civilian] courts are open, and in the proper and 

unobstructed exercise of their jurisdiction.19

Despite the seemingly unequivocal language of Mulligan, military 

commissions continued to operate—at least in those ex-Confederate states 

under military rule. Congress denied legal status to those Southern state 

governments that refused to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment and placed 

them under martial law. As those states did not have functioning civilian court 

systems, military commissions were necessary to prevent lawlessness and 

disorder. But even when a state had been “reconstructed” and its civilian courts 

were open for business, military commissions were convened when the Army 

commander—who believed that Congress had given him absolute authority 

under martial law—decided that a military court was essential to the due 

administration of justice. In short, if the commander believed a local civilian 

court could not provide fair trials, he used a military commission. Offenses 

heard by these Reconstruction-era military commissions were principally 

crimes punished by local or common law, such as murder, manslaughter, 

robbery, larceny, riot, lynching, criminal conspiracy, assault, and breach of the 

peace. Sentences imposed by these commissions generally were the same as 

would have been imposed had a state court been open to hear the case.20 The 

result was that the Army held more than 1,435 military commissions between 

April 1865 and January 1869, including the sensational trial by military 

commission of the eight Lincoln assassination conspirators.

Military Commissions in the Indian Wars

In 1862, Dakota Sioux warriors on the western frontier in Minnesota 

began killing white men, women, and children. The reasons for these 

massacres are complex, but as settlers increasingly encroached on Native 

American lands (and violated treaty obligations between the United States 

and the tribes), the friction resulted in bloodshed. More than 500 soldiers 

and settlers died before the Army defeated and killed or captured the Native 

American forces.

19 Ex Parte Mulligan, 71 United States Reports (4 Wall.), 2 (1866). 20 Winthrop, Military Law and Precedents, p. 853.
140 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

In 1862, Col. Henry H. Sibley, the commander of local forces, convened 

military commissions for the trial of the Sioux captives for the earlier massacres. 

They had minimal rules of procedure and little regard for the rules of evidence. 

As President Lincoln observed in reviewing the 303 death sentences imposed 

by the Dakota commissions, “The trials had become shorter and shorter as 

they progressed.”21 Lincoln commuted the sentences or pardoned most of the 

defendants; he authorized a total of forty executions. Thirty-eight were hanged 

on 26 December 1862.22

Military Commissions During the Philippine Insurrection

Military commissions were used during the fighting in the Philippines after 

the Spanish-American War. General Arthur MacArthur (father of Douglas) 

declared martial law “and relied on a mix of military commissions and Army 

provost courts to discipline the local population.”23 Military commissions 

generally followed the rules of evidence and procedure used for courts-martial 

under the Articles of War. They also recognized combatant immunity under 

the law of war, which meant that some insurgents had a defense to murder.

Military Commissions During World War I

Apparently the only military commission to arise during World War I 

involved a German spy, Lothan Witzke.24 He entered the United States from 

Mexico using a Russian passport (under the alias Pablo Waberski) and with a 

mission to carry out sabotage. He was arrested in Nogales, New Mexico, and 

tried by a military commission consisting of two Army brigadier generals and 

three colonels. Witzke was prosecuted for violating Article 82, Articles of War. 

This provision made it a crime for “any person in time of war to . . . lurk or act as 

a spy in or about any of the fortifications, posts, quarters of encampments of the 

armies of the United States.” The commission found him guilty and sentenced 

him to death; President Woodrow Wilson commuted his sentence to confinement 

21 Peter J. Richards, Extraordinary Justice: Military Tribunals in Historical and 

International Context (New York: New York University Press, 2007), p. 29. 22 At the time, the Lincoln administration was under considerable military pressure (victory 

at Gettysburg was still more than six months away), and some believe Lincoln took a hard line 

with Native American warriors to forestall further unrest. 23 Louis Fisher, Military Tribunals and Presidential Power: American Revolution to the 

War on Terrorism (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2005), p. 80. 24 The United States conducted no other military commissions. The French, however, 

prosecuted about 1,200 Germans at military commissions; the Belgians about 80 more. 

Some Germans also were tried by the Supreme Court of Leipzig, but the results were so 

unsatisfactory that the Allies learned that it was foolish to permit a defeated enemy to try his 

own suspected war criminals. 
The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army 141

at hard labor for life. After the Army judge advocate general recommended his 

release, however, Witzke was deported to Germany in 1923.25

Military Commissions in World War II

From 1942 until 1949, the Army prosecuted military commissions 

in various locations, including China, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the 

Philippines, and the United States.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt convened the first military commission 

in 1942. The case arose out of the capture of eight German saboteurs on U.S. 

soil—four on Long Island, New York, and four in Jacksonville, Florida. The 

public demanded immediate execution of the Germans. Roosevelt, however, 

decided that the circumstances required some type of judicial proceeding. He 

preferred a court-martial, but then Attorney General Francis Biddle argued 

instead for a military commission, chiefly because there would be relaxed rules 

of evidence and, arguably, no right to appellate review.

The Supreme Court’s ruling in the case, Ex Parte Quirin, written after the 

execution of most of the saboteurs, found that they did have a right to judicial 

review. The Quirin decision, however, while establishing civilian judicial 

review of military commissions, also concluded that the instant proceedings 

had been lawful—thus making the decision politically acceptable.26

Starting in Europe in 1944 (with the trial by military commission of 

German soldiers caught wearing Army uniforms during the Battle of the Bulge), 

the Army prosecuted enemy soldiers and civilians for a variety of war-related 

offenses. For example, it tried and convicted German civilian farmers for 

murdering downed Army Air Forces pilots and aircrew. In other cases, the 

Army tried, convicted, and executed soldiers and civilians for murdering Jews 

and other inmates at concentration camps in Belsen, Dachau, and Flossenburg. 

In Italy, German soldiers (including one general officer) were prosecuted before 

commissions for ordering the execution of U.S. prisoners of war in Italy.27

In the Pacific, after the end of hostilities in 1945, the Army successfully 

prosecuted Japanese soldiers for murdering prisoners of war and committing 

other atrocities upon civilians. The best known was the trial by military 

25 Ibid., pp. 87–89. 26 In 1944, two more German spies were caught in New York and tried by military 

commission (but using courts-martial procedures). While they were convicted and sentenced 

to death, both were spared after Roosevelt died and war with Germany ended. 27 For example, German General Anton Dostler was tried at a military commission in 

Rome, Italy, 8–12 October 1945. Charged with ordering the execution of two officers and 

thirteen enlisted men from an American reconnaissance battalion that had been captured while 

on a sabotage mission, Dostler claimed that he had acted in obedience to orders from Hitler 

to execute all commandos. The commission rejected the defense and found Dostler guilty. He 

was executed by firing squad—the only German general officer executed on the sole authority 

of the United States. UN War Crimes Commission, Law Reports of Trial of War Criminals, 

I:30 (London, 1947); Richards, Extraordinary Justice, pp. 117–18.
142 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

commission of General Tomoyuki Yamashita. Brought to trial in October 1946 

on the charge that he had failed to discharge his duty to restrain his troops in 

the Philippines from murdering, raping, and otherwise brutalizing thousands 

of civilians, Yamashita was found guilty and executed.28

The service conducted 950 military commissions during and after World 

War II: 491 in Europe and 459 in the Pacific.29 About three thousand German 

and Japanese defendants were tried, and no serious scholar disputes that the 

trials generally were fair (witness their 10 percent acquittal rate).30

Military Commissions in the War on Terrorism

In the aftermath of al Qaeda’s 11 September 2001 attack on the World 

Trade Center and the Pentagon, President George W. Bush announced the 

establishment of military commissions to try al Qaeda members and others 

for acts of terrorism against the United States. 

The military commissions created in Bush’s Military Order 1 were 

extremely narrow in jurisdiction—both in terms of personnel subject to trial 

and the kind of offenses triable. For example, they applied only to non-U.S. 

citizens and only for terrorist-related offenses that “threaten to cause, or have 

as their aim to cause, injury to . . . the United States.”31

While the order required “full and fair” proceedings, it allowed classified 

trials, closed to the public, to avoid the disclosure of “state secrets,” and trials 

in absentia. The order also permitted minimal rules of evidence: any evidence 

with probative value to a reasonable person was admissible; there were no 

restrictions on hearsay; and evidence obtained through torture or coercive 

interrogation techniques was admissible.

Critics immediately complained that the Guantanamo military commissions violated the Geneva Convention Relating to the Treatment of Prisoners 

of War. They argued that Article 102, which requires that any prisoner of war 

be sentenced by the same courts using the same standards of justice enjoyed 

by U.S. soldiers, meant that military commissions had to comply with current 

28 While the U.S. Supreme Court subsequently affirmed the proceedings in In re Application 

of Yamashita, 327 United States Reports 1 (1946), the military commission proceedings have 

been widely criticized by historians and do not meet today’s standards of legal due process. 29 These numbers include military commissions conducted by the Navy on Guam.

30 As noted by John A. Appleman, Military Tribunals and International Crimes 

(Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill, 1954). Most Allied nations, appreciating that American 

military commissions were a useful tool, convened their own commissions to prosecute German 

and Japanese citizens who had violated the law of war. The Dutch conducted commissions in 

the Netherlands East Indies; the Chinese prosecuted Japanese soldiers at commissions in China; 

and the French conducted commissions in both France and Germany. The Soviet Union also 

held thousands of military commissions, but information and numbers on these proceedings 

have never been released. 31 Military Commission Order (MCO), Detention, Treatment, and Trial of Certain NonCitizens in the War Against Terrorism, 13 November 2001, 66 F.R. 57834, sec. 2(a)(1)(ii). 
The History of Military Commissions in the U.S. Army 143

courts-martial practice and procedure under the UCMJ. The government 

responded that al Qaeda members and other detainees at Guantanamo were 

not prisoners of war and, consequently, Article 102 did not apply. 

In any event, on 29 June 2006, the U.S. Supreme Court limited the authority 

of the president to hold the Guantanamo commissions. While the court did not 

decide the applicability of Article 102, it ruled in Hamdan v. Rumsfeld that 

the tribunals created under the president’s executive order failed to comply 

with Geneva Conventions common article 3. 

This provision, which is “common” to all four Conventions, prohibits 

“the passing of sentences and the carrying out of executions without previous 

judgment pronounced by a regularly constituted court, affording all the judicial 

guarantees which are recognized as indispensable by civilized peoples.” 

According to the U.S. Supreme Court, the Bush administration’s commissions 

failed to satisfy this standard.

In December 2006, Congress exercised its power under Article II and created 

a military commission system under the MCA of 2006. The act affirms that 

commissions are military tribunals of extremely narrow jurisdiction and establishes 

“procedures governing the use of military commissions to try alien unlawful enemy 

combatants engaged in hostilities against the United States for violations of the 

law of war.” The statute expressly states that the military commissions comport 

with the requirements of the Geneva Conventions common article 3. 

The MCA states that procedures for military commissions are modeled on 

the procedures for general courts-martial under the UCMJ, except that there 

is no right to speedy trial, no right to a pretrial investigation, and no right to 

be warned against self-incrimination. Additionally, MCA procedures permit 

the admissibility of hearsay evidence, as well as evidence obtained through 

coercive interrogation techniques (and inhumane and degrading treatment). 

Whether the MCA will satisfy the Supreme Court almost certainly will be 

litigated in the near future.

In the meantime, the first case under the new system has been completed. In 

March 2007, Australian David Hicks pleaded guilty in a negotiated agreement 

to the charge of “providing material support for terrorism.” He was sentenced 

to serve nine months—which he will serve in Australia.32

Conclusion

Military commissions originated during the Mexican-American War as 

a gap-filler to prosecute U.S. regular and volunteer troops for common law 

offenses not covered by the 1806 Articles of War. The commissions—along 

with councils of war—also tried Mexicans for violating the laws of war. By 

32 Hicks was captured in Afghanistan and spent more than five years in detention at 

Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. For more on Hicks, see Leigh Sales, Detainee 002: The Case of David 

Hicks (Melbourne, Australia: Melbourne University Press, 2007). 
144 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the end of the American occupation of Mexico in 1848, military commissions 

had emerged as legitimate judicial tools. 

By the end of the nineteenth century, the jurisdiction of military commissions had narrowed significantly. Congress had amended the Articles of War to 

bring common law offenses under the jurisdiction of courts-martial, which, as a 

result, restricted military commissions to trying violations of the law of war.

The zenith of the military commission was World War II. From 1942 

to 1949, military commissions tried hundreds of German, Italian, Japanese, 

and other enemy soldiers and civilian defendants for violations of the laws 

of armed conflict.

Today, more than enough historical precedent exists to permit the United 

States—or any nation state—to use military commissions to prosecute “terrorists,” provided there is an armed conflict. Consequently, military commissions 

could lawfully be used to prosecute al Qaeda terrorists or Iraqi or Taliban 

insurgents attacking U.S. forces today in Afghanistan and Iraq. But those 

military commissions must comply with Geneva Conventions common article 

3 to be lawful (and perhaps Geneva Prisoners Convention Article 102). The 

MCA of 2006 attempted to meet the minimum due process standards required 

by the Supreme Court in Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, but whether this legislation 

is sufficient remains problematic. The end result is that the future of military 

commissions in the Army is very much in doubt.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue: 

The Militias of Kentucky, 1859–1861

John A. Boyd

Militias are paramilitary organizations that have made headlines from 

Yugoslavia to Somalia to Iraq. Militias brought death to untold thousands in 

Rwanda and now in Darfur. In Iraq, few have not heard of the Shiite Badr 

militia or Moqtada al-Sadr’s militia of the downtrodden masses, the Jaysh 

al-Mahdi. Militias today invoke a certain sense of fear and dread, as well they 

should. To modern Americans, they now symbolize death squads, fanaticism, 

anarchy, and destruction. However, for better or ill, loath them or embrace 

them, militias have their uses.

During the secession crisis of 1861 prior to the outbreak of the American 

Civil War, the militias of Kentucky—some pro-Union, pro-southern, and even 

pro-neutral—played a pivotal role in determining whether the Bluegrass state 

would stay out of civil war or enter the conflict on the Union or Confederate 

side. Implausible as it may seem, they did this without firing a shot. 

The militias of Kentucky cannot be understood properly without understanding 

the martial heritage of antebellum America in general and of Kentucky in particular. 

In 1860, schoolbook histories immortalized a republic born in blood, dwelling on 

the rattle of musket and the clash of bayonet in the founding of free institutions. A 

war record could turn a backwoods politician into a president, and, at least in the 

South, the readiness to use violence to vindicate one’s honor actually improved 

many a statesman’s standing. What was true elsewhere held truer still in the “dark 

and bloody ground” of Kentucky. Statues in Daniel Boone’s honor showed him, 

quite uncharacteristically, as an Indian-fighter, and legends about him coated him 

in the glamour of a bloodlust utterly foreign to the man himself. Kentucky still had 

its veterans of the War of 1812, and every town could still point to its old-timers 

raised in the days of the Indian wars. If backwoodsmen looked on the landed 

gentry with suspicion, one reason was their suspected lack of fighting qualities. 

Even Whig and later Unionist Senator John Jordan Crittenden found advantages 

in letting voters know of his accomplishments during the War of 1812, for as one 

contemporary declared, over the next half-century “to have fought at the Thames 

was the ‘open sesame’ to public and political honor.” Mexican War veterans won 

the same acclaim if not notoriety in 1850s politics.1

1Quote from Albert Kirwan, John J. Crittenden (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 

1962), p. 25, and see also p. 26. See also John Hope Franklin, The Militant South, 1800–1861
146 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

In peacetime, with the Indian wars receding into the distant past, Kentucky 

could boast of several well-trained prewar militia companies, among them 

John Hunt Morgan’s Lexington Rifles and Simon B. Buckner’s Louisville 

Citizens’ Guard. No patriotic celebration was complete without a turnout of 

the local militia. Spectators could watch close-order drill, rifle volleys, and 

mock battles, and, from the size of the crowds that turned out, thought it very 

good theater. Throughout America, “in the everyday life of the city, private 

military clubs ranked first among the street performers.” The public considered 

Morgan’s Lexington Rifles the best and demanded its attendance at holiday 

occasions like Washington’s Birthday or Independence Day. Sometimes the 

Rifles’ best performances at resorts like Paroquet Springs and Crab Orchard 

lasted a full week.2

That meant less and more than it might seem. The prewar militia, as 

Morgan’s own contingent showed, was primarily a social organization. Young 

men were eager to join. Membership gave them a chance to parade in splendid 

uniforms and perform elaborate maneuvers with sabers and rifles in front of a 

vast audience, including eligible young ladies. Militia companies also sponsored 

charities and dances. They staged shows for worthy civic causes. And finally, to 

their members, they offered all the benefits of a fraternal society.3

Militia membership gave many a young man a sense of belonging. Most 

military companies had fewer than fifty members. A company was built on 

a common culture, shared interests, and a general sense of brotherhood. It 

encouraged political fealty and social cohesion, especially when, as often 

happened, the men elected their own officers or were recruited by the man who 

paid the organization’s bills. The loyalty of Morgan’s men was well known 

throughout Kentucky long before the war and, with it, their slogan, “Our laws, 

the commands of our Captain.”4

Most active militia companies in the 1850s were inclusive by being 

exclusive. Their sense of belonging rested on being separate from those 

outside. “This little company of citizen soldiers were in their conceit and 

imagination very important and consequential fellows,” an ex-lieutenant later 

wrote scornfully of the Flat Rock Greys. “Invited to all the noted gatherings 

and public affairs of the day, dressed in gaudy and flashy uniforms and flying 

plumes, filled with pride and conceit.” For obvious pocketbook reasons, 

poorer men rarely joined such units. Panoply did not come at cut rates. The 

(Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1956). This paper is a slightly expanded version 

of the one read at the conference of Army historians held in Arlington, Virginia, in August 

2007.2Susan G. Davis, Parades and Power: Street Theatre in Nineteenth-Century Philadelphia

(Philadelphia: Temple University, 1986), pp. 49–53; James A. Ramage, Rebel Raider: The Life of 

General John Hunt Morgan (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1986), pp. 35, 41–42. 3 F. C. Harrington, Military History of Kentucky (Frankfort, Ky.: Military Department of 

Kentucky, 1939), p. 141. 4 William Henry Perrin, ed., History of Fayette County (Chicago: O. L. Baskin, 1882), 

p. 444.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 147

Lexington Rifles paraded in bearskin grenadier-style hats, and its duty caps 

had the seal of the state of Kentucky; another company used the tricorner 

hat of the American Revolution. Typical styles of the day included elaborate 

tunics, buttons, ribbons, buckles, and belts.5

The fraternal benefits of militia membership, then, gave members psychic 

rewards, but they were far from the universal service—the kind of citizen 

armies that Americans liked to think would save them from foreign foes in 

wartime. They were more for play than work because there was not much 

work for them to do. Theoretically, they stood ready to keep the civil peace 

and maintain order. A few actually served that purpose. Lawyers outraged at 

an outbreak of vigilantism in Louisville in 1857 formed Buckner’s Citizen 

Guards. At one point, Louisville’s fire chief led a company of militia that 

stood prepared to help on-duty firefighters if an emergency arose. (Curiously, 

there is no record of any militia company created in the 1850s specifically to 

forestall slave revolts.) But all these were rarities.6

Conceivably, Kentucky could have created a state militia to go along 

with all these private companies, one open to all citizens. Such a system had 

existed once. But with no Indian menace requiring a citizen army, it seemed 

an anachronism. The state legislature allowed the militia system to become 

dormant in 1854. The commonwealth dropped requirements for regular militia 

musters. It had passed out weapons but lost track of where they had gone. 

Those arms remaining were outdated muskets, usually in such poor repair as 

to be practically worthless. “There is in fact, no organized militia in the State,” 

a governor summed up in 1856.7

The Creation of the Kentucky State Guard

The raid on Harpers Ferry, Virginia, led by John Brown in 1859 changed 

all that. Fears that abolitionists might cross into Kentucky spreading mischief, if 

not murder, went far back into the state’s past. Now that a group of abolitionists 

had attacked Virginia, a sister border slave state, an attack on Kentucky would 

inevitably follow, or so most men believed. It seemed obvious to Governor 

Beriah Magoffin. Kentuckians had no way of knowing “at what moment we 

may have need of an active, ardent, reliable, patriotic, well-disciplined, and 

thoroughly organized militia,” he informed the legislature in December 1859. 

If “some of the most distinguished leaders and ministers of the Abolition 

and Republican party” did not plan Brown’s invasion, they surely knew of 

5Quote from L. D. Young, Reminiscences of a Soldier of the Orphan Brigade (Paris, Ky., 

1918), p. 12, and see also p. 11. Lexington Observer and Reporter, 16 Sep 1857. 6 Prior to John Brown’s Raid, Kentuckians had little reason to fear slave revolts—there 

had been none. After the raid, they effectively expelled abolitionist John G. Fee of Berea and 

others without incident. 7 Richard G. Stone, A Brittle Sword: The Kentucky Militia, 1776–1912 (Lexington: 

University of Kentucky Press, 1977), p. 59.
148 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

it, approved it, and helped it out. Of course, Magoffin erred. No Republican 

leader was involved, and the event shocked even radicals like Pennsylvania 

Congressman Thaddeus Stevens, who remarked, “You hung them exactly right, 

Sir,” to a Virginia representative after Brown’s execution. But Magoffin had 

made a convincing point to quite receptive lawmakers.8

In planning for a revived militia, the governor turned to 37-year-old 

Simon B. Buckner, a West Point graduate and Mexican War veteran living 

in Louisville. Buckner quickly submitted a proposal for reorganization so 

detailed that it even prescribed how many ostrich plumes the governor ought 

to wear, not to mention color. The legislature gave swift approval, bringing a 

new militia—the Kentucky State Guard (KSG)—into existence.9

To command it, Magoffin appointed Buckner himself to the office of state 

inspector general with the rank of militia major general. The appointment gave 

Buckner considerable powers and responsibilities. He could activate the militia 

in any emergency and for an indeterminate period. 

Buckner had the energy and enthusiasm for the task. At once he set to work 

scouring state records for weaponry to arm his forces. By early 1861, he could 

report that the state owned 11,283 muskets, 3,159 rifles, 2,873 cavalry arms 

outfits, and 53 field pieces—more weapons than the state of Ohio controlled 

at the onset of the Civil War. Around him he gathered a talented staff, among 

them Abraham Lincoln’s brother-in-law, Ben Hardin Helm, a U.S. Military 

Academy graduate who became assistant inspector general. He chose surgeons, 

commissary officers, quartermasters, and even chaplains with an eye to both 

their military capacity and the political ramifications. The choices proved 

effective ones.10

Buckner found much of his army ready-made. Existing companies quickly 

joined the KSG, with Morgan’s Lexington Rifles among the first officially 

mustered in. Other militia units, organized in reaction to John Brown’s Raid, 

also joined up. By August 1860, Buckner oversaw a force of forty-nine militia 

companies—some 2,500 men. That month, he put them on display, ordering 

a week-long training encampment near Louisville. It was a highly publicized 

event. Seeking a tactically proficient force, the inspector general reserved the 

first three days of training at the newly christened Camp Boone for officers 

only.11 One could, perhaps, see it as a rebel army in embryo, but the striking 

thing about the occasion was how much the KSG fit the social character and 

8 Journal of the House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Kentucky . . . 1859 

(Frankfort, Ky., 1859), p. 40; Fawn M. Brodie, Thaddeus Stevens: Scourge of the South (New 

York: W. W. Norton, 1959), pp. 133–34. 9An Act for the Better Organization of the Kentucky Militia, approved 5 March 1860, in 

Acts of the General Assembly of the Commonwealth of Kentucky Passed at the Session Which 

Was Begun and Held in the City of Frankfort on Monday, the Fifth Day of December, 1859 and 

Ended on Monday, the Fifth Day of March, 1860 (Frankfort, Ky., 1860), pp. 142–71. 10 Harrington, Military History of Kentucky, p. 147; Stone, Brittle Sword, p. 62. 11 The camp was set up at the South West Agricultural and Mechanical Association, of 

which secessionists Blanton Duncan and Thomas H. Hunt were members. See Sketches of Camp 
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 149

behavior of militia companies from times past. Alcohol flowed freely. One 

photograph of some officers displays a whiskey bottle carelessly left in the 

foreground. Soldiers made money too: one Sunday, 3,500 guests paid a 25-cent 

fee to watch a mock battle.12

Yet, upon closer inspection, the KSG had gone beyond people playing 

soldier—the politics of Union or secession had intruded. For some men, 

among them visiting secessionist Blanton Duncan and Maj. Thomas H. Hunt, 

commander of Louisville’s KSG regiment, the encampment gave them their 

first ever opportunity to exchange views and forge secret alliances with militia 

leaders from all over the state. With the 1860 presidential campaign in full 

swing, it is reasonable to speculate that, around campfires and over drinks, talk 

may well have turned to politics and what Kentucky would do if worst came 

to worst. The induction of the governor and many KSG officers into the “sketie-tu-rus” society (code for state rights) may have been as much a burlesque 

as it seemed, but what did it mean when select officers became members of 

the Knights of the Golden Spur? Was this mysterious order a thinly disguised 

surrogate of the Knights of the Golden Circle, an organization dedicated to the 

conquest and creation of an American empire for slavery?13 No hard evidence 

has survived, but, quite possibly, that August 1860 encampment served as a 

school for political education for those willing to listen.14

Certainly Buckner created a military force loyal to himself and ready 

to follow his commands—one with a professional officer corps that placed 

personal loyalty above political disagreement. Officers like Helm, Hunt, 

Morgan, Lloyd Tilghman, and Thomas L. Crittenden (the senator’s son) owed 

first allegiance to Buckner, whatever their own views of the rights and wrongs 

of the sectional conflict. That loyalty mattered; without it, Buckner’s leadership 

during the secession crisis of 1861 would not have been as consequential as 

it would prove it to be.

Just as important, most Guard officers plainly held to the southern rights 

position. That did not make them disloyal to the Union in 1860. Southern 

sympathies, fealty to Kentucky, and allegiance to Buckner were perfectly 

compatible with love for the Union at that time. But when sectional and 

national loyalties began to pull men apart, Buckner’s influence provided one 

of the strongest forces to hold them together and to keep men of Union and 

secessionist sympathies working together for the longest possible time.

Boone: The First Encampment of the Kentucky State Guard (Louisville, Ky.: G. T. Shaw, 1860), 

pp. 15–20; Louisville Daily Courier, 27 Aug 1860. 12 Louisville Daily Courier, 28 Aug 1860; Sketches of Camp Boone, p. 25. 13 The Knights of the Golden Circle, led by founder George W. L. Bickley, constituted a 

secret military society dedicated to the expansion of slavery throughout Latin America. The 

primary goal of the organization was to annex northern Mexico and create a new slave state. 14 Ltr, Blanton Duncan to Stephen A. Douglas, 7 Mar 1861, Douglas MSS, University of 

Chicago; Basil W. Duke, History of Morgan’s Cavalry (Cincinnati, Ohio: Miami Printing and 

Publishing Co., 1867), p. 36.
150 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Finally, an effective KSG just may have given Governor Magoffin more 

confidence in taking the political positions he did. The Kentucky Constitution 

of 1850 had made the office of governor a near-figurehead and had drastically 

trimmed the governor’s powers of patronage. But no provisions tampered with 

the governor’s powers as commander in chief. Now Magoffin had something 

worth commanding: an instrument of potentially great power; an army 

eventually numbering 4,000 men that conceivably might seize the Bluegrass 

state in a secessionist coup.

The Secession Crisis, 1861

Lincoln’s election and the secession of South Carolina shattered and 

realigned the political parties of Kentucky beyond recognition. By mid-January 

1861, Kentucky’s Democratic Party split into pro-Union (Douglas Democrats) 

and pro-southern (Breckinridge Democrats) factions. Meeting in private, 

leaders of the old pro-Union Whig Party and pro-Union Democrats joined 

forces to form a Union party officially named the Union-Democracy (UD). 

Pro-southern Democrats countered this Union party realignment several 

months later, creating the Southern Rights Party (SRP). Locked in a political 

struggle to determine Kentucky’s allegiance to North or South, the UD and 

the SRP competed feverishly for the hearts and minds of Kentuckians. 

These political maneuverings and machinations left the commonwealth’s 

Governor Magoffin almost as a man without a country—he had lost his 

formerly unified Democratic Party and, with it, his legislative majority. While 

Magoffin publicly espoused southern rights, he favored secession in his heart. 

But he understood better than most that loyalties in his state divided evenly and 

that his beloved commonwealth could rapidly disintegrate into anarchy and 

chaos. He feared Kentucky—a border slave state—would be ripped apart and 

destroyed due to its geographic proximity to both sides, as well as consumed 

in an internecine civil war.

And so Magoffin sat on the fence. He attempted to ride the crisis out, 

hoping for a sign and waiting for some indication of which side Kentucky 

should take. After all, many pundits predicted a short, ninety-day war. He had 

everything to gain and nothing to lose by waiting it out. He resisted Lincoln’s 

calls for troops after Fort Sumter had been fired upon, saying Kentucky would 

not supply soldiers for the “wicked purpose of subduing her sister southern 

states,” but at the same time he spurned southern commissioners and troop 

requests from the newly formed Confederate States. 

The aftermath of Fort Sumter tested the loyalties of the newly minted 

KSG militia. Secessionist Blanton Duncan and other radicals had perfected a 

scheme to muster rebel troops. Duncan recruited a regiment of Kentuckians 

for immediate Confederate service and, before the firing on Fort Sumter, had 

arranged that the rebels gather in Louisville for transfer south whenever Duncan 

gave the word. “I have tendered to Genl Davis a regiment of 1,000 men well 
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 151

drilled and prepared to march at a moment’s notice,” Duncan misinformed 

Senator Stephen A. Douglas in March 1861. “Of course you will keep this 

private.”15

Acting on Duncan’s plan after Sumter, the first rebel volunteers started 

arriving in Louisville on 12 April. Local authorities worried and Unionists 

openly charged that their real aim was to take over the city. Word soon spread 

that Buckner himself had arranged with Duncan to keep his soldiers home a 

little longer, “in the event that their services may be needed for the defense 

of Kentucky from Northern aggressions.” “Our city is assuming a decidedly 

military aspect,” one Louisville man noticed. “The tread of armed men is heard 

in our streets every day and night.”16

Alarmed, Louisville Mayor Thomas Crawford had earlier asked the 

governor to place a KSG company at his disposal in the event of trouble. 

Buckner now obliged, ordering Major Hunt to have a company report to 

the newly elected mayor, John M. Delph. On 18 April, Buckner detailed the 

Citizen Guards as a special police and ordered them to guard the city battery 

throughout the night. All that week, KSG companies shared the task of guarding 

the city. When a hundred-plus Confederates under Joseph Desha arrived from 

Cynthiana, Delph ordered state guardsmen “to be in their armories ready at 

a moment’s notice,” for “trouble might ensue.” But calm prevailed. When 

Duncan’s Confederate regiment, now four hundred strong, marched to the 

Louisville and Nashville railroad station for the journey south, they furled 

their banners, except for a Captain Harvey “who flung his to the breeze.” The 

city fathers must have breathed a sigh of relief, and they were right to do so. 

The departure of Duncan’s Confederates erased the most serious threat to the 

internal peace of Kentucky for the moment, and the KSG had proved loyal to 

the commonwealth in its first test.17

The Union Home Guard

If Buckner and his cohorts did not see the issue clearly at first, Unionists 

of the new Union-Democracy Party did. In order to save Kentucky for the 

Union, they must defeat or disarm the pro-southern KSG. The belief in a 

secessionist plot to seize the state was fixated in the minds of Union-loving 

men. According to the Louisville Journal, they saw daily indications that 

“the secessionists of Kentucky are moving in a secret conspiracy to take the 

State out of the Union by a sudden, violent and if necessary, bloody process.” 

Unionists needed military force to guard against this, and it could not, due to 

15 Ltr, Duncan to Douglas, 7 Mar 1861, Douglas MSS, University of Chicago.

16 Louisville Daily Courier, 13, 18, 20 Apr 1861. 17 Kentucky State Guard Special Order 56, Personnel Records, Kentucky National Guard, 

Frankfort (cited hereafter as KSG Special Orders); Alfred Pirtle, Journal, 20, 22 Apr 1861, 

Papers of Alfred Pirtle, Filson Historical Society, Louisville, Ky.; Louisville Daily Courier, 

20 Apr 1861.
152 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

political sensitivities, be a force of federal soldiers. Consequently, the Unionists 

created local Union Home Guard militias.18

The presence of well-trained, active KSG militia companies (composed 

of southern rights members) could and did intimidate Union men. Units 

numbering forty to fifty men with muskets and bayonets, chanting secession 

slogans, had the ability to frighten average citizens who had never seen 

armed formations during their lifetime. To civilians who had never seen large 

numbers of troops, uniformed men with rifles in their hands made a powerful 

impression. Mexican War veterans—men such as Buckner, Lovell Rousseau, 

or Morgan—knew better. They understood that the KSG and its tiny battalions 

could not effectively seize and hold the commonwealth. But to the average 

Kentuckian, a militia company of forty armed men seemed a mighty host. 

One Unionist complained that the KSG was “daily becoming insolent and 

overbearing and disposed to violence.” Another attacked the KSG, saying, “the 

thing they most respect is the strong arm with a weapon at the end of it.”19

Unionist Garrett Davis was convinced that the military situation in 

Kentucky was at a flash point. “The Union men of Kentucky express a firm 

determination to fight it out,” reported his contact, Union General George 

McClellan. “Yesterday Garrett Davis told me, ‘We will remain in the Union 

by voting if we can, by fighting if we must, and if we cannot hold our own, 

we will call on the General Government to aid us.’ . . . [He] convinced me 

that the majority were in danger of being overpowered by a better-armed 

minority.”20

To counter the Southern Rights Party, the Union-Democracy immediately 

called for the creation of local Union Home Guard militias to protect hearth 

and home. These independent companies—in reality, political militias—were 

organized and equipped by prominent Union men in Kentucky’s major cities 

and towns. On 25 April, Louisville opted to recruit two regiments of “police” 

and designated the new, pro-Union mayor John Delph as the commander in 

chief. “We are in favor of the Home Guards,” trumpeted the Yeoman, “and 

in favor of distributing arms judiciously among them, for local defense of the 

counties.”21

The elderly John J. Crittenden, a veteran of the War of 1812, captured 

headlines when he announced his membership in the 162-member Frankfort 

Home Guard. One can only imagine the impression it made upon Kentuckians 

seeing the ancient Crittenden, rifle in his hands, but the message was manly 

18 Louisville Journal, 8 Jun 1861. 19 Ibid., 2 Jul 1861

20 War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate 

Armies, 128 vols. (Washington, D.C., 1880–1901), ser. 3, vol. 1, p. 236; Ltr, McClellan to 

Townsend, 17 May 1861. 21 Frankfort Yeoman, 16 May 1861.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 153

and clear: the Union men of Kentucky would fight, and the Bluegrass state 

would go down in blood should secession be attempted.22

Covert Operations: The “Lincoln Guns . . .

Neutrality with a Vengeance”23

Like their KSG counterparts, the chief problem for Unionists was finding 

weapons with which to arm themselves. Fortunately for Kentucky Unionists, 

a covert operation under the direction of Navy Lt. William “Bull” Nelson 

came to their rescue. Nelson, stationed at Washington, D.C., met secretly 

with President Lincoln and proposed smuggling guns to Union men. Using 

Lincoln’s close personal friend, Joshua F. Speed, as his point of contact in 

Kentucky, Nelson met secretly with key Union leaders James Harlan, Charles 

A. Wickliffe, Garrett Davis, Thornton F. Marshall, and John J. Crittenden in 

Frankfort on or about 6 May. They founded the Union Defense Committee. All 

were of the “profound conviction that the guns were necessary to the salvation 

of the state.”24 And guns, later called Lincoln Guns, they would get.

Nelson signed for his first consignment of Lincoln Guns (5,000) at 

Cincinnati on 5 May, just days after his conference with Lincoln. He then 

shipped part of the consignment to Jeffersonville, Indiana, where 1,200 rifles 

were quietly issued by his agents to the Louisville Home Guard. Following this, 

Nelson put part of his Cincinnati cache on board Kentucky Central trains (17 

May) shipping them to Paris and Lexington, saturating the Bluegrass counties. 

Having exhausted his initial supply by 5 June and promised an additional 5,000 

rifles by Lincoln, Nelson continued his weapons operation from Cincinnati. In 

all, Bull Nelson oversaw the distribution of 23,000 rifles in Kentucky.25

Once the smuggled arms were in the hands of Union Home Guard men, it 

was never intended that they remain a secret. Instead, the news was leaked with 

great fanfare and effect. Southern rights leaders protested that the Lincoln Guns 

were designed to “begin civil war in Kentucky.” Under headlines entitled “THE 

CONSPIRACY,” the SRP accused the UD of duplicity, crying, “Companies of 

home guards . . . have driven every Southern man from their ranks.” The SRP 

also exaggerated the number of weapons, severely damaging its own cause; at 

22 Ibid., 30 Apr 1861. The willingness of Crittenden and other Union elders to shoulder 

a musket for their cause conjures up the image of Iranian revolutionary Mullahs circa 1979, 

who were no less determined. 23 Ltr, R. H. Stevenson to T. B. Stevenson, 18 May 1861, T. B. Stevenson MSS, Cincinnati 

Historical Society Library. 24 Kirwan, Crittenden, p. 436. Quote from Daniel Stevenson, “General Nelson, Kentucky, 

and Lincoln Guns,” Magazine of American History 10 (1883): 122, and see also p. 121. 25 Stevenson, “Nelson, Kentucky, and Guns,” pp. 119, 123–25. Most of the July consignments (13,000 rifles) were stored for issue to Tennessee units, which would be recruited in 

August.
154 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

one point, it overestimated the 2,500 rifles as 15,000. A Unionist later quipped, 

“Each gun was thus made to have the moral effect of three or four.”26

The psychological effect of militia weaponry had an important effect upon 

friend and foe. It tipped the balance in favor of the Union. Watching men 

parading down Main Street (Danville) with their new Lincoln Guns, Speed S. 

Fry was amazed at public reaction. “It would be impossible,” Fry observed, 

“for any one to describe, in language sufficiently strong, the consternation 

expressed in the countenances of these people, when they beheld my company 

of a hundred men file down Main street, with bayonets glistening in the sunlight, 

pointed above their heads, and nodding to and fro as they ‘kept step to the music 

of the Union.’” Guns, in the opinion of most Union men, “had a wonderfully 

quieting effect in the communities into which they were introduced.”27

A Neutral Regime?

With KSG and Home Guard companies threatening and taunting each 

other, Governor Magoffin—sometimes labeled “His Hesitancy”—worried that 

Kentucky teetered dangerously on the brink of destruction. In one of the most 

extraordinary actions of the Civil War, he proclaimed the Commonwealth of 

Kentucky neutral on 20 May 1861. In his proclamation, the governor urged 

Kentuckians “to refrain from all words and acts likely to engender hot blood 

and provoke collision.”28 He failed to mention his intention to mobilize units 

of the KSG to enforce neutrality throughout the commonwealth.

The recent crisis in Missouri—a bloody day in St. Louis on 10 May that 

sparked internal civil war in that state—plus public knowledge of Nelson’s 

smuggled Lincoln Guns resulted in special KSG military orders.29 Buckner, 

with Magoffin’s concurrence, determined to field a pro-neutral thousand-man 

militia army. In addition, Buckner sent orders to the Lexington Battalion (Roger 

W. Hanson commanding) to activate a camp of instruction on 20 May (the 

same day as Magoffin’s proclamation). Rumor had it that Lincoln’s troops 

would attack the KSG on 21 May. Was it all just coincidence? That same day, 

the Louisville KSG battalion was ordered by KSG headquarters (Louisville) 

26 First quote from Louisville Daily Courier, 20 May 1861. Second quote from Stevenson, 

“Nelson, Kentucky, and Guns,” p. 126, and see also pp. 122–23. 27 Thomas Speed, The Union Cause in Kentucky, 1860–1865 (New York: G. P. Putnam’s 

Sons, 1907), p. 109; Stevenson, “Nelson, Kentucky, and Guns,” p. 131. 28 Speed, The Union Cause in Kentucky, pp. 47–49. The legislature had also passed a 

neutrality resolution on 16 May. 29 On 10 May 1861, the Missouri State Guard was surrounded and captured by Union Capt. 

Nathaniel Lyon. No shots were fired and no resistance offered, but when a local column of 

Union Home Guards marched the 892 prisoners through St. Louis, an angry crowd gathered. 

Shooting began. Twenty-eight people were killed and seventy-five wounded. This incident, or 

“massacre” as pro-southerners called it, set off Missouri’s civil war. Duke, History of Morgan’s 

Cavalry, pp. 44–50; James W. Covington, “The Camp Jackson Affair: 1861,” Missouri Historical 

Review 55 (April 1961): 197–212.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 155

to activate a camp for six of its companies (to meet 21 May). The actions of 

the KSG had two purposes: first, to guard against Union military actions as 

had just occurred in St. Louis; and second, to ensure public tranquility as the 

neutrality proclamation became known.30

Working together, Magoffin and Buckner now attempted to restructure 

the commonwealth into an armed neutral, positioned to repel any invaders 

from the North or South. Under Magoffin’s direction, his state government 

energetically launched a neutral “foreign” policy, sending emissaries to 

Lincoln and Davis as well as to Union and Confederate military commanders. 

Two-man diplomatic teams, consisting of a pro-Union and a pro-southern 

negotiator who had pledged to promote Kentucky’s neutrality and interests, 

enjoyed initial successes, securing guarantees that Kentucky would not be 

invaded by either side.31

However, by June, the situation in Columbus, Kentucky, a hotbed of secessionist sentiment, threatened to destroy Magoffin’s and Buckner’s attempts 

to enforce neutrality. The town boasted a number of Confederate flags and 

banners, which invited Union gunboats to threaten the town with naval gunfire. 

Outside observers labeled Columbus “Kentucky’s Charleston.” To squelch 

secession sentiment, Buckner, on 10 June, in the most unusual act of his KSG 

inspector generalship, ordered six companies of the 4th Battalion (KSG troops 

from Paducah) to deploy to Columbus in order to pacify secessionists and to 

enforce state neutrality.32 He placed Lloyd Tilghman in command and ordered 

Capt. Henry Lyon of the engineer corps to join them. Buckner had been busily 

engaged throughout western Kentucky at this time. Prior to his activation of 

the KSG troops, he had persuaded Confederate States of America Brig. Gen. 

Gideon Pillow to cancel a planned Kentucky invasion, but Columbus’ problems 

and the threat from Union gunboats required decisive action. According to 

Buckner, “the highly excited state of the citizens of Columbus and vicinity, 

and the indiscretion of many of them, at every moment imperiling the peace 

of the Commonwealth, induced me to . . . call into the field a small military 

force [whose object is to] quiet the unhealthy excitement.”33

Buckner clearly stated that his purpose in activating the KSG was to 

“protect all citizens” and to “carry out the obligation of neutrality which the 

State has assumed . . . restraining our citizens from acts of lawless aggression.” 

One newspaper was shocked, asserting that the troops had been called out 

“to protect Union men.” In ordering this most peculiar of actions, Buckner, a 

southern rights man, had deployed pro-southern militia units to quell secession 

30 Paris Western Citizen, 31 May 1861; KSG Special Orders 126, 127. 31 Searching for additional weapons, Magoffin also sent purchasing agents to the North 

and South. 32 Buckner activated 4 infantry companies, 1 artillery company, and 1 cavalry company 

to move from Paducah to Columbus. 33 Louisville Daily Courier, 12 Jun 1861.
156 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

sentiments and uphold Kentucky neutrality!34 Why had he done this, and to 

what purpose?

Setting Traps

Unionists believed, and Buckner’s actions and those of his subordinates 

seem to suggest, that secessionists desired to keep Kentucky neutral as a first 

stage or half-step to disunion until a majority of Kentuckians finally made up 

their minds that their true destinies lay with the South. Conversely, Buckner 

and other disunionists must have been extremely discouraged as they witnessed 

the creation of opposition Union Home Guard militias equipped with thousands 

of Lincoln Guns put into the hands of loyal Union men. How could they dare 

hope, as many privately whispered, to “take Kentucky out?” 

Providentially, the overt and aggressive actions of Union Capt. Nathaniel 

Lyon at St. Louis on 10 May provided KSG conspirators with a usable template 

for revolution—an incident similar to St. Louis, if it were to occur somewhere 

in Kentucky, would allow disunionists to rally an outraged Bluegrass state to 

the southern side. “If Unionism means such atrocious deeds as I have witnessed 

in St. Louis, I am no longer a Union man,” a Missourian who had strongly 

opposed secession exclaimed. Many citizens of Kentucky shared his thoughts 

on the subject. Kentuckians were edgy.35

Could Kentucky Unionists be provoked, trapped, or manipulated into 

perpetrating an act of violence on Kentucky soil? Southern rights military men 

hoped so. For years, Kentuckians had heard that the “Black” Republicans were 

aggressive abolitionists who would stop at nothing. Following St. Louis, the 

belief that federal usurpations formed part of a larger Republican conspiracy 

to subjugate the border slave states gained dominance. Alfred Pirtle’s friend 

Cabell from St. Louis believed,

That [Missouri] will be changed by these high-handed actions into secession and then the Federal government having succeeded in their object of 

precipitating the State will throw so many and such large bodies of troops 

into the State that the citizens of Missouri will find themselves overawed 

and held in check by the hands of hireling Abolitionists . . . he sees in the 

Administrations movements towards our Commonwealth [Kentucky] indications of such proceedings here.

That Pirtle, later a Union Army officer, shared the same outrage and 

conspiracy beliefs as most Kentuckians, is seen in his comment, “We hope 

the time will not find us so unprepared as Missouri was.”36

34 Ibid., 15 Jun, 1 Jul 1861.

35 Christopher Phillips, Damned Yankee: The Life of General Nathaniel Lyon (Columbia: 

University of Missouri Press, 1990), p. 193; Pirtle, Journal, 11, 15 May 1861. 36 Pirtle, Journal, 15 May 1861.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 157

Believing Lincoln and Republicans to be aggressive by nature, apparently 

all Buckner and his KSG cohorts need do was set the traps. And so, beginning 

in May 1861, this is exactly what Buckner and the KSG attempted to do. They 

ordered the KSG militia into a number of camps across the commonwealth in 

hopes that Unionists would attack at least one of them. One Union attack on a 

KSG encampment, regardless of the military outcome, would act as a catalyst 

for revolution. “Indeed, the Secessionists of the State Guard, if there be any, 

went out on purpose to be taken, perhaps,” an embedded reporter observed. 

“They will hold Lincoln to be meaner than ever if he doesn’t accommodate 

them in this cherished wish of their gizzards.” Still, “it is rather ominous that 

a cause needs blood to give it vitality.”37

With a potentially hostile Union Army camp just across the Ohio River 

from Louisville (Camp Joe Holt), KSG Lt. Col. Thomas H. Hunt carefully 

chose an exposed campsite. Expecting a federal attack, Hunt decided to train 

his battalion at Shepherdsville, thirty miles south of Louisville. Positioning his 

camp at a bend on the south side of the Salt River, Hunt began training his men 

in six-day iterations. He named the site Camp Shelby. The Paroquet Springs 

resort, conveniently at hand, lent the encampment the same social-military 

atmosphere that had prevailed at the 1860 encampment.

Hunt went into camp with six companies of his regiment on 21 May 

for one week of training. He expected the Kentucky Rangers (cavalry) and 

the Citizens Artillery in a few days. To read Citizen Guard soldier Pirtle’s 

account of camp life, one would think that the entire enterprise consisted of 

sheer boredom. According to Pirtle, “The hours are spent reading, writing, 

card-playing, rowing on the salt river.” In fact, “reading and lounging around 

is the order of the day.”38

Magoffin and Buckner perhaps thought otherwise. Convinced that 

Unionists were about to move, they awaited action. Receiving what later 

proved to be false reports, Magoffin informed Buckner that he believed that 

a Union force from Cincinnati would attack Camp Shelby between 21 and 

26 May. Events in Missouri filled everyone’s minds. Rumors of an imminent 

attack circulated. “It has been softly whispered,” wrote reporter Charley Kirk, 

“that if this camp is continued (and the probability is it will be for some time) 

the ‘Abolitionist Administration’ will adopt the same measures in regard to 

it that they did so effectually with the St. Louis Brigade. . . . We have an eye 

to this.”39

Buckner arrived at Camp Shelby to take command on 26 May and the 

following scene ensued: “Last evening was one of excitement in our little 

camp. A rumor was set afloat that dispatches of great importance had been 

received at Headquarters [and when] orders to sleep on arms and 40 rounds 

37 Daily Louisville Democrat, 28 May 1861. 38 KSG Special Orders 127; Pirtle, Journal, 21, 15 May 1861.

39 Louisville Daily Courier, 27, 30 May 1861.
158 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

of cartridges were issued the boys gave vent to their feelings in three cheers. 

Picket Guards were posted last night.”40

Forty rounds of ammunition was standard combat issue in 1861, for Hunt’s 

battalion state neutrality had become mighty peculiar. But the awaited Union 

attack never came—the traps of the KSG had all been set in vain. Union leaders 

of Kentucky had also observed the events in Missouri and had learned the 

appropriate lessons. Kentucky Unionists opted to await events while building 

a Union Home Guard as a deterrent force. Meanwhile they sought bloodless 

ways to eliminate the KSG.

Dismantling of the Kentucky State Guard

“Some Have Gone to Parts Unknown”

The end of the KSG came about by cutting off funds, redistributing 

weapons, and requiring loyalty oaths. Suspicious as ever, the UD-dominated 

State General Assembly demanded access to Magoffin’s correspondence 

and transactions with the Confederate government and insisted that all KSG 

militiamen take an oath of loyalty to the United States. It also arranged to divide 

the weaponry between the KSG and the Home Guard units. Finally, on the last 

day of the May session, the legislature set up a five-member military board to 

oversee the arming of Kentucky. “Humiliating as it is,” a southern rights man 

noted, this creation stripped Magoffin of “all his military power.”41

The results of the Union-dominated military board’s decisions did not take 

long to effect a change. Secessionists in the KSG, tired of marking time while 

war raged about them, slowly but surely left the KSG ranks and went south to 

join the Confederate Army—many of them turning over their arms to Home 

Guard units in their communities. A lack of funding would force the closure 

by mid-July of Camp Joe Daviess—a permanent training camp established by 

Hunt in early June atop Muldraugh’s Hill—and other places like it.42

The Union loyalty oath proved to be most deadly. The insistence of southern 

rights men upon a code of honor was admirable but naïve for revolutionaries. 

They again played into Unionist hands. In this instance, Kentucky Unionists 

understood southern rights men better than southern rights men understood 

themselves. By insisting on a Union loyalty oath, pro-southern members of 

KSG units quit their ranks in large numbers.43

40 Ibid., 28 May 1861.

41 Pirtle, Journal, 10 May 1861; E. Merton Coulter, The Civil War and Readjustment in 

Kentucky (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1926), p. 87; Louisville Daily 

Courier, 22 May 1861. Quote from Frankfort Commonwealth, 29 May 1861. 42 At first, $5,000 in training funds had been authorized (15 June), and $30,220 for powder, 

caps, muskets, balls and shot, lead, and musket repair. By July, the military board would undo 

this decision. 43 Official Records, ser. 3, vol. 1, p. 238; Ltr, McClellan to Townsend, 17 May 1861.
Intimidation, Provocation, Conspiracy, and Intrigue 159

Lucas G. Hughes informed Governor Magoffin, “The members of the 

Hancock Rifle Company K.S.G. in the 2nd Saturday in July 1861 at their 

Company meeting, after reading of the General Order No. 4 refused to take 

the oath required . . . having thereby become disbanded.” His letter was one of 

many. Submitting his resignation, M. S. Kouns admitted that his company’s 

strength had fallen to seventeen members: “Some have Vol[unteered] in the 

Federal Army & Some have gone to parts unknown.”44

To most modern observers, the oath appears trivial, but, to many men of 

1861, matters of principle and honor defined themselves. Pirtle understood 

the issue and was alarmed. He worried that if the oath was insisted upon, “the 

only arm the State now has would be disbanded.”45

A few pro-secessionists dodged the oath. They understood the object of 

Unionists and urged their comrades not to feel obligated by having sworn. Pirtle 

was not impressed when one of Buckner’s aide-de-camps, Maj. Alexander 

Cassedy, dropped by the Citizen Guards to administer the oath. “A great 

diversity of opinion exists as to the obligation imposed by the oath, some taking 

it very lightly,” Pirtle noted. “The officer administering it, Cassidy [sic] said 

he would be willing to take it every morning before breakfast thus speaking 

lightly of the oath.”46

Money, state armaments, and loyalty oaths—none of this eventually 

mattered, for on 21 July, as the news of the Battle of Bull Run became known, 

Buckner and his loyal but pro-southern officers would resign their positions in 

the Kentucky State Guard and go south to join the Confederate Army. The KSG 

was at an end. Union Home Guard militias now held the high ground—they 

had saved Kentucky for the Union.

Conclusions

While the KSG existed, its contribution to Kentucky in 1861 was significant 

in many respects. Buckner later argued that his pro-neutral KSG delayed a 

Union and Confederate invasion while preserving the peace of Kentucky. 

The record shows Magoffin forcefully advocated the use of the KSG as an 

instrument of neutrality and that he remained, at best, a secret secessionist. 

Indeed, when examined over time, events seemed to have forced Magoffin to 

evolve into a sincere neutralist. 

Almost as importantly, the KSG recruited Kentucky secessionists and held 

them in check. It inadvertently paralyzed the revolutionary zeal of men ready 

to join the rebellion and force Kentucky out of the Union at the point of the 

bayonet. At camps such as Joe Daviess on Muldraugh’s Hill, they dreamed of 

secession and glory and waited for orders and military action that never came. 

44 Ltrs, L. G. Hughes to Magoffin, 21 Sep 1861; M. S. Kouns to Magoffin, 3 Sep 1861, 

both in Governor’s Military Correspondence, Kentucky Historical Society. 45 Pirtle, Journal, 18 May 1861.

46 Ibid., 3 Jun 1861.
160 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

The KSG saved Louisville from a possible Blanton Duncan secession plot in 

April, and in June it pacified the would-be secessionists of Columbus. When 

southern rights men burned a Kentucky Central railroad bridge near Cynthiana 

to stop the southward movement of Lincoln Guns in August, Magoffin granted 

Thomas L. Crittenden permission to call out a KSG company if needed. At 

every turn, the KSG, despite its pro-southern proclivities, had helped preserve 

the hegemony and peace of Kentucky.

The KSG’s second contribution was strategic. Albeit unwillingly at times, 

it backed state neutrality with force. The presence of a well-armed pro-southern 

militia willing to back neutrality kept Unionists temporarily off-balance. 

Tacticians on both sides had to abide by neutrality rather than risk a bloodbath. 

So long as a sizable portion of the KSG remained in Kentucky and loyal to 

Magoffin-Buckner, neutrality stood a chance. Buckner fully understood the 

KSG was the only force in Kentucky that included southern rights, neutrality, 

and Union men in its ranks. Only with the dismantling of the KSG could the 

commonwealth take a decisive stand for the Union. Meanwhile, the hollow 

force stood as a potential nuisance to invaders—perhaps just enough of one 

to discourage belligerents early in the war.

The third contribution of the KSG was political. KSG companies bolstered 

and supported the Southern Rights Party at meetings and political gatherings. 

Without KSG protection, Union men may have broken up southern rights 

meetings. The odds are that SRP leaders would have been subjected to arrest 

or forced to flee Kentucky much sooner then September 1861. In this sense, 

the KSG added to the longevity of Kentucky’s Southern Rights Party, giving 

it backbone and allowing the debate over North or South to continue well 

beyond that of any other southern state.

Finally, the Kentucky State Guard and Union Home Guard made possible 

a more peaceful process of polarization between UD and SRP constituencies. 

Unionists joined Home Guard units, while SRP men joined KSG companies. 

Kentuckians sorted themselves out peacefully, and over time the extremists of 

both sides were siphoned off to rival Confederate or Union armies gathering 

on the commonwealth’s borders instead of fighting it out inside the state. The 

KSG, in ways unique and unforeseen, had helped assist in preserving state 

hegemony, internal peace, and political freedom. Be it Kentucky 1861 or Iraq 

2008, peaceful or violent, militias have their uses.
The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and 

Villagers: The Long-Term Effects of John Hunt 

Morgan’s Raid on an Indiana Community

Stephen I. Rockenbach

On the morning of 9 July 1863, a group of horsemen surrounded a two-story 

farmhouse situated along the Mauckport road leading from the Ohio River to the 

town of Corydon, Indiana. One of the men dismounted and entered the house, 

setting the furniture on fire. Catherine Glenn tried to dissuade the intruder, 

while her husband, Peter Glenn, came running down the stairs, followed by 

his adult son, John. Peter wrestled with the invader while John attempted to 

extinguish the fire. A second raider entered the house and ended the scuffle by 

shooting Peter Glenn, who stumbled outside into the yard. John Glenn rushed 

to his father’s side, but the horsemen shot the young man through both thighs. 

The raiders left the mortally wounded Peter Glenn, his seriously injured son, 

and their horrified wives to watch the house burn and headed toward the town 

of Corydon. Although this incident was part of Confederate General John Hunt 

Morgan’s infamous “Great Raid” through Ohio and Indiana, it shows evidence 

of the same brutal tactics used by Civil War guerrillas throughout the upper 

South. Why would troopers of the 5th Kentucky Cavalry—not guerrillas in 

the true sense of the word, but regular troops—commit such a violent action 

against civilians? Their motivation becomes clearer once we realize that, early 

that morning near the Glenn house, cavalrymen from the 6th Regiment of the 

Indiana Legion (the state militia organization) charged a scouting party of 

forty Confederate cavalry and killed Pvt. John Dunn of the 5th Kentucky. His 

fellow Kentuckians burned the Glenn farm as an act of vengeance perpetrated 

by men who entered the state of Indiana intent on bringing the war north of the 

Ohio River. Indeed, they caused a considerable amount of economic loss to 

civilians and inaugurated two years of guerrilla violence and partisan warfare 

in a region previously spared such depredations. 

Many historians, amateur and professional alike, enjoy retelling Morgan’s 

exploits, although the celebratory nature of these accounts obscures the overall 

effect of irregular warfare on civilian populations.1 My approach departs 

1The literature pertaining to Morgan’s July 1863 raid is vast and ranges from voluminous 

collections of stories to short, county-specific descriptions of events. See the following books 

for various, and often conflicting, accounts of the raid, including some of the incidents that 

occurred in Corydon and Harrison County: Lester V. Horwitz, The Longest Raid of the Civil 
162 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

from the raid narrative and incorporates the approach of social history and 

community studies. Studying the raid’s effect on one community reveals how 

the different forms of irregular warfare—partisan warfare, guerrilla tactics, and 

cavalry raids—intertwined along the Ohio River border. The material effects 

of the raid were significant, perhaps more than we could comprehend with 

mere numbers, but, after the raid, citizens in southern Indiana also became 

disillusioned with both their Kentucky neighbors (many of Morgan’s men, 

and Morgan himself, were Kentuckians) and the Union military authorities 

(whom they blamed for allowing Corydon to be occupied in the first place). On 

that hot July day in 1863, as Peter Glenn lay bleeding in front of his burning 

house, Corydon began the transformation from river valley community to 

besieged border town. 

Southern Indiana’s first indoctrination into border war was significant 

because it occurred as the war steadily hardened. During the first two years 

of the war, most military commanders avoided targeting civilian populations 

in favor of achieving military objectives, but guerrilla fighters consistently 

used retribution, coercion, or confiscation to achieve their means. In reference 

to “hard war” strategy, historian Mark Grimsley states that in early 1863 

Union commanders had not “yet harnessed those energies in major operations 

against Southern infrastructure and society.” Morgan, not a guerrilla leader 

in the true sense, was one of a number of Confederate commanders who 

Grimsley concludes “fought in unorthodox but mostly above-board fashion.”2

Additionally, Robert R. Mackey demonstrates the complexity of this topic by 

providing useful categories for the three different types of irregular warfare 

common to the upper South during the Civil War: “guerrilla, or people’s 

war, partisan warfare, and conventional cavalry used as raiders.” Although 

Mackey’s study highlights particular aspects of irregular warfare, he notes 

that “all three types of irregular warfare existed simultaneously throughout the 

Upper South, with a varied amount of impact on the Federal forces.” Mackey 

concludes that irregular warfare proved fruitless for the Confederacy, because 

the Union Army successfully developed countermeasures.3 However, if viewed 

from the perspective of border citizens, cavalry raids and guerrilla warfare 

did have significant and enduring effects. In the case of Corydon, the Morgan 

War: Little-Known and Untold Stories of Morgan’s Raid into Kentucky, Indiana, and Ohio, 

rev. ed. (Cincinnati, Ohio: Farmcourt Publishing, 2001), passim; David L. Taylor, With 

Bowie Knives and Pistols: Morgan’s Raid in Indiana (Lexington, Ind.: Taylormade Write, 

1993), passim; Arville Funk, The Morgan Raid in Indiana and Ohio (Corydon, Ind.: ALFCO 

Publishing, 1971), passim. 2 Mark Grimsley, The Hard Hand of War: Union Military Policy Toward Southern 

Civilians, 1861–1865 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 105 (first quote) and 

p. 112 (second quote). 3 Robert Russell Mackey, The Uncivil War: Irregular Warfare in the Upper South, 

1861–1865 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2004), p. 5 (first quote), p. 6 (second 

quote), and see also pp. 7–9.
The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers 163

raid shattered people’s sense of security, encouraged further violence, and 

crippled the local economy. 

When Morgan’s raiding party of approximately 2,500 cavalry and 4 artillery pieces occupied the hills above Brandenburg, Kentucky, on 7 July 1863, 

Union authorities knew of the Confederate military presence in Kentucky. 

However, Army commanders failed to prevent Morgan’s force from reaching 

the Ohio River. On 8 July, Union officers throughout the river border learned 

that Morgan had taken Brandenburg and had begun crossing the Ohio River 

using two captured steamboats.4 A handful of local forces and one Union 

gunboat failed to halt Morgan’s crossing. Some of the residents of the southern 

portion of Harrison County fled to Corydon with whatever property they could 

carry. As citizens armed themselves, hid valuables, and prepared for the worst, 

the rebel cavalry took food, tack, livestock, fodder, and whatever else they 

wanted from the houses and villages in the area.

Southern Indiana’s official military branch, the Indiana Legion, responded 

to the threat by mobilizing its members and any willing volunteers. However, 

the legion in Harrison County mustered approximately five hundred men, 

while well over two thousand Confederate cavalry approached the town. On 9 

July,the legion cavalry spread out along the roads south of town and prepared 

to ambush the Confederate attackers, while the legion infantry companies 

constructed a barrier on the southern edge of town. The townspeople knew 

that they could not stop the larger enemy force, but they hoped to slow down 

the approaching enemy and give the legion troops from the nearby city of 

New Albany time to arrive.5 Writers and some local enthusiasts refer to the 

thirty-minute fight that preceded Morgan’s capture of the town as the “Battle 

of Corydon,” even though participants and military authorities always referred 

to the incident as a “fight” or a “raid.” The Confederate troops made one poorly 

conceived charge against the entrenched legion companies before encircling 

the defenders. The legion and its volunteers retreated into town, but they 

surrendered after Morgan’s artillery fired on several buildings occupied by 

women and children. 

Perhaps something more akin to a full-fledged battle would have occurred 

had reinforcements from the nearby city of New Albany arrived. Brig. Gen.

Jeremiah T. Boyle, who commanded the state and federal troops in the 

Louisville area, believed that Morgan intended to attack New Albany and, 

as a result, refused to let the city’s legion companies go to the aid of their 

4 Brev. Lt. Col. Robert N. Scott and Maj. George B. Davis, The War of the Rebellion: 

A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, 128 vols. 

(Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1880–1898); Brig Gen Asbroth to Maj. Gen. 

Burnside, 8 Jul 1863, ser. 1 sol. 23, pt. 1, pp. 709–10. 5 Rpt, William Farquar, in Operations of the Indiana Legion and Minute Men, 1863–4

(Indianapolis: W. R. Holloway, State Printer, 1865), pp. 42–43; Thomas Slaughter to “Sir,” 

17 Aug 1863, Indiana Legion Records, folder 5, box 10, Indiana State Archives (ISA), 

Indianapolis, Ind.
164 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

comrades in nearby Corydon. After the raid, William Hisey, the Harrison 

County treasurer, wrote to Indiana Governor Oliver P. Morton asking for 

General Boyle’s resignation on the grounds that the Union commander let 

“rebel cavalry, with artillery, destroy a country town.”6 Although Hisey spoke 

with the bitterness of a man who lost $786.87 in cash and property to the 

raiders, the complaint was not totally unfounded.7 Boyle’s inactivity in part 

explains why the Indiana Legion proved so ineffective during the crisis. For 

Corydon’s citizens, the raid exposed the flaws in Indiana’s militia organization 

and started a gradual decline in faith in Union military authority.

The immediate and extensive effects of the raid, including eight Harrison 

Countians killed and several wounded, threatened the community’s livelihood. 

The raiders stole or damaged over $80,000 in property in Harrison County 

alone. Horses and tack were the most common items taken, although Morgan’s 

guerrillas helped themselves to valuables, food, cash, and clothing. Merchants 

suffered the highest monetary loss, including Samuel J. Wright, who lost 

approximately $5,524 in merchandise from his store in Corydon.8 His losses 

forced Wright to place an ad in a local paper asking all his customers to pay 

their debts to him because “Morgan’s band of thieves [had] robbed me of 

at least half my goods.”9 At the beginning of the war, Wright accepted the 

potentially lucrative position of quartermaster for the 6th Legion regiment. In 

January 1864, he resigned as quartermaster, citing the financial burden of the 

post, supply difficulties, and the raid’s effect on his business. Wright eventually 

sold his store and fell back on his legal training.10

Farmers, laborers, mechanics, and tradesmen who lost far less monetarily 

than Wright also risked privation, especially those farmers trying to finish the 

6 H. S. Hisey to Gov Morton, 23 Jul 1863, microfilm reel 6, O. P. Morton Papers, ISA.

7 James Ramage considers the $690 in cash that raiders took from William Hisey to be 

“Union funds.” James A. Ramage, Rebel Raider: The Life of General John Hunt Morgan

(Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1986), p. 172. Regardless of whether or not Morgan 

justified this behavior as confiscating property from the Union government, Hisey requested 

compensation for the stolen money and other valuables. The United States Quartermaster 

Department (USQD) denied the claim in 1886, and Hisey was never reimbursed. File 248, box 

603, Record Group (RG) 92, Misc. Claims, 214, National Archives and Records Administration 

(NARA), Washington, D.C. 8 Indiana Morgan Raid Claim Commission Records, microfilm, p. 37, Indiana Historical 

Society Library (IHS), Indianapolis, Ind. 9Corydon Weekly Union, 10 Nov 1863, reprinted in News of Long Ago: From Republicans 

of Another Century scrapbook, Corydon Local History and Genealogy Library, Corydon, Ind. 10 S. J. Wright to A. Stone, 18 Jan 1864, folder 5, box 10, Indiana Legion Records, ISA. 

The raiders purposely targeted other businessmen, charging a $500 protection fee (under threat 

of burning down the buildings) for three of the community’s mills. In the 1880s, the owners 

of the three mills applied for reimbursement for the ransom they paid Morgan. Additionally, 

Phillip Lopp asked for $4,761 for his mill, which raiders suspected as housing bushwhackers 

and subsequently burned on 8 July 1863. None of these claims fit the specifications of the 

Quartermasters Act of 4 July 1864; therefore, the USQD refused payment. File 119, box 602; 

files 134 and 203, box 603; and file 462, box 605. All in RG 92, Misc. Claims, 214, NARA.
The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers 165

wheat harvest. Many citizens lost horses, essential for many of the jobs related 

to harvesting and marketing surplus goods.11 The raiders took between 300 and 

400 horses in Harrison County, while the Union cavalry in pursuit of Morgan 

took an additional 150 mounts, often without leaving proper receipts with 

the civilian owners.12 A number of male citizens stayed to hide their property 

instead of joining the legion companies in town, while others left the job to 

their wives and children. Isaac Pitman returned to his fields the day after the 

raid to cut wheat with his three horses and one borrowed animal. A group of 

raiders had overlooked the animals when Mary Pitman made them breakfast 

on 9 July, but the following day Union cavalrymen took two horses and left 

Pitman to finish his work with half a team.13

State and military authorities took steps to remedy the raid’s effect on local 

agriculture, although not all of the regulations regarding recovered horses worked 

in favor of the farmers. Governor Morton ordered General Henry B. Carrington, 

commander of the Indiana military district, to issue a detailed description of 

the procedure for reporting and recovering stolen or confiscated horses. The 

message detailed the policies and procedures needed to remedy “the exigencies 

of the harvest and the interruption of the farming interests by the John Morgan 

raid.” Carrington ordered all citizens who had replacement horses to give these 

animals to the provost marshal. Farmers who lost horses were able temporarily 

to keep such found horses, but only until the end of the harvest. The provost 

marshal gathered all the recovered horses in each locality and redistributed them 

to farms, depending on individual need, a measure that guaranteed that citizens 

could bring in the wheat harvest and transport it to market. However, once done, 

citizens who did not turn in animals were open to prosecution.14

Civilians encountered a number of problems with the procedure for 

claiming animals and applying for reimbursement. Those citizens who lost 

horses to Morgan’s men filed descriptions and affidavits, often having to 

travel as far as Cincinnati (approximately a hundred miles away) to find their 

animals. The United States Quartermaster Department (USQD) did not attempt 

to return animals that Union forces had captured, offering them for sale instead. 

Even people who lost horses to Union cavalry did not always have an easy 

time getting reimbursement. The USQD required the claimant to produce a 

receipt or at least two sworn witness statements indicating that Union forces 

had taken the property. In the confusion and urgency of the pursuit of Morgan, 

11 J. Sanford Rikoon, Threshing in the Midwest, 1820–1940: A Study of Traditional Culture 

and Technological Change (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988), pp. 14–16. 12 Henry Beebee Carrington to Gov O. P. Morton, Filson Historical Society (FHS), 

Louisville, Ky.; Files 123, 147, 171, box 603; files 265, 342, 345, box 604; files 405, 424, 459, 

box 605; and file 503, box 606. All in RG 92, Misc. Claims, 214, NARA. 13 Files 453 and 434, box 605, RG 92, Misc. Claims, 214, NARA.

14 “Losses and Impressment of Property during the Morgan Raid: General Carrington 

Order,” 16 Jul 1863, O. P. Morton Papers, microfilm reel 6, ISA. See also New Albany Daily 

Ledger, 17 Jul 1863. For the myth about Indiana and Ohio farmers benefiting from the superior 

horses left by Morgan’s raiders, see Horwitz, The Longest Raid, p. 377.
166 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

many claimants did not get valid receipts, and those who did could not always 

locate them. Henry Richard was standing in his farmyard watching Union 

cavalrymen when one of the troopers approached, carrying his saddle and 

bridle. The soldier took Richard’s mule to replace the cavalryman’s recently 

expired mount but gave no receipt in turn.15 Although civilians were elated to 

see the Union troopers, the pursuit further burdened the community. 

At its essence, the raid into the border free states was political in motivation 

and design. Morgan wanted to bolster the hopes of Kentucky secessionists 

while making Hoosiers and Buckeyes, quite literally, pay for their states’ role 

in supporting the Union’s military and political efforts to keep secessionists 

from gaining control of Kentucky. The New Albany Daily Ledger declared that 

Morgan violated “all the rules of civilized warfare” by robbing citizens, extorting 

civilian businesses, and stealing horses. The newspaper complained that Morgan 

did little damage to railroads or other military objectives, instead focusing on the 

“spoliation of defenseless farmers and villagers.”16 Affected civilians could not 

be convinced that Morgan’s raid had any strategic objective. Instead, the raid 

was a direct attack on themselves, their property, and their livelihood.

The July 1863 raid soon encouraged small guerrilla bands to pick up 

where Morgan left off, launching raids along the river border and forcing 

border residents to dedicate their energy to protecting their homes and 

property instead of aiding Kentucky Unionists. Yet the guerrilla presence 

did not necessarily draw troops away from the front or help the Confederate 

war effort in any significant way. The raid inaugurated a period of guerrilla 

activity along the Ohio River and emboldened the activities of local partisans, 

who used the opportunity to exact vengeance upon their Unionist neighbors. 

These small independent bands of raiders, regardless of whether they 

claimed legitimacy under the Confederacy’s Partisan Ranger Act, applied 

Morgan’s methods on a local basis.17 Citizens in southern Indiana feared that 

Morgan’s success encouraged “men made desperate by the dark clouds now 

overhanging their sinking cause” to assault and rob Unionists living north 

of the Ohio River. Community leaders urged civilians to defend themselves 

and bitterly reminded border residents that military authorities had failed 

to help them in early July when “the wolf was upon us.”18 Morgan’s raid, 

15 Files 435 and 455, box 605, RG 92, Misc. Claims, 214, NARA.

16 New Albany Daily Ledger, 23 Jul 1863. 17 Scott J. Lucas, “‘Indignities, Wrongs, and Outrages’: Military and Guerrilla Incursions 

on Kentucky’s Civil War Home Front,” Filson Club History Quarterly 73 (October 1999): 371; 

James B. Martin, “Black Flag over the Bluegrass: Guerrilla Warfare in Kentucky, 1863–1865,” 

Register of the Kentucky Historical Society 86 (Autumn 1988): 352–75. For a discussion of 

the variety of guerrilla activity occurring in Kentucky during the war, see B. Franklin Cooling, 

“A People’s War: Partisan Conflict in Tennessee and Kentucky,” in Guerrillas, Unionists, and 

Violence on the Confederate Home Front, ed. Daniel E. Sutherland (Fayetteville: University 

of Arkansas Press, 1999), pp. 113–32. 18 New Albany Daily Ledger, 20 Jul 1863.
The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers 167

combined with subsequent guerrilla activity along the river border, brought 

the war home to Harrison Countians. 

The fluidity of the border war explains how southern Indiana, a relatively 

peaceful region until the spring of 1863, quickly devolved into a borderland of 

violence and destruction. The evidence demonstrates a clear connection between 

Morgan’s command and the small bands of guerrillas that terrorized Unionists: 

most of the “war rebel” or “home rebel” leaders had once belonged to Morgan’s 

cavalry. B. Franklin Cooling’s research supports the idea that guerrilla war was 

fluid and difficult to define, noting that in Tennessee and Kentucky the separate 

levels of people’s war “often blurred in defiance of easy interpretation.” The 

people’s war included guerrilla war, but could also encompass fighting between 

militia and volunteer armies.19 This was the situation in the vicinity of Corydon, 

where the legion struggled to fend off pro-Confederate forces, and prominent 

Unionists became targets for violent retribution. 

In 1864, guerrillas in Meade County and other Kentucky counties near the 

Ohio River intensified their attacks against Unionists in the months leading 

up to the local elections that fall. The guerrilla bands wanted to intimidate, 

kill, or run off local Unionists in order to establish local political control.20

Brandenburg, the seat of Meade County, was the epicenter of guerrilla activity. 

Between June 1864 and February 1865, partisans perpetrated several raids, 

robberies, and shootings in the vicinity. Many of these men were from Meade 

County, and they intimidated, murdered, and robbed their Unionist neighbors.21

In July 1864, seventeen guerrillas crossed the river on skiffs, entering the 

southeast corner of Harrison County. Five of these men took cash and property 

from a well-known Unionist, but his neighbors learned of the disturbance and 

helped rout the bandits. The following month, the gang of guerrillas contented 

themselves with remaining on the Kentucky shore and firing on steamboats 

passing through the area. These attacks were not random violence but rather 

the result of the guerrillas’ “bitter hate” for meddling Unionists living north 

of the river.22 These individuals had given up on affecting the outcome of the 

war and resolved to discourage Unionists in southern Indiana from influencing 

politics in Kentucky. In effect, they followed Morgan’s example by heaping 

retribution on these primarily Unionist communities. 

One solution to the guerrilla problem was to reaffirm the alliance between 

Unionists in southern Indiana and Kentucky. Brig. Gen. Henry Jordan, 

commander of the Indiana Legion, wrote Indiana’s Adjutant General, William 

H. H. Terrell, in November 1864, outlining the issues facing Corydon’s 

Unionist population and proposing a plan to remedy the violent conditions on 

19 B. Franklin Cooling, “A People’s War: Partisan Conflict in Tennessee and Kentucky,” 

p. 113. 20 New Albany Daily Ledger, 16, 21 Jun, 9 Aug 1864. 21 Lizzie Schreiber Diary, Stith-Moreman Papers, FHS; New Albany Daily Ledger, 30 Jun, 

12, 17, 19 Aug 1864, and 4 Jan, 14 Feb 1865. 22 New Albany Daily Ledger, 27 Jul, 9 Aug (quote), 19 Aug 1864.
168 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the border. He described how the guerrillas often fired at Harrison Countians 

from the Kentucky shore or discouraged citizens from going to Kentucky to 

conduct business or visit friends and family. Jordan suggested neutralizing 

the threat by raising one or two regiments of cavalry for six months’ service 

on the south side of the river. Men from southern Indiana would join these 

units, which, according to Jordan, would compel the soldiers to take their 

duty seriously and to refrain “from wanton depredations on property.”23

Governor Morton, a Republican, never supported this plan and spent more 

time suppressing Democratic political opposition than tending to the problems 

facing the state’s southern border. 

Morgan’s raid on Corydon had an enduring economic effect, although 

the true extent of the damage only becomes apparent when one looks into the 

postwar army records and newspaper articles. In 1867, some 468 Harrison 

County residents filed $86,551.72 in claims with the U.S. government, 

a sum of which totaled about 5 percent of all personal property listed in 

the 1860 census.24 These citizens required quick compensation in order to 

replace the animals and tack essential to rural life, but the official response 

to their losses was slow and indecisive. Indiana’s state government was 

responsible for passing legislation for payment of these claims, with the 

understanding that the federal government would eventually reimburse it. 

But Indiana’s bitter political partisanship prevented victims of Morgan’s 

raid from receiving the swift action they needed to replace property and 

pay debts.25

For many Harrison County citizens, the ordeal shaped their postwar 

experience and diminished their faith in the state and national governments 

that failed to protect them from danger or compensate them for their losses. 

During the 1880s, the United States quartermaster general (USQG) tried to 

review Indiana’s outstanding claims, but the Indiana state government failed 

23 Rpt, Brig Gen Henry Jordan, in Operations of the Indiana Legion and Minute Men, pp. 

102–04. 24 Report of Morgan Raid Commissioner to the Governor, 31 Dec 1869, RG 92, Collective 

Correspondence file, Morgan’s Raid, box 697, NARA; U.S. Historical Census Data Browser, 

accessed 28 Nov 2004. 25 U.S. Quartermaster General’s Office to H. S. Morey, 4 Apr 1882, RG 92, Collective 

Correspondence file, Morgan’s Raid, box 696, NARA. Lester Horwitz incorrectly concludes 

that Indiana paid its claims in the same fashion as Ohio, which assessed and settled all claims 

at the end of the war (Horwitz, The Longest Raid, pp. 60, 383–84). In Indiana, Republicans 

seriously undermined efforts to address the Morgan’s raid losses in an attempt to maintain 

control over the state government. After the elections in 1862, Republican state senators 

reacted to the Democratic gains in the state assembly by leaving the capital and refusing to 

allow a quorum. The Democratic senators wanted to take away Morton’s ability to control the 

Indiana Legion, which led Republicans to claim that “Copperheads” were planning to use the 

state troops to form a northwest Confederacy. Morton not only approved of this tactic, but he 

operated the state with private and national funds from 1863 through 1865, occasionally using 

unlawful methods to accomplish this (Emma Lou Thornbrough, Indiana in the Civil War Era, 

1850–1880 [Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Bureau, 1965], pp. 185–87).
The Spoliation of Defenseless Farmers and Villagers 169

to release sufficient documentation. Indiana’s adjutant general claimed that 

the detailed affidavits and documentation that the commission had collected 

were “lost.”26 Between 1880 and 1887, the USQG assessed and adjudged 

the claims as best it could, based on resubmitted information from the 

citizens of southern Indiana, including 468 claims from Harrison County. 

But the efforts of southern Indiana politicians failed to galvanize support for 

legislation paying all Morgan’s raid claims. Therefore, the USQG processed 

and paid only those claims for property lost to Union troops, marking all 

others “taking and use not proven” or “rebel.”27 Harrison County residents 

and their descendants submitted a total of $81,558.07 of unpaid claims to 

the USQG, but the amount paid under the Act of 4 July 1864 amounted to 

only $8,659.28

The brief raid on Corydon and Harrison County served as a catalyst for 

building partisan tensions in the region, but historians assess Morgan’s raid as 

largely ineffective because it did not yield strategically viable results or affect 

the outcome of military operations. The disruption to Union forces and supply 

lines that the raid inflicted failed to justify the loss of men and equipment 

to the Confederate cause. However, the ulterior motives of Morgan and his 

men included an objective completely detached from Confederate strategy: 

retribution. Border Confederates wreaked vengeance on the Unionists in the 

Ohio Valley who kept Kentucky from seceding. If one measures the effect 

of Morgan’s politically motivated “payback” throughout southern Indiana 

and Ohio, then the raid did have some success. In Corydon, citizens were 

hard-pressed to affect political events in Kentucky after the raid, although 

they strongly supported Bluegrass Unionists earlier in the conflict.29 The raid 

emboldened pro-Confederate Kentuckians and allowed them to gain local 

political control during and after the war. As Confederate strategy, Morgan’s 

cavalry raid was impressive, yet ineffective. As an assertion of pro-Confederate 

26 Quartermaster General’s Office, A Report on the Letter of M. J. Kinney of the 17th, 20 

Aug 1880, RG 92, Collective Correspondence file, Morgan’s Raid, box 697, NARA. 27 Samuel B. Holabird, Quartermaster General, to Honorable Secretary of War, 11 Feb 1884, 

RG 92, Collective Correspondence file, Morgan’s Raid, box 696, NARA; Corydon Democrat, 

29 Aug 1923. There were some attempts to remedy the situation, but they suffered from the 

same political division that doomed the Indiana Morgan’s Raid Claims Commission. In 1884, 

the Senate Commission of Claims drafted Senate Bill 527 in an attempt to pay all Morgan’s 

raid claims in Indiana and Ohio. Strother M. Stockslager, a lieutenant in the Legion during 

the raid and a state representative in 1884, worked to gain support for the bill. He believed 

the bill did not pass because politicians from other states did not have any vested interest in 

compensating Hoosiers. 28 These totals were compiled from RG 92, Office of the Quartermaster General, Claims 

Branch 1861–1889, Quartermaster stores (Act of 4 July 1864), Misc. Claims, bk. 214, claims 

36–504, NARA. The total amount of claims submitted to the United States quartermaster 

general (USQG) differs from the Indiana Morgan’s Raid Claims Commission ledger by only 

$152.83. 29 Stephen I. Rockenbach, “War upon Our Border: War and Society in Two Ohio Valley

Communities, 1861–1865” (Ph.D. diss., University of Cincinnati, 2005), pp. 41–43.
170 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

support and determination in the Ohio River Valley, it was significant; the 

raid expedited the creation of the Ohio River as a barrier between North and 

South and allowed pro-Confederate forces in Kentucky to assert their influence 

locally, if not nationally. 
Irregular Engineers: The Use of Indigenous 

Labor in the Rebuilding of Critical Infrastructure 

During the Korean War, 1950–1953

Eric A. Sibul 

Introduction 

The Eighth United States Army, Korea (EUSA), made extensive and effective 

use of indigenous labor to reconstruct the Korean National Railroad (KNR) in 

autumn 1950 and spring 1951. Indigenous labor carried out the temporary repair of 

bridges and restoration of railroad lines with remarkable speed, using only native 

tools and light equipment. Native engineers made bridge repairs using ingenuity 

and improvised materials. EUSA engineer and transportation officers considered 

the native work force to be of invaluable assistance in rebuilding railroad lines 

that were of critical importance for logistic support to combat forces. Although 

this paper focuses on reconstruction of railroad lines, native labor was also of 

vital importance to construction and repairs of other critical infrastructure, such 

as airfields and over 2,700 miles of military roads.1 Native labor also assisted in 

ways other than construction: nine companies of A-frame carriers of the Civilian 

Transportation Corps (later integrated into the Korean Service Corps) carried on 

their backs food, water, ammunition, and signal and engineering material to EUSA 

combat troops on mountaintop positions accessible only on foot.2 This paper will 

demonstrate how native labor, local organizations, and indigenous skills helped 

provide logistic support to a modern army. 

The Korean National Railroad as a Critical Infrastructure

According to military historian Martin Blumenson, infrastructure had 

emerged by the time of the Korean War as a decisive strategic concept in 

1 James A. Huston, Guns and Butter, Powder and Rice, US Army Logistics in the Korean 

War. (Selinsgrove Pa.: Susquehanna University, 1989), p. 290; Benjamin King, Richard C. Biggs, 

and Eric R. Criner, Spearhead of Logistics: A History of the United States Army Transportation 

Corps (Fort Eustis, Va.: U.S. Army Transportation Center, 1994), p. 309; Charles W. Voss and 

Sedgwick R. Bryon, “Aviation Engineers Do the Groundwork in Korea,” Army Information 

Digest (February 1953): 28.

2 Bradley J. Haldi, “Korean Service Corps—Past and Present,” Army Logistician

(July–August 1987): 22–23; Margaret A. Mallman, “Korean Brawn Backs the Attack,” Army 

Information Digest (December 1951): 47–49.
172 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

military operations. Infrastructure in a theater of operations consists of fixed 

permanent installations and facilities that make sustained ground force operations immediately feasible. If these installations and facilities do not exist, they 

must be established before protracted warfare can occur.3 The KNR was the 

infrastructure sine qua non for military operations in Korea, 1950–1953. The 

Japanese built the Korean railroad system between 1904 and 1945 as a strategic 

network connecting Korean ports to Manchuria. The Korean railroad system 

was a very well-constructed military railroad almost entirely for the benefit 

of Japanese forces.4 The Japanese developed the Korean highway system to 

serve purely local needs and to serve as a feeder system to the railroads.5 Given 

the nature of the Korean transportation infrastructure from 1950 to 1953, the 

mobility of men, munitions, and supplies in the Korean theater of operations 

depended on railroads as much as it had in the American Civil War nearly 

ninety years earlier.6 Approximately 95 percent of all supplies cleared at ports 

and moved to forward supply points via the KNR. The same held true in the 

movement of personnel, including the rotation of troops and the evacuation 

of casualties.7 Despite overland movements predominantly less than three 

hundred miles, motor transport could not supplant railroads in Korea due to 

the limited road network and the short supply of vehicles, petroleum, and 

manpower. The number of trucks initially requested for EUSA use in Korea 

in autumn 1950 was greater than could be obtained either from army depots or 

from new production. While the KNR had an extensive existing organization, 

no existing motor transportation organization in the Republic of Korea (ROK) 

could provide the needed logistic services. Given the come-as-you-are nature of 

the war, training and organizing a motor transportation service using indigenous 

labor to supplant the KNR would be too time-consuming and difficult. EUSA 

did organize three truck companies composed of indigenous civilian labor. 

3Martin Blumenson, “The Emergence of Infrastructure as a Decisive Strategic Concept,” 

Parameters (Winter 1999–2000): 39. 4 Conversation Between General Edmund C. R. Lasher and Lt Col D. R. Lasher, p. 63, 

Senior Officers Debriefing Program, U.S. Army Military History Institute (USAMHI), Carlisle 

Barracks, Pa. 5 Roy E. Appleman, South to the Naktong, North to the Yalu (June–November 1950), 

United States Army in the Korean War (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military 

History, 1961), p. 117. 6Ollie Atkins and Sylvia Crane Myers, “The World’s Worst Railroad Headache,” Saturday 

Evening Post, 14 Jul 51, p. 126; William T. Faricy, ”Railroads—Mighty Weapon in Korea,”

Defense Transportation Journal (March–April 1952): 30; A. A. Hoeling, “The Army’s in the 

Railroad Business,” American Mercury (February 1954): 47; Sidney A. Levy, “Build ’em 

up—Blow ’em up,” Railway Progress (February 1952): 7; George L. Wiley, “Transportation 

Corps—A Decade of Service,” Army Information Digest (August 1952): 32. 7 Atkins and Myers, “The World’s Worst Railroad Headache,” p. 126; Hoeling, “The 

Army’s in the Railroad Business,” p. 47; Ruben Levine, “Iron Horse vs. Iron Curtain,” Machinist 

Monthly Journal (November 1951): 349; James A. Van Fleet, Rail Transport and the Winning 

of Wars (Washington, D.C.: Association of American Railroads. 1956), p. 23.
Irregular Engineers 173

Based in Pusan, they operated all types of motor vehicles, ranging from jeeps 

to heavy trucks, gasoline tankers, and wreckers.8

KNR was tasked as the primary transportation service in the ROK, but the 

immense traffic demands quickly overwhelmed its management abilities and 

the movement control capabilities of the Republic of Korea Army (ROKA), 

which were both relatively new and inexperienced organizations. Before 1945, 

railways in Korea were under tight control of the Japanese state. In almost all 

cases, the Japanese held administrative and technical jobs, while the Koreans 

for the most part were employed in positions involving mainly manual labor; 

few held any kind of management position. The positions largely attainable by 

Koreans were as track and car repairmen, roundhouse hostlers, and passenger 

car cleaners.9 From 14 September 1945 to 7 September 1948, the United States 

Military Government in Korea (USMGIK) operated the Korean railways with 

the intention of leaving the KNR as a viable, state-owned national railroad for 

the ROK. Despite largely perfunctory training of Koreans by Transportation 

Corps personnel to assume technical and managerial positions, the USMGIK 

seems to have been successful in this effort. Between 7 September 1948 and 

the outbreak of the war on 25 June 1950, KNR operated with improving 

efficiency while carrying an increasing amount of freight and passengers.10 

However, the rapid Communist capture of Seoul, where the KNR had numerous 

facilities, a substantial amount of equipment, and a sizable portion of its work 

force, as well as the tremendous burden of heavy military traffic and masses 

of refugees made it impossible for the young railway organization to cope 

without outside assistance.11

Consequently, in July 1950, EUSA negotiated through the U.S. 

Ambassador to Korea, John J. Muccio, the transfer of operational control of 

KNR from the ROK government to the United States Army.12 On 26 August 

1950, the U.S. Army activated the 3d Transportation Military Railway Service 

8Huston, Guns and Butter, Powder and Rice, p. 180; Julian Thompson. Lifeblood of War: 

Logistics in Armed Conflict (London: Bassey’s, 1989), pp. 125–26; Van Fleet, Rail Transport 

and the Winning of War, pp. 26–27; John G. Westover, Combat Support in Korea, U.S. Army in 

Action Series (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center for Military History, 1987), pp. 43–44. 9United States Military Government in Korea—Bureau of Transportation, Record Group 

(RG) 554, National Archives and Records Administration (NARA); G. Harry Huppert, “Korean 

Occupational Problems,” Military Review (December 1949): 15; Craford F. Sams, Medic: The 

Mission of an American Military Doctor in Occupied Japan and War-Torn Korea (Armonk, 

N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, 1998), p. 206. 10 Korea: Its Land, People and Culture of All Ages (Seoul: Hakwon-sa,1960), p. 266; 

Kyotongbu [Ministry of Transportation], Transportation of Korea 1957 (Seoul: Ministry of 

Transportation, 1957), p. 38. 11 Neville Brown, Strategic Mobility (New York: Praeger, 1964), p. 218; Crump Garvin, 

“Pitfalls in Logistic Planning,” Military Review (April 1962): 7. 12 “Headquarters 3D Transportation Military Railway Service Background,” in U.S. Army 

Forces Far East and Eighth Army, Logistics in the Korean Operations (Camp Zama, Japan: U.S. 

Army Forces Far East and Eighth Army,1955), vol. 3, ch. 6, p. 6, U.S. Army Transportation 

Museum Library (USATML); Kyotongbu, Transportation of Korea 1957, p. 40.
174 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

(3d TMRS), which would eventually grow to an organization of two railway 

operating battalions, one railway shop battalion, and a military police battalion. 

It also supervised 32,000 KNR civilian employees.13 Korean personnel were 

vital, since the 3d TMRS’ very much understrength units had no hope of 

running the railroad system without them. The 3d TMRS worked closely with 

the Army Corps of Engineers, notably the 32d Engineer Construction Group, 

in the reconstruction and refurbishment of railroad lines.14

Reconstruction Tasks

Indigenous labor was of critical importance in assisting in the reconstruction of the railroad lines after the breakout from the Pusan Perimeter in 

September 1950; after the Chinese intervention and United Nations Command 

(UNC) fallback to the Pyongtaek-Ansong-Wonju-Samchok line; and after 

the advance to the 38th Parallel again in March 1951. With the UNC return 

to the 38th Parallel in 1951, it regained approximately seventy miles on the 

central mainline railroad from the defense line to Yongdungpo on the Han 

River, and twenty-two severely damaged or destroyed bridges. The situation 

paralleled the situation after the breakout of the Pusan Perimeter in September 

1950. With little exception, every bridge rebuilt on the United Nations (UN) 

advance had been first destroyed by friendly retreating forces.15 For EUSA, 

rebuilding bridges offered the greatest single challenge in getting railroad lines 

back into service. The urgency and immensity of the task required a division 

of labor. The U.S. Army construction engineers took on the reconstruction of 

the largest bridges, and the 3d TMRS, mobilizing the resources of the KNR 

as well as Korean contractors and additional civilian labor, assumed the bulk 

of the responsibility for repairing smaller railroad bridges, as well as clearing 

tunnels and re-laying railroad track.16 Originally, the EUSA paid the KNR 

monthly for transportation services, and the KNR used the funds to cover 

repair costs. However, the vast scale of reconstruction exhausted the KNR’s 

funds by December 1950. As a result, the EUSA assumed direct responsibility 

to pay all labor and other charges associated with reconstruction. Indigenous 

labor was paid in Korean currency as well as being provided with supplies 

of food. In the war-torn ROK, the Americans had no problem recruiting 

13 3d TMRS, Unit History and Activity Report (August–September 1950), RG 407, NARA; 

Logistics in the Korean Operations, vol. 3, ch. 6, p. 6. 14 Huston, Guns and Butter, Powder and Rice, p. 290; M. Clare Miller, “High Steel in 

Korea,” Military Engineer (September–October 1951): 332; 3d TMRS, Unit History and Activity 

Report (1–31 March 1951), RG 407, NARA. 15 Logistics in the Korean Operations, vol. 3, ch. 6, p. 12; Paschal N. Strong, “Engineers 

in Korea—Operation Shoestring,” Military Engineer (January–February 1951): 14. 16 Appleman, South to The Naktong, North to the Yalu, p. 639; Huston, Guns and Butter, 

Powder and Rice, p. 290; Joseph R. Slevin, “World’s Biggest Traffic Department,” Railway 

Progress (October 1952): 9; Strong, “Engineers in Korea—Operation Shoestring,” pp. 

291–92. 
Irregular Engineers 175

labor who quite willingly undertook the strenuous construction tasks. Whole 

communities along the railroad lines mobilized for the reconstruction work.17

The use of indigenous labor was absolutely necessary, as the 3d TMRS and 

the 32d Engineer Construction Group remained very much understrength and 

short of heavy construction equipment.18

Methods and Tools

U.S. Army engineer construction battalions assigned the larger bridge repair 

jobs—such as the 800-foot-long and 120-foot-high Killachon Bridge—moved 

in with heavy equipment and materials such as pile drivers, cranes, bulldozers, 

air compressors, and steel beams. Assigned the smaller bridges, Koreans moved 

in with masses of men, women, and children; sandbags; and native tools. The 

Koreans made up for their lack of heavy equipment with human numbers and 

often with great ingenuity in their repair work. The practical knowledge of 

native engineers supplanted formal training and standard American engineering 

practices. U.S. Army transportation and engineer officers supervised the 

overall work but left the methods and organization up to KNR officials and 

contractors.19

The native officials overseeing the work developed various expedients 

to replace the damaged or destroyed components of bridges. They replaced 

destroyed stone and concrete bridge piers with huge pyramidal structures made 

out of sandbags—some piled seventy-five feet high. For bridge stringers, the 

Koreans used rails, interlocking eleven lengths of rail tied together with baling 

wire, as a substitute for one heavy I-beam. The temporary bridges built by these 

methods slid and dipped, sagged and swayed, even as the first test locomotive 

ran over them, but they held up for several months remarkably well under the 

heavy traffic. The Korean laborers built five of these sandbag-and-improvisedsteel-beam bridges in one seven-day stretch. More permanent steel-and-piling 

bridges replaced the temporary bridges as soon as time allowed.20

The Koreans also built permanent concrete bridge piers rapidly without 

the benefit of a mixing plant and dump trucks. Long lines of laborers passed 

sand, gravel, and cement in sandbags. Hordes of men, women, and children 

shoveled the sand, gravel, and cement together into a trough, to which a 

17 United Nations Civil Assistance Command Korea, United Nations Civil Assistance 

and Economic Aid Korea (1 October 1951–30 June 1952), RG 338, NARA; 3d TMRS, Unit 

History and Activity Report (1–31 October 1951), RG 407, NARA; Westover, Combat Support 

in Korea, p. 64. 18 Strong, “Engineers in Korea—Operation Shoestring,” p. 336.

19 Miller, “High Steel in Korea,” p. 332; Slevin, “World’s Biggest Traffic Department,” 

p. 9; Paschal N. Strong, “The Korean Builder,” Military Engineer (September–October 1951): 

336. 20 Carl R. Gray Jr., Railroading in Eighteen Countries: The Story of American Railroad 

Men Serving in the Military Railway Service 1862–1953 (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1955), 

p. 312; Strong, “The Korean Builder,” p. 336.
176 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

hydraulic expert poured water. The expert gauged the proper water content by 

gurgle. The wet concrete was then carried by an endless line of laborers, each 

carrying a box of about one cubic foot capacity on his back. With a loaded box, 

a laborer walked up the ramp, dumped the load of concrete, and walked down 

again. The dumping was done by trap door in the bottom of the box opened 

by a string. The steady stream of concrete created by this method reportedly 

equaled the mechanical mixers and conveyors used by U.S. Army engineers.21

When they required pilings for bridge trestles, the Koreans drove piles without 

a mechanical pile driver using a high tripod, a rope, a pulley, and a concrete 

block. The concrete block, which served as the driver, was alternately lifted 

and dropped by about twenty laborers pulling on the rope and chanting a song 

for proper timing.22

Manual labor and simple tools moved whole bridge spans as well. The 

Japanese had built the Korean railroad system largely for military purposes, on 

double-track lines. Most tunnels had separate bores for each track, and there 

were single-track bridges in parallel rather than a double-track bridge. This 

mitigated damage from air attacks and allowed for quick restoration of railroad 

traffic after an aerial attack.23 The Koreans took advantage of this feature to 

rebuild bridges. Where there were two parallel bridges and the span of one 

bridge was out while the corresponding one on the other bridge was intact, the 

good span was manhandled over to the other bridge. They accomplished this 

by building cribs of cross ties connecting the two bridges and manhandling 

the girders on rollers until the span moved to its new location. They launched 

long, heavy girders by the cantilever method, with the girder being rolled out 

from the adjacent span by block and tackle and Spanish windlass. The most 

complicated piece of equipment in these operations was a screw jack. These 

efforts quickly opened single-track lines and left the other track with missing 

spans for later restoration as quickly as time and material allowed.24

The Koreans also proved very adept at salvaging steel from damaged 

bridges for reuse. When they needed reinforcing steel for a new concrete 

structure replacing a demolished one, they chipped the concrete away from 

the steel in the demolished bridge and used it for the new job.25 All these jobs 

were undertaken with simple tools in lieu of mechanized equipment. Without 

sawmills, they split planks off logs using a sledgehammer and a steel wedge. 

This produced rough and unfinished planks of more or less uniform size. The 

hand saws that the Koreans used, based on Japanese practice, had crosscut 

teeth on one edge and rip-cut on the other, making them more efficient tools 

21 Huston, Guns and Butter, Powder and Rice, pp. 287–88; Strong, “The Korean Builder,” 

pp. 337–38. 22 Strong, “The Korean Builder,” p. 338.

23 Ibid.; Van Fleet, Rail Transport and the Winning of Wars, p. 33. 24 Strong, “The Korean Builder,” p. 338. 

25 Ibid. 
Irregular Engineers 177

than American single-purpose saws. They crushed stone for railroad roadbed 

ballast manually, using nothing more than sledgehammers.

An interesting tool used for placing and grading ballast was the three-man 

shovel. Working in unison, the chief operator thrust the shovel, attached to two 

lines, while two assistants pulled the lines. An American officer described it 

as “poetry in motion.”26 Using such tools, Korean track repair gangs worked 

with seemingly incredible speed; they repaired as many sections of track in 

three or four days as U.S. Army transportation and engineer personnel could 

repair in ten days using far more equipment.27 Ironically, a few miles to the 

north of the battle lines, hosts of other Koreans and Chinese labored in railroad 

repair teams that undoubtedly employed the same techniques to keep enemy 

logistic lines open in the face of intense UNC aerial bombardment, naval 

gunfire, and guerrilla and commando raids. For this task, the Democratic 

People’s Republic of Korea Railway Recovery Bureau had two construction 

brigades, and the Communist Chinese forces committed at least two railway 

construction divisions. By July 1953, as many as 40,000 Chinese railway 

construction troops were reportedly in North Korea.28

Needless to say, the expedient nature of repairs to track and bridges did 

affect railway operations. Derailments were a constant problem for the 3d

TMRS and KNR in autumn 1950. The hastily restored track was subject to 

heavy rail traffic, and the situation was further compounded by the worn-out 

condition of the rolling stock. Six derailments occurred in one day, which 

completely overwhelmed the only heavy wrecking crane available on the entire 

railroad system. Again, indigenous skills and manpower proved of great use, 

as experienced KNR personnel cleared tracks and re-railed rolling stock with 

manual labor, readily available materials, and simple tools.29 According to 

Capt. Max Brown of the 714th Transportation Railway Operating Battalion, 

“I marvelled at the ingenuity of the Koreans as they put freight cars onto the 

rail with little or no equipment.”30

An Assessment

The contributions of indigenous labor clearly benefited KNR operations 

during the critical reconstruction periods in autumn 1950 and spring 1951, when 

army engineers and transportation corps personnel were hard-pressed to rebuild 

railroad lines rapidly enough to meet the support needs of advancing EUSA 

combat forces. According to Lt. Col. Howard W. Martens, assistant general 

manager for engineering, 3d TMRS, in this regard, “You can’t give too much 

26 Ibid. 

27 Westover, Combat Support in Korea, p. 63. 28 Charles R. Shrader, Communist Logistics in the Korean War (Westport, Conn.: 

Greenwood Press, 1995), p. 119. 29 Westover, Combat Support in Korea, p. 66. 30 Ibid.
178 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

credit to the Koreans.”31 Korean ingenuity and quick work in difficult bridge 

repair problems vividly impressed Colonel Martens.32 Indigenous organization 

and methods in the bridge repair efforts also impressed Col. Paschal N. Strong, 

the EUSA engineer officer, who noted that 

the existence of the surprisingly efficient organization known as the Korean 

National Railroad was of immeasurable assistance in repairing railway lines 

and strengthening damaged railway bridges. True, their method of strengthening damaged trusses made the American engineer shudder, but not one of 

their crazily repaired structures has yet failed.33

Colonel Strong felt that the Army engineers could effectively learn 

from their experiences working with Korean builders. He observed that 

American engineers had become so accustomed to using mechanized 

equipment in construction projects that they forgot what could be done by 

hand alone. According to Strong, “With unlimited cheap labor around him, 

he [the engineer] is often unable to visualize ways and means to use that 

labor effectively in the absence of his favourite equipment.”34 The EUSA 

engineer officer felt that it would be beneficial for military engineers to study 

indigenous construction practices, as it would be useful for engineering 

operations in future overseas contingencies. Colonel Strong felt that vital 

construction work in a theater of operations could be readily accomplished 

without waiting for additional heavy equipment and material to arrive from 

the Zone of Interior.35 While American engineer and transportation officers 

were favorably impressed with the ingenuity and alacrity of indigenous labor, 

their Korean counterparts were reportedly equally impressed with the speed 

and mechanized methods with which the American engineers reconstructed 

various long and high-level bridges.36

Conclusions 

Indigenous labor certainly provided valuable assistance in rebuilding 

critically important railroad lines, as EUSA transportation and engineer units 

were understrength in personnel and short of heavy equipment and building 

material. Seemingly ancient practices helped to sustain a modern army with very 

heavy logistic needs. An existing local organization, the KNR, was of central 

importance in organizing and providing skilled labor for reconstruction work. 

This work took place with the hazards and urgency of wartime; accidents cost 

31 Slevin, “World’s Biggest Traffic Department,” p. 9.

32 Ibid.

33 Strong, “Engineers in Korea—Operation “Shoestring,” p. 14.

34 Strong, “The Korean Builder,” p. 338.

35 Ibid.

36 3d TMRS, Unit History and Activity Report (1–31 March 1951).
Irregular Engineers 179

numerous lives during the rebuilding of bridges and the clearing of obstacles 

on railroad lines, which occasionally contained unexploded ordnance.37 Why 

this work was done without coercion or hesitation was perhaps due, in part, to 

traditional Confucian values, a sense of parochial pride, patriotism, and genuine 

perception of an enemy threat. On a more basic level, people simply needed to 

eat. The agricultural life of the country was disrupted by the fighting and by 

the foodstuffs looted by Communist forces. The ROK was short of food, thus a 

hot noon meal was often more of motivating factor for labor than wages.38 The 

efforts of the indigenous labor force served the EUSA very well. Judging from 

the comments of EUSA engineer and transportation officers, the contributions 

of native labor greatly assisted in restoring critically important railroad lines 

to service in autumn 1950. General James A. Van Fleet, EUSA commander, 

was “surprised” and “delighted” at the speed at which railroad lines were 

restored to service in April 1951.39 Perhaps mechanized equipment might have 

been more efficient and American engineering practices more conventional, 

nevertheless, the often ingenious engineering methods and diligent work of 

native labor completed urgent reconstruction tasks in a timely fashion when 

military personnel and modern construction equipment were not available. 

37 Atkins and Myers, “The World’s Worst Railroad Headache,” p. 126; Kyotongbu,

Transportation of Korea 1957, p. 43. 38 Crump Garvin, “Pitfalls in Logistics Planning,” Military Review (April 1962): 7. 39 Van Fleet, Rail Transport and the Winning of Wars, p. 49. 

Part Three

U.S. Counterinsurgency Operations

The Victorio Campaign: Hunting Down an 

Elusive Enemy

Kendall D. Gott

The United States Army has often conducted operations in inhospitable 

climates and rugged terrain against an elusive and determined foe. Emilio 

Aguinaldo of the Philippines, Pancho Villa of Mexico, and, in recent times, the 

Muslim terrorist Osama Bin Laden faced the superior weaponry and materiel 

of the United States Army and put up a persistent and often effective struggle. 

Operations against these men were costly in manpower, bitterly frustrating, 

and took months of hard campaigning. The Army also faced extreme public 

scrutiny and a hostile press. The story of the Victorio campaign presents direct 

and relevant lessons for today’s leaders.

Almost from its inception, the United States government sought to separate 

the growing number of settlers from the indigenous peoples by clearly defining 

tribal lands and keeping the native tribes within them. This goal evolved into 

a reservation system that encouraged the inhabitants to plant crops and live 

in settlements, thus giving up the old ways of hunting and gathering. The 

Bureau of Indian Affairs within the Department of the Interior administered 

the reservations. Unfortunately, the bureau was permeated by corruption and 

mismanagement.1 With full stomachs and warm blankets, the American Indians 

might have become resigned to their new lives on the reservations, but too 

often rations were short or foul, and government corruption and inefficiency 

deprived them of promised blankets, clothing, and shelter. This situation left 

hunting or stealing as the only methods of survival; however, the reservations 

did not provide enough land for successful hunting. Although most of the 

tribes confined themselves to the reservations peaceably, bands of warriors 

often left these tracts and attempted to return to their traditional lands and old 

ways of life or, in some cases, simply to raid and pillage. The years 1879–1880 

were particularly tense in the southwestern United States, as various bands 

simultaneously sallied out of their reservations. The U.S. Army was engaged 

almost everywhere across the vast frontier, protecting civilians and pack trains 

from attack or hunting down the wayward raiders.

The Army in the field during this period had no formalized doctrine 

for fighting Indians but adapted to the situation. The common tactic was an 

1 Robert M. Kvasnicka and Herman J. Viola, The Commissioners of Indian Affairs, 

1824–1977 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1979), pp. 4–5.
184 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

offensive strategy that called for a drive into hostile territory against known 

native settlements, forcing the tribe to do battle or lose its food supply. Another 

method was the conduct of a relentless pursuit. Even if unable to catch its prey, 

a unit could, in theory, wear down an Indian force, compelling the Indians to 

leave the area. Defeating the Indians often became a matter of locating their 

camps and attacking them by surprise. This was achieved by adapting the 

standard use of night marches and dawn raids, catching the Indians asleep in 

camp. Experienced commanders also used deception, such as leaving campfires 

burning at night after the troops had moved or hanging back during a pursuit 

to lull the hostiles into a false sense of security.2

The backbone of the Army effort to secure the frontier was the cavalry, 

but it had its limitations. Perhaps the most restrictive was its horses, which 

were generally bigger and stronger than their native prairie counterparts but 

were accustomed to a diet of grain fodder, which required substantial logistic 

support. While on campaign, units generally hauled supplies by wagon trains, 

although some preferred pack mules. The wagons slowed columns down, while 

the mules traversed the rugged terrain with ease but could not carry loads as 

efficiently. Either method was extremely vulnerable to interdiction by the hitand-run raids of the fast-riding Indian warriors. One of the Army’s innovators 

during this period, Maj. Gen. George Crook, a veteran corps commander of the 

Civil War and commander of the Department of Arizona from 1871 to 1875, 

studied the Apache way of war and decided to implement major changes. He 

determined that the best way to fight them was to copy their techniques of rapid 

movement. He instituted the widespread use of mule trains while stripping 

the baggage trains and individual soldiers of excess weight and training his 

soldiers in the techniques of long and mobile campaigns.

In another pivotal development, the Army enlisted Indians into the service 

for six-month tours as scouts. It easily recruited scouts by going to a rival tribe 

that harbored ancient hostilities or to competing factions within the hostile 

tribes who felt that the active renegades constituted a long-term threat to 

future peace and prosperity. These scouts ably tracked even the most elusive 

warrior party and proved invaluable as guides in finding water, provisions, 

and trails. They also served occasionally as couriers and engaged in actual 

combat. Organized into companies of twenty-six men and led by white officers, 

the Indian scouts were attached to a specific command for the duration of a 

campaign, receiving their orders from the senior officer present. Often, these 

companies were fragmented by assigning small squads to various detached 

commands. The Indian scouts earned a reputation for dependability and valor 

throughout the Indian wars. Without their efforts, the defeat of the hostiles 

would have taken far longer and cost many more lives.3

2Andrew J. Birtle, U.S. Army Counterinsurgency and Contingency Operations Doctrine, 

1860–1941 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1998), p. 73. 3 Joseph A. Stout Jr., Apache Lightning: The Last Great Battles of the Ojo Calientes (New 

York: Oxford University Press, 1974), p. 34. George Crook was born on 8 September 1828 
The Victorio Campaign 185

The tribes of the Apache were a tough enemy. The desert afforded little 

means for a sedentary agrarian society, and the Apache had maintained a 

mostly nomadic culture, with an economy and political system based on 

raiding and plundering. Not surprisingly, this kept them at war with their 

neighbors through the centuries. The constant warfare and ability to live in 

the mountains made the Apache renowned for their fighting prowess and an 

astonishing ability to endure pain and hardship. A tight-knit clan, these people 

had a callous disregard for outsiders regardless of the hue of their skin, and 

looked upon them all as essentially something less than human. The tribal 

social hierarchy was structured by a status measured on success in battle and 

how much plunder a warrior acquired in the raids. The great chiefs attained 

and held their power by force of personality backed by their continued success. 

This hold on power was precarious, however, as the ambitious braves, who 

had been taught from early childhood to hunt, track, ride, and fight, vied for 

position and status for themselves.4

A product of this warrior culture, Victorio lived through the events that 

saw his people fall from a great tribe to settlement on reservations. Very little 

is known of his early life, but he was probably born in the Black Mountain 

Range of New Mexico around 1820 and reared as a member of the Eastern 

Chiricahuas, often referred to as the Mimbres Apache. Victorio rapidly rose 

in influence and emerged as a full tribal leader, forming a group of some four 

hundred fanatically devoted warriors. Using the Warm Springs reservation in 

New Mexico as a base of operations, these warriors mercilessly raided their 

enemies, taking what they wanted and destroying what they did not.5 Mexico 

and the United States exchanged mutual protests for failing to stop Apache 

raiders from crossing the border and giving them sanctuary upon their return. 

American settlers also placed immense pressure on their representatives in 

Washington to halt the local Apache raiding and killing.

Victorio received no punishment for his depredations, but public outcry 

grew. Tension on the reservation grew as well, as subdued Apache clans 

feared reprisals for his activities. When Victorio saw an approaching column 

near Dayton, Ohio; graduated from West Point in 1852; and finished the Civil War in command 

of a cavalry division. Although he did not invent the idea of using Indian scouts, Crook made 

full use of them. By 1886, the Indian scouts were issued regulation uniforms with distinctive 

insignia. See also Douglas C. McChristian, “Pueblo Scouts in the Victorio Campaign,” in The 

Military Frontier, A Symposium to Honor Don Russell, Buffalo Bill Historical Center, Cody, 

Wyo., 2–4 May 1986; copy held at Fort Davis National Historic Site. 4 Stout, Apache Lightning, p. 4. American Indian tribes were exceptionally diverse in 

customs, reflecting the regions in which they lived. The Apache were perhaps the extreme of 

the warrior culture. Especially while they were on the warpath, the Apache paid little heed to 

the needs of their animals, reasoning that if they broke down, they would be the next meal, and 

the next target would provide replacements. 5 Ibid., pp. 76–77. Victorio was known by many names in his life, including Victoria, 

Vitoria, Vittorio, Beduiat, Bidu-ya, Lucero, Light, and Laceres. His sister was the famous 

female warrior Lozen. Members of the tribe were fanatically loyal to him.
186 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

of soldiers, he and his followers hastily left the reservation, believing he would 

be tried for old murders and horse stealing and sent to prison or to exile in 

Florida. Preferring death to either, he fled on 21 August 1879 with about eighty 

warriors, along with their wives and children.6

Once off the reservation, Victorio’s band attacked an Army outpost near 

Warm Springs, killing five soldiers and three civilians and making off with 

the sixty-eight horses and mules of Company E, 9th Cavalry (Map 1). A few 

days later, Victorio struck another outpost some twenty miles south of the 

reservation. His band killed ten soldiers and captured all of the livestock. In 

response, the 9th and 10th Cavalry regiments deployed to the field. The Army 

also consolidated additional troops from scattered posts throughout the district 

to meet this threat and brought in Lt. Charles Gatewood and his Apache scouts 

from Arizona. Cavalry detachments, led for the most part by junior officers, 

deployed across New Mexico with orders to find Victorio’s elusive band.7

Victorio’s force varied in size, starting with eighty warriors and growing 

to no more than three hundred warriors at any given time. Including women 

and children, his band never exceeded 450 souls. As Victorio’s success and 

fame grew, young warriors flocked to him or at least emulated him by raiding 

in their own local areas. These scattered incidents inflated Victorio’s actual 

strength and gave observers the impression that he was able to move fantastic 

distances over a short period. When faced with strong opposition, Victorio’s 

band would often split into small groups and cross into the safety of Chihuahua, 

Mexico, before they could be intercepted.

Victorio sustained his operations over several months, primarily by 

acquiring what he needed from his defeated foes. His men took arms and 

ammunition from dead opponents, from mercantile traders, and from Mexican 

sheepherders whom they happened upon and killed. The Apache often rode 

their horses to death, then ate the dead mounts and simply stole more to carry 

on the fight. Since everything Victorio used was readily available, he could 

travel light and fast. The one exception to the rule—and his primary logistical 

concern—was water. In the mountains and desert plains, even the hardy 

Apache could not carry large enough amounts of the essential water. With this 

constraint, Victorio had to plan his operations around the few sources of water 

in the region. The few times the U.S. Cavalry engaged Victorio in open battle 

in the first nine months of his departure from the reservation was usually when 

his band stopped and set up camp around a watering hole. But battles, such 

6Dan L. Thrapp, Victorio and the Mimbres Apache (Norman: Oklahoma University Press, 

1974), pp. 219–20. This book is currently the definitive work on Victorio and the campaign. 

The actual incident that prompted Victorio to leave the Warm Springs reservation varies with 

a wide number of sources. Whatever that incident was, he was not happy there, and it took 

little provocation. 7 Ibid., pp. 236–37; William H. Leckie, The Buffalo Soldiers: A Narrative of the Negro 

Cavalry in the West (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1967), pp. 210–11.
The Victorio Campaign 187

as those at Las Animas and Hembrillo canyons, were indecisive, as Victorio 

eluded his foes and slipped away to Mexico, only to return again.

The Fights at Tinaja de Las Palmas and Rattlesnake Springs

In the summer of 1880, Col. Benjamin Grierson, commanding the 

10th Cavalry regiment, surmised that Victorio meant to reenter the United 

States with the likely objective to head straight for the Mescalero country 

of southern New Mexico in search of supplies and new recruits. Grierson 

strengthened the subposts along the Rio Grande at Viejo Pass, Eagle Springs, 

and old Fort Quitman, which had been abandoned as a permanent post three 

years earlier. Yet concentrating combat power was not enough. It was critical 

Map 1—The Area of Operations, 1879–1880
188 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

to determine Victorio’s location in order to apply it. On 28 July, Grierson 

learned from his scouts, who had crossed the border into Mexico, that Victorio 

was indeed headed north toward the Rio Grande with 150 warriors. Knowing 

the area well, Grierson guessed Victorio would have to stop for water at 

Tinaja de Las Palmas, which was presently unguarded since it held water 

only after a rain and was thus a generally unreliable source. The spotting 

of a lone Apache reconnoitering in the area strengthened this assessment. 

Grierson ordered the companies and detachments from the various posts to 

converge at this key water hole.8

Colonel Grierson’s initial detachment reached Tinaja de Las Palmas at 

the foot of Rocky Ridge and entrenched just short of the crest. He had just 

twenty-three men to hold the three rock redoubts erected to guard the water 

hole. Grierson needed reinforcements and sent two riders at a gallop to bring 

up whatever forces they could find. At 0730, Pueblo Indian scouts reported 

that Victorio had camped in a canyon only ten miles to the south and was 

preparing to move. Time was running out for Grierson and his small band of 

Buffalo soldiers (Map 2).

At 0900 on 30 July, the weary Apache approached the water hole and 

quickly spotted the blue-clad troopers. Victorio sent his men to the east to 

bypass this position, but Grierson would not allow him to get away that easily 

and ordered Lt. Walter Finley to charge forward with ten men. These soldiers 

advanced into a classic ambush—Victorio had deliberately exposed part of 

his force as bait to lure his foe into a killing zone. Finley’s force was out of 

range of support from the small forts and on its own. The Apache took cover 

among the rocks and returned fire in a skirmish that lasted over an hour. They 

presented the soldiers with a grave danger of encirclement and annihilation 

in their advanced position. Desperate, Finley ordered a charge to break the 

Apache siege. Hearing the sound of battle in the mountains some distance away, 

Capt. Charles Viele, with Companies C and G, charged down the road from 

Eagle Springs and joined the fight at this critical time. However, in the smoke 

and dust of battle, they mistook Finley’s detachment for hostiles and opened 

fire, forcing it to withdraw from its advanced positions back to Grierson’s 

troopers covering the water hole. Taking advantage of the confusion, Victorio, 

8Leckie, The Buffalo Soldiers, p. 225; Douglas McChristian, “Grierson’s Fight at Tinaja 

de Las Palmas: An Episode in the Victorio Campaign,” Red River Valley Historical Review 7, 

no. 1 (Winter 1982): 54–59. This fight is also known as the Battle of Rocky Ridge. See also 

Edward L. N. Glass, The History of the Tenth Cavalry: 1866–1921 (Fort Collins, Colo.: Old 

Army Press, 1972), pp. 12–23, for a detailed history of the regiment prior to the campaign. 

Benjamin H. Grierson was born on 8 July 1826 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and was a music 

teacher and storekeeper. During the Civil War, he was a major in the 6th Illinois Cavalry and later 

was promoted to colonel. Grierson pursued Van Dorn after the Holly Springs raid and led his 

own famous raid through Tennessee and Mississippi in June 1863. He was appointed a brigadier 

general and commanded a cavalry division in the Army of the Mississippi. On the frontier, 

he later commanded the Department of Arizona and the Districts of New Mexico and Indian 

Territory. Grierson retired in 1890 and died on 1 September 1911 in Omena, Michigan.
The Victorio Campaign 189

who apparently underestimated the numbers of the force he faced, ordered a 

counterattack. The screaming Apache rose up and rushed forward. Once out 

from behind their cover, Victorio’s men made easy targets, and the cavalry 

stopped the attack in its tracks. A short reprieve followed, but Victorio’s 

braves regrouped and renewed the fight. It took another hour, but Captain 

Viele finally fought his way through to Colonel Grierson. Seeking to avoid 

battle against diminishing odds, Victorio again tried to bypass the cavalrymen 

and head north, but Grierson ordered another detachment forward, which cut 

off the warriors and forced them to turn back.9

9 McChristian, “Grierson’s Fight,” pp. 60–61; Robert K. Grierson, Journal Kept on the 

Victorio Campaign in 1880, p. 24. Copy held at Fort Davis National Historic Site (National 

Park Service), Fort Davis, Texas, and cited with permission. Hereafter cited as Robert’s Journal, 

Map 2—Victorio’s Last Two Raids, Summer 1880
190 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

By 1230, the outnumbered Mimbres broke contact and scattered southward 

toward the Rio Grande and Mexico beyond. The cavalry suffered surprisingly 

light losses: one man killed and one wounded in the four-hour fight. Victorio 

lost approximately seven men killed from his force of about one hundred braves 

and a large number of wounded. This skirmish forced Victorio to retreat, but 

Grierson knew his adversary would soon return. No one realized it at the time, 

but this tactical defeat meant the beginning of the end for Victorio.10

Colonel Grierson would not have to wait long for Victorio’s return. 

The word that Victorio was in motion again arrived in a message from Col. 

Adolpho Valle of the nearby Mexican forces in the final week of July. U.S. 

troopers spotted Victorio’s advance guard, and Grierson ordered his scattered 

detachments to converge on Eagle Springs. A cavalry detachment made brief 

contact with Victorio’s main force on 3 August in a surprise engagement, and 

other patrols confirmed that Victorio and his followers were headed north 

toward the Guadalupe Mountains. Grierson ordered his command in that 

direction in an attempt to block the Apache. He hoped to set up an ambush 

in Bass Canyon, near the town of Van Horn, and amended his orders to his 

scattered companies to converge there.11

On 5 August, Grierson’s 10th Cavalry raced northward some sixty-eight 

miles in twenty-four hours on the east side of the mountains, shielding his 

command from observation, with the objective of reaching the watering hole 

at Rattlesnake Springs, one of but two permanent water sources in the region, 

before Victorio arrived. (The other permanent water hole was located at Sulphur 

Springs, some fifty miles away.) It simply became a race to reach the vital 

source of water first. Interestingly, Grierson countermanded his orders to leave 

the wagons behind. Instead, the cavalry would use the lumbering vehicles as 

far as possible. Although he left no record to explain this decision, it meant 

that Grierson would have a reliable means of supply and would not leave the 

valuable trains vulnerable in the open terrain.

Traversing the desert and mountains for days wore down the cavalrymen 

and their mounts, but Grierson and the advance elements of the 10th Cavalry 

marched another sixty-five miles in under twenty-one hours and reached 

Rattlesnake Springs, arriving just ahead of Victorio. The large quantities of 

forage and water carried by the wagons made this rapid advance possible, a 

rare example of their use actually speeding an advance. After posting his men 

this is a very colorful account of the campaign, in which the young Grierson made daily entries 

while accompanying his father on the campaign. 10 Leckie, The Buffalo Soldiers, p. 225; Rpt, Col B. H. Grierson to Assistant Adjutant 

General, Department of Texas, 20 Sep 1880, doc. G, in Report of the General of the Army, Annual 

Report of the Secretary of War (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1880), vol. 1, 

paras. 16–20. A copy is held by the Fort Davis National Historic Site (National Park Service) 

Fort Davis, Texas. Hereafter cited as Grierson’s Report, this text is used extensively in this 

work in detailing the chronology of the battles of the 10th Cavalry and Grierson’s assessments 

and rationale. See also McChristian, “Grierson’s Fight,” p. 61. 11 Grierson’s Report, vol. 1, paras. 16–20; Robert’s Journal, pp. 32–34.
The Victorio Campaign 191

in the rocks to cover the water source, Grierson awaited reinforcements. Soon 

Captain Carpenter and two more companies joined him and were posted a 

short distance south of the springs in support.

At 1400 on 6 August, the Apache slowly made their way down Rattlesnake 

Canyon toward the springs, quite unaware of the ambush laid for them. They 

too had ridden hard, and both warriors and horses needed water. Victorio was 

tactically off-balance and apparently did not have an advance guard. Just seconds 

before the signal was given to the cavalrymen to commence fire, Victorio sensed 

danger and halted his men. With hostiles in their sights who were about to bolt, 

the troopers did not wait; they opened fire on their own initiative, and under a 

hail of lead the Apache scattered and withdrew out of range.

But Victorio’s people needed water, and, believing there were only a few 

soldiers present, they regrouped and attacked immediately. However, Grierson 

had posted two companies in an overwatch position covering the water, and a 

few massed volleys from their carbines sent the hostiles scattering back into 

the canyon. Stunned by the presence of such a strong force, but in desperate 

need of water, Victorio repeatedly charged the troopers in attempts to secure 

the spring. When the last such attempt failed near nightfall, Victorio and his 

followers withdrew southwest deeper into the mountains. The cavalrymen were 

in hot pursuit, but darkness finally halted Grierson’s men. Victorio was now 

critically short of food and water and facing increasing numbers of soldiers, 

rangers, and armed citizens. His people were hardy but not indestructible. With 

resupply uncertain and faced by such strength, Victorio slipped his band back 

across the border into Mexico to avoid pursuit. His people had lost over thirty 

braves killed and fifty wounded, and almost all their horses.12

The defeat substantially weakened Victorio, and Grierson now had most 

of his command assembled. Giving his enemy no rest, Grierson organized 

his force into three squadrons of two companies each and sent them to comb 

the mountains for signs of the hostiles. He also maintained guards on all of 

the known water sources. Victorio’s braves, women, and children had spent 

a year on the run, and the harsh conditions and deprivation had begun to tell. 

The constant skirmishing with the American and Mexican forces had worn 

down the people and animals. Indian scouts reported that Victorio had crossed 

the border on 12 August, but it was apparent that the numbers of wounded 

warriors and broken-down stock slowed his march. This trail was to be the 

last evidence seen of Victorio in the United States. However, Victorio still 

survived, and while no one could know when he would return, everyone knew 

that the raids and killing would continue as long as he lived.

Victorio and his band crossed the border, but the Mexican forces avoided 

a decisive battle and, in effect, allowed them safe passage. The Apache chief 

holed up in the mountains deep into Mexico. The rugged mountains provided 

safety but held no game and could not support his people for long. Effectively 

12 Thrapp, Victorio and the Mimbres Apache, pp. 238–40.
192 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

blocked from returning to New Mexico, Victorio lead his people southeast 

and farther into Mexico to a mountain range known as Tres Castillos (Three 

Peaks) in the hope of finding a sanctuary. These unimposing mountains were 

essentially no more than three mounds of rock in a vast open desert, with 

little water, sparse grass for the animals, and no means of escape except by 

crossing the open desert once again. Instead of a place of refuge, Victorio had 

found a final trap.

The Mexican forces in pursuit, under the command of Col. Joaquin Terrazas, 

had over 350 men under arms with ample supplies and ammunition. Terrazas’ 

scouts soon found the trails leading to Victorio’s camp, and the Mexican force 

quickly converged on that location and surrounded it on 14 October (Map 3). 

For twenty-four hours, the adversaries waged a bitter and bloody battle among 

the rocks. The Apache were soon almost out of ammunition and were reduced 

to throwing stones. A Tarahumari sharpshooter felled Victorio himself with a 

miraculously long shot, although Apache legend persists that “Old Vic” took 

his own life with his knife to prevent capture.13 When the fight ended, Victorio 

and eighty-six warriors lay dead, and eighty-nine women and children became 

prisoners. The Mexicans held them in Chihuahua City for the next several 

years. Only a handful of warriors escaped, scattering and eventually making 

their way back to the reservations in New Mexico and Arizona.

Victorio’s demise seriously weakened the resistance of the Mimbres Apache. 

The number in any given raider band became generally no more than ten warriors, 

with up to thirty being the rare exception. Forays by notable Apache such as 

Nana and Geronimo were brief and small affairs when compared to the size of 

Victorio’s force and the destruction it had caused. By 1886, the Army had finally 

pacified the Apache, and peace came to the Southwest.

The Final Analysis

The Victorio campaign illustrated how a small band of dedicated and 

hardy people can fight for an extensive time against an overwhelming 

force. By knowing the terrain intimately, Victorio usually stayed one 

step ahead of his pursuers, savagely striking at will and disappearing as a 

phantom into the mountains. As his people could endure extreme hardship 

and Victorio knew the location of the few sources of water, the renegade 

Apache formed a constant and deadly threat to the settlers on both sides 

of the border.

Victorio and his supporters maintained that had the Mimbres Apache 

been allowed to stay at the reservation of their choice, they would have been 

peaceful and content. That may or may not have been true, but the issue 

13 Ibid., pp. 301–04, is a detailed account of the final battle. Various accounts of Victorio’s 

death were told after the fight, including one fanciful version in which he was mounted on 

a fine white horse. Victorio wore no distinctive garments and was probably identified only 

after the battle.
The Victorio Campaign 193

became irrelevant upon their final departure from the reservation. Victorio 

and his band were convinced that there could be no peace with the American 

government, and after a series of murders and stealing, they were absolutely 

correct. The public would not tolerate their simple return to the reservation to 

take up the plow. This left but two outcomes for Victorio: victory or death. 

The inexorable flow of Western civilization across the frontier guaranteed the 

final outcome in the long term. The Apache would adapt to the reservation or 

they would die trying to maintain their old way of life.

Three key elements brought about the defeat of Victorio by the U.S. 

Cavalry. First and foremost was the use of indigenous personnel as trackers 

and guides. The Indian scouts reliably identified Victorio’s whereabouts 

Map 3—Victorio’s End, October 1880
194 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

and predicted his intentions. They also penetrated into Mexico and gathered 

intelligence almost at will. If they were caught by authorities, the U.S. 

government could easily disavow them. Without the Indian scouts, the cavalry 

would have been limited to pursuit operations against a foe that could afford 

to drive its animals to death and then simply steal more to continue on.

The second key element was Colonel Grierson’s decision to forgo offensive 

search-and-destroy operations, which had no telling effect on the enemy’s 

logistics and support, and, instead, to concentrate on the foe’s logistical 

Achilles heel: the need for the few sources of water available in the desert. 

By placing guard forces to cover the few sources of water in his department, 

he denied the enemy a resource essential to successful operations. This new 

tactic forced Victorio to come to a location where the cavalrymen would 

enjoy the advantages of defending among the rocks. Being deprived of water 

and lacking the firepower to take it, Victorio was forced to withdraw in an 

increasingly desperate search for it. Given Grierson’s control over the available 

water sources, Victorio had few choices. Faced by a strong cavalry screen and 

short on water, he returned to Mexico to meet his fate weeks later.

Last, the determination of Grierson to pursue Victorio’s band proved decisive. 

The innovations in the use of pack mules and wagons made this possible. 

Constantly on the run, the Apache found it increasingly difficult to rest and 

regroup. This strategy required Grierson to keep his men in the field and forced 

immense costs in supplies and horses. He also had to contend with an increasingly 

frustrated public and the press. However, over time, patience and arduous efforts 

wore Victorio’s band down to a point that it withdrew to Mexico.

The lessons of the Victorio campaign are as relevant today as they were 

in thenineteenth century. Commanders must understand the enemy’s methods 

of operation and exploit his weaknesses as Grierson did by depriving Victorio 

of essential water. Commanders and staffs must also look beyond their formal 

training in devising flexible tactics and strategy and in preparing their units 

for sustained operations that might last for months. By following these tenets, 

so aptly illustrated in the Victorio campaign, elusive enemies can be tracked, 

worn down, and defeated.
Without the Need of a Single American 

Rifleman: James Van Fleet and His Lessons 

Learned as Commander of the Joint United 

States Military Advisory and Planning Group 

During the Greek Civil War, 1948–1949

Robert M. Mages

Lt. Col. Paul J. Ciesinski was determined to take an active part in America’s 

Global War on Terrorism. Not content with the domestic security tasks 

assigned to his unit in the Connecticut National Guard, Ciesinski transferred 

to the U.S. Army Reserve’s 80th Infantry Division (Institutional Training) and 

volunteered to lead a Military Transition Team (MiTT) assigned to advise a 

brigade of the Iraqi Army. A dedicated patriot and student of military history, 

Ciesinski understood the importance of this mission and looked forward to 

building this new force. Unfortunately, his first challenge “was recovering 

from the ‘poorly planned and insufficient’ predeployment training” he and 

his soldiers received.1 None of the instructors or training cadre charged with 

preparing the MiTT seemed to understand the nature of the task that awaited 

Ciesinski’s men in Iraq. He found the U.S. Army’s failure to provide these 

soldiers with useful doctrine on military assistance and adviser operations the 

most disappointing of all.

We were really astounded by the lack of doctrine. At least in 2005 and into 

2006 there was zero doctrine on how to advise. This astonished me because 

our Army—not just the special operations community—from the early 1960s 

to 1973 advised the South Vietnamese Army. There should have been a lot 

of lessons learned. I couldn’t believe there wasn’t any doctrine. There wasn’t 

anybody around to tell us what an advisor even does. That was one of the 

classes I gave to my subordinates, on what advisors were supposed to do—and 

I based that on historical example and just common sense. There was nobody 

there to tell us what advisors do. The impression I had was, “Just go to Iraq 

and tell them what we think is right.” The Army itself had no doctrine so it 

appeared our trainers didn’t think it was important to train us on that.2

1 Interv with Lt Col Paul Ciesinski, 2007, p. 2, U.S. Army Combat Studies Institute, Fort 

Leavenworth, Kans. 2 Ibid., p. 7.
196 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

This failure of the Army’s institutional memory is puzzling and regrettable. 

The advisory efforts carried out by the United States Army during the Cold 

War have been well documented by Army historians. Anyone charged with 

writing a new doctrine on advising foreign armies will find a rich historical 

record to draw on. As we work to rebuild the forces of our allies in the Middle 

East and central Asia, we must continue to review this record for lessons and 

general principles that we can impart to advisers like Colonel Ciesinski. 

This paper will examine the American advisory effort in support of the 

Greek National Army (GNA) during the Greek Civil War (1947–1949). It 

will place specific emphasis on the actions of the commander of that effort, 

Lt. Gen. James A. Van Fleet, in order to extract general principles that can 

benefit our ongoing attempts to help our allies build effective national armies 

in support of America’s war on terror. 

A Brief History of the American Advisory Effort

Greek nationalist and Communist forces had been locked in a cycle of 

escalating civil strife and bloodshed since the end of World War II. A full-scale 

civil war broke out after a plurality of the Greek people (68.9 percent voted 

for the return of the king) voted by plebiscite in September 1946 to establish 

a constitutional monarchy and a parliamentary democracy.

The Greek Communist Party (KKE) refused to participate in the government. It re-formed its guerrilla forces, rechristened them the Democratic Army 

of Greece (DAG), and established headquarters in the mountains of northern 

Greece on 28 October 1946. This rebel army consisted of approximately 22,000 

insurgents, led by cadres hardened by years of conflict with Axis invaders and 

nationalist forces. Established in mountain strongholds throughout the country, 

the DAG unleashed a vicious guerrilla campaign that pushed the 120,000-man 

Greek National Army back into the towns and cities, cut communications across 

the country, and threatened to overwhelm the weak central government.3

The Soviet Union and Marshal Josip Broz Tito’s Communist regime in 

Yugoslavia supported the KKE. They provided Soviet weapons and equipment 

to the insurgents and allowed the construction of base areas over the border 

in Albania and Yugoslavia. Only Great Britain was willing to stand with 

the Greek government. The British had long been involved in Greek affairs 

and had already fought a round with the insurgents during the winter of 

1944–1945. However, the military and economic exhaustion of postwar Britain 

precluded them from providing the quantity of support needed to sustain the 

Greek government. In desperation, the Greeks turned to the Americans for 

assistance.

3 Edgar O’Balance, The Greek Civil War, 1944–49 (New York: Praeger, 1966), pp. 

111–20.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 197

In March 1947, the Greek government presented the American ambassador 

to Greece, Lincoln MacVeagh, with an urgent request for aid in its struggle to 

overcome a powerful and increasingly dangerous Communist insurgency.4

Help arrived in the form of a bill signed by President Harry S. Truman 

on 22 May 1947, pledging $300 million to the Greek cause and directing that 

an aid mission and military advisers be sent to the country. The Cold War 

had dawned, and the United States found itself engaged in a global conflict 

against the Soviet Union and its hostile, expansionist ideology. In response 

to this threat, the Truman administration developed a strategy to contain and 

combat this menace. In what would become known as the Truman Doctrine, 

the American president declared, “I believe that it must be the policy of the 

United States to support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation 

by armed minorities or by outside pressures.” The Greek Civil War would be 

the first test of this global strategy.5

On 31 December 1947, the Joint Chiefs of Staff directed the creation of 

the Joint United States Military Advisory and Planning Group (JUSMAPG). 

They ordered the group “to assist the Greek Armed Forces in achieving internal 

security in Greece at the earliest possible date.”6 Maj. Gen. William G. Livesay 

commanded the group for the first few months, but he did not fare well. Prior to 

taking his post, General Livesay was told by General Lauris Norstad, director 

of the Plans and Operations Division of the War Department, that his mission 

was to train the Greeks in the proper use of American equipment and that 

matters of overall training and reorganization were the responsibility of the 

Greeks and their British allies.7 He was not empowered to provide operational 

advice to the GNA and soon lost the confidence of many within the Greek 

government. At a meeting with Secretary of State George Marshall, Queen 

Frederica of Greece complained that her country needed “a fighting general,” 

not a “supply sergeant.” This judgment was not altogether fair to Livesay, 

but the queen managed to convince Marshall that he needed replacement. 

After conferring with Army Chief of Staff and General of the Army Dwight 

D. Eisenhower, Marshall selected General Van Fleet as the best candidate to 

take command of JUSMAPG.8

4 John O. Iatrides, MacVeagh Reports, Greece, 1933–1947 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton 

University Press, 1930), pp. 714–20. 5 American Mission for Aid to Greece, A Factual Survey Concerning the American 

Mission for Aid to Greece, American Mission for Aid to Greece, Athens, 1948 (hereafter cited 

as AMAG Survey), p. 18. 6 Joint U.S. Military Advisory and Planning Group, Greece, History of JUSMAPG, 1949, 

Headquarters, JUSMAPG (hereafter cited as JUSMAPG History), p. 2. 7 Maj Gen William G. Livesay, Personal Diary, 13 Jun 47, records his meeting with Gen 

Lauris Norstad and the general guidance provided by the War Department. 8 James A. Van Fleet, “How We Won in Greece,” 11 April 1967, speech to the Institute 

for Research in the Humanities and University Extension, University of Wisconsin, Madison, 

Wisc.
198 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Van Fleet was a graduate of West Point and a thirty-year veteran of the U.S. 

Army. He had seen combat in both world wars and served with distinction in 

the European Theater of Operations (ETO) during World War II. Eisenhower 

directed Van Fleet to report to Marshall. After a brief interview, the secretary 

of state was satisfied that Van Fleet was the correct choice. He was promoted 

to lieutenant general and dispatched to Athens in February 1948.9

The decision was a fortunate one for both Greece and the U.S. Army. 

Van Fleet brought a warrior focus and a sense of urgency to the aid effort and 

the GNA. He was determined to wage an aggressive campaign against the 

insurgents while simultaneously implementing a rapid and comprehensive 

reorganization of the Greek Army. He directed the JUSMAPG to assist the 

Greeks in planning and executing a series of offensive operations designed to 

trap and destroy the insurgents in their mountain bases.10

Under Van Fleet’s guidance, Greek forces worked to clear the areas 

around Athens and force the DAG to withdraw to its mountain sanctuaries 

on the Albanian border. The offensive proceeded slowly and produced an 

indecisive outcome. The GNA followed up these attacks in late June with 

Operation Crown, a three-phase operation designed to destroy DAG forces 

in the Grammos Mountain region. Once again results were mixed. The poor 

operational security and shoddy execution of the GNA allowed the DAG 

to withdraw into Albania and reenter Greece around Mount Vitsi near the 

Yugoslav border. Vowing to give the enemy no rest and determined to destroy 

him before he could strengthen his mountain bastion, the GNA, under the 

direction of the Greek General Staff (GGS) with guidance from JUSMAPG, 

launched a series of attacks in the Vitsi area from August to October of 1948. 

These too achieved disappointing results. The national army failed to dislodge 

the insurgents from their defensive positions, and the fighting dissolved into 

a bitter stalemate. While the DAG emerged from these battles emboldened 

and stronger, they exposed the GNA as a timid and ineffective. The results on 

the battlefield did not seem commensurate with the resources expended, and 

doubts about the aid effort began to grow in Washington and Athens.11

Undeterred, Van Fleet worked throughout the winter to rebuild the GNA, 

using American training methods and weapons. Meanwhile, the KKE decided 

to change tactics. Growing personal and ideological differences provoked 

KKE leader Nikos Zahariadis to depose the Communist military commander 

Markos Vaphiadis and purge the senior ranks of the DAG. Vaphiadis had 

organized the DAG into company- and platoon-size detachments engaged in 

raids, ambush, and sabotage while avoiding direct combat with large GNA 

formations. Zahariadis converted the army into a more conventional force, 

9 R. Manning Ancell with Christine M. Miller, The Biographical Dictionary of World 

War II Generals and Flag Officers; The U.S. Armed Forces (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood 

Press, 1996), p. 330. 10 JUSMAPG History, pp. 14–15. 11 Ibid.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 199

organized into brigades and divisions, prepared to take and hold ground in 

defiance of the national army. In order to boost recruiting in the border areas, he 

also embraced the cause of Macedonian autonomy. Both of these steps would 

have catastrophic consequences. The premature transition to positional warfare 

played into the hands of the reconstituted GNA, and the political shift on the 

Macedonian question infuriated Tito, forcing him to reconsider Yugoslavia’s 

support for the KKE insurgency.12

In late April 1949, the reconstituted GNA began a series of operations 

to clear the insurgents from the mountain areas of central Greece. Instead of 

melting away and withdrawing north, the DAG commanders chose to fight 

it out. Practicing the tactics taught to it by Van Fleet’s advisers and using its 

new American weapons to good effect, the GNA cleared the DAG from these 

regions, opening the avenues of approach to the insurgent base areas along the 

Albanian and Yugoslavian borders. Sensing that the tide of battle had turned 

and piqued over the KKE’s position on Macedonia, Tito closed his border and 

ceased his support for the insurgency.13

Having seized the initiative, Van Fleet and the GGS ordered commencement of the final, decisive offensive. They launched Operation Torch against 

the last Communist strongholds in the Vitsi and Grammos Mountain regions. 

Within a few weeks, the insurgents were routed and the remnants of the DAG 

withdrew into Albania, which disarmed and interned them.14

The victory of the GNA was also a triumph for JUSMAPG and its 

commander. Van Fleet’s success was based upon the application of four basic 

principles:

• Work with and support elements in the indigenous armed forces and 

government that share American goals and objectives.

• Demand accountability.

• Build the indigenous army according to the requirements of the 

conflict. 

• Remember that the war must be waged and won by the indigenous 

army and the government it defends. 

Finding Friends

The political goal of the United States was to “encourage within the 

framework of the Greek Constitution and without direct intervention, the 

maximum unity among the different loyal elements of the Greek political 

world.” The U.S. Embassy considered the Greek Populist-Liberal coalition 

government established in September 1947 and headed by the Liberal Prime 

12 Averoff-Tossizza Evangelos, By Fire and Axe: The Communist Party and the Civil 

War in Greece, 1944–1949, trans. Sarah Arnold Rigos (New York: Caratzas Bros., 1978), pp. 

285–300.

13 O’Balance, The Greek Civil War, pp. 185–95. 14 Ibid.
200 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Minister Themistocles Sophoulis as “an important step in the movement 

towards unity.”15 The embassy staff sought first to preserve, and later build on, 

that fragile unity in the hope that the Communist KKE could be persuaded to 

end the insurgency and embrace the Greek Constitution.16 This strategy often 

caused friction between the embassy staff and JUSMAPG. 

Van Fleet did his best to stay aloof from Greek political infighting, but it soon 

became clear that elements within the Greek government were not altogether 

pleased by American intervention. Even supportive factions disagreed over 

matters of military strategy and with the decisions made regarding the training, 

equipment, and composition of the GNA. Well aware of these currents, Sophoulis 

counseled Van Fleet on how best to avoid Greek political entanglements. 

General please give our Greeks proper weapons and training and develop 

some operations for them and see that they carry them out. I look upon you as 

our savior and will support you in any way you wish, to save Greece. Please 

do not tell the Greek Cabinet what you are doing and, most of all, don’t tell 

the Minister of War your operations. If you tell one Greek, the Greek character is such that he cannot keep a secret and the enemy will learn about the 

operation before morning. Please don’t even tell me!17

The general took this advice to heart and worked with and through those 

members and interests within the Greek government that shared the goals and 

mission of the JUSMAPG.

Van Fleet believed that the insurgency could not be defeated without the 

help of a strong national government united behind a “very stable political 

head” who could “generate a furious love of freedom, a high morale among 

the civilians on the home front as well as within the armed forces . . . at the 

front.” Eschewing the political government, he turned to the constitutional 

head of state for this support. The Greek monarchs, King Paul and Queen 

Frederica, enthusiastically participated in the fight against the insurgents and 

worked diligently to raise the spirit of the Greek people and the GNA. They 

founded charitable foundations and camps to support refugees and regularly 

toured the front and inspected training. Van Fleet embraced the royals and 

frequently accompanied them on their inspections. This relationship also served 

as a semi-official channel of communication and cooperation between the 

supportive elements of the Greek government and Secretary of State Marshall, 

avoiding the often unhelpful views of the American ambassador.18

15 Political Section of the American Embassy Athens, Greece, Political Highlights; Prepared 

for the Use of Visiting Congressional Delegations, 19 Sep 47, American Embassy Athens. 16 Iatrides, MacVeagh Reports, Greece, pp. 714–20. 17 Intervs, Col Bruce H. Williams with General James A. Van Fleet, U.S. Army Military 

History Institute, Senior Officer Debriefing Program, Carlisle Barracks, Pa. (hereafter cited as 

Van Fleet Intervs), vol. 3, p. 16. 18 Ibid., p. 21.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 201

This alliance came at a price. The parties of the political left were hostile 

to the monarchy and saw their relations with General Van Fleet as proof 

the Americans were “colonizing” Athens. This association also frequently 

annoyed the U.S. ambassador, Henry F. Grady. Grady had previously served as 

ambassador to India. He earned a Ph.D. in economics from Columbia and was a 

committed New Deal Democrat and a friend of President Truman. He disliked 

Van Fleet and disagreed with his heavy-handed approach to the Communists. 

Grady urged accommodation and reconciliation over military confrontation.19

Gaining the trust and respect of King Paul and Prime Minister Sophoulis 

allowed Van Fleet to push through an essential reorganization of the Greek 

Armed Forces (GAF). Together they convinced the National Defense Council 

(NDC), a cabinet-level body, to grant command authority over the armed forces 

to General Dimitris Yiatzis, Chief of the Greek General Staff (CGGS). Van 

Fleet exercised great influence over the CGGS and soon became the dominant 

voice on the NDC.20 He had maneuvered into a position of great power, but 

he realized that he had to act judiciously in exercising his prerogatives. He 

later asserted,

I had one great belief—Greece was a sovereign country, and I never imposed 

myself in violation of their sovereign rights. I think that was something that 

helped me greatly, whereas, in many of our policies elsewhere we take a 

superior attitude and assume some of their sovereign rights. This does not 

go well in getting loyal support and cooperation. So, I always respected their 

sovereign rights and would never say, “You must do it this way,” but rather 

when necessary, “Here is a wonderful plan that has been worked out by my 

staff with your staff’s concurrence. We ask that you approve it and we’ll 

execute it together.”21

These relationships, based on shared goals and mutual interests, were 

strengthened by Van Fleet’s willingness to act as an advocate for the Greek 

cause with the representatives of the U.S. government and the War Department. 

Many within the U.S. Embassy and the State Department believed that accommodation and reconciliation could best solve the civil war. They pressured 

the Greek government to adopt many of the reforms demanded by the KKE. 

Ambassador Grady suggested that aid money spent on security should be 

redirected into public works and social projects. Washington was impatient 

and unwilling to increase aid or step up delivery dates. When appropriate, Van 

Fleet aggressively championed the Greek government’s view that security 

19 Ibid., p. 38.

20 Paul F. Braim, The Will to Win: The Life of General James A. Van Fleet (Annapolis, 

Md.: Naval Institute Press, 2001), p. 167. 21 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 26.
202 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

must come first and that the pace of GNA progress was in many ways linked 

to the amount and quality of aid received.22

While British interests paralleled those of the United States, they diverged 

over military and political strategy. Although the War Department had 

directed Van Fleet to cooperate with the British Military Mission to Greece 

(BMM-G), he did not feel under any obligation to either solicit or follow its 

advice. By 1948, the British had lost their power to influence events in Greece, 

and their contributions to the advisory and training effort grew increasingly 

irrelevant. Nevertheless, the BMM-G and the British ambassador sought to 

convince Van Fleet to act in accord with British interests. They insisted that 

U.S. dollars go toward purchasing British weapons and equipment for the 

GNA. They declared that American strategy was flawed and often “violently” 

disagreed with Van Fleet’s operational advice. He ignored these objections. 

The American commander was tactful when dealing with the British, proved 

willing to listen, gratefully accepted whatever practical help the British could 

offer, and carried on.23

Van Fleet functioned as a “general among diplomats” by keeping his 

focus on the mission while using tact and candor to bring along a collection 

of willing allies. On this success he would observe,

If I could offer a bit of advice to an officer of the United States Army who 

has to work with a foreign leader, either military or political, it would be to 

avoid condescension as you would the plague. Define the common interest, 

and let the other party realize for himself how it would be to his advantage 

to work with you.24

Setting the Standard and Demanding Accountability

First, Van Fleet assessed for himself the fighting quality of the GNA. 

He traveled throughout the country observing operations, talking with 

commanders and staff officers, and inspecting soldiers and equipment. What 

he found was not encouraging. The soldiers of the GNA wanted to defeat the 

Communists, but the army was a poorly trained, tired, and aging force with 

obsolete equipment and no uniform fighting doctrine. He determined that the 

army would have to be rebuilt. 

It would take time to develop an effective training plan, order and field new 

weapons, process and train young soldiers, and place them into the depleted 

ranks of the GNA. More time would be required before these improvements 

could make a visible impact in the field. Nevertheless, the War Department 

and the U.S. Army chief of staff demanded to see tangible progress throughout 

1948–1949. In particular, U.S. Army Deputy Chief of Staff General J. 

22 Briam, The Will to Win, p. 172. 23 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 50; Briam, The Will to Win, p. 169. 24 Briam, The Will to Win, p. 166.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 203

Lawton Collins peppered Van Fleet with inquiries regarding the state of 

training and equipment while simultaneously urging that the Greeks take 

immediate offensive action against the DAG.25 The progress report released 

by the American Mission for Aid to Greece (AMAG) in March 1948 heavily 

criticized the GNA and caused a stir in the American media. Van Fleet was 

equally frustrated. He knew that the GNA could not take decisive action until 

it completed his retraining program. 

The insurgents weren’t going to grant the Greek government a truce while 

it reconstructed the national army. The disappointing offensives of 1948, 

beginning with Operation Crown in June and Operation Vitsi in August to 

October, served both to illustrate the glaring flaws of the GNA and cement a 

critical role for the American advisers.26

Van Fleet pushed adviser teams down to the division level, and they 

remained with their assigned Greek units at all times, sharing their hazards 

and hardships. Each Greek division commander and primary staff officer had 

an American counterpart. Each adviser team submitted required weekly and 

monthly status reports detailing the training activities and combat operations 

undertaken by the assigned unit. These reports allowed JUSMAPG to stay 

abreast of all developments within the GNA and maintain an accurate tactical 

and operational assessment of the conflict. With this information and the 

firsthand knowledge gained from numerous trips around the country, Van 

Fleet knew more about GNA conditions and operations than the Greek chief 

of staff. He used this to his advantage when he shared his critical assessments 

with his counterparts in the Greek Army and the government.27

Van Fleet held his advisers responsible for the poor performance of their 

counterparts in spite of the acknowledged weakness of GNA leadership. 

Officers and men of the JUSMAPG did not receive this criticism well. They 

tactfully reminded the general that they did not have command authority 

over these units, and that in many cases their counterparts had more combat 

experience. Col. Everett D. Peddicord, adviser to A Corps, said it best: “When 

the corps commander asked for advice I gave it. Otherwise, I kept quiet. That 

Greek general knew 10-times more about mountain fighting than I could ever 

dream of knowing.”28 Most of these men supposed that their job was to provide 

advice and ensure that American materiel arrived in sufficient quantity and was 

properly utilized. Van Fleet did not share this view. He expected his advisers 

to do anything and everything, short of taking part in actual combat, to help 

their units succeed. As a result, American advisers began skirting dangerously 

close to full combatant status. In a few instances, they actually took temporary 

command of Greek units during moments of great crisis. This clearly violated 

25 Ibid., p. 172.

26 JUSMAPG History, pp. 15–16. 27 Briam, The Will to Win, pp. 193–97. 28 David Colley, “Hot Spots in the Cold War; American Advisors in Greece 1947–49,” 

VFW Magazine (May 1997): 36–38.
204 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

orders, but Van Fleet either turned a blind eye or imposed token wrist slaps on 

officers caught making this mistake on a slow news day. Van Fleet expected 

his advisers to take a proprietary interest in the success or failure of their 

counterparts, and his men got the message. 

The general made accountability an important component of his model of 

army building. He communicated American displeasure directly and forcefully 

to the Greek General Staff. Van Fleet gave voice to the frustration he felt over 

the disappointing results of Operation Vitsi through a letter prepared for him 

by JUSMAPG Deputy Commander Maj. Gen. Reuben Jenkins:

In all three recent large-scale [enemy] attacks, information on the strength, 

location, composition and movements of the guerrilla forces was well known 

by the commanders in the field; yet no offensive action was taken to destroy 

or seize the initiative from these bandit groups before they struck. . . . 

The mission of the Greek Army, as stressed many times in GGS orders, is 

to pursue and destroy the bandits in Greece and reestablish internal security. 

The apparent unwillingness of many commanders to accept and understand 

this basic mission and its clear implications is responsible for the failure of 

the Greek Army to take aggressive offensive action against bandit groups, 

pursue them, and destroy them wherever they may be. 

Practically all commanders invariably plead unfavorable weather, forbidding terrain, inadequate strength and serious dangers to vital areas, as 

a defense for their inertia and failures. Yet, the inferior bandits continue to 

operate in the same weather, and over the same terrain as must the Greek 

Army, with high success, in complete defiance of, and with bold indifference 

to, a greatly superior, better fed, better clothed, better organized and better 

equipped Greek Army. This is a definite reflection upon the quality of Greek 

Army leadership in the field.29

The inadequate performance of the GNA did not go unnoticed by American 

civil leadership in Athens and Washington. Ambassador Grady speculated 

that the GNA deliberately held back on its efforts to defeat the insurgency 

in order to coax more aid dollars from the United States.30 President Truman 

admitted to Congress that the war in Greece had not advanced beyond the point 

of military stalemate, “despite the delivery of $170,000,000 of United States 

arms supplies and the advice of a United States military mission.”31

Van Fleet made it clear to the Greeks that U.S. aid was conditional and 

ephemeral. If the GNA could not demonstrate a willingness to take the fight 

to the Communists, that aid would end. They were all accountable to the 

American taxpayers and their elected representatives. He urged the Greek 

General Staff to relieve senior commanders who had underperformed during the 

29 Briam, The Will to Win, p. 205. 30 “Scant Results from U.S. Aid to the Greeks,” U.S. News & World Report, 29 Oct 48, 

p. 24.31 “Truman Reports Greek Stalemate,” New York Times, 7 Dec 48.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 205

1948 offensives. Action came fast. Van Fleet had several senior commanders 

relieved and persuaded General Yatsis, chief of staff of the Greek Armed 

Forces, to retire.32

On 21 January 1949, the Greek government appointed General Alexander 

Papagos commander-in-chief of the GNA. Papagos was a national hero 

and veteran of the 1940–1941 Albanian Campaign against Fascist Italy. An 

aggressive and competent commander, he was the preferred choice of both 

the king of Greece and Van Fleet. This change at the top had a significant, 

positive impact on the fighting abilities of the GNA. As the official history of 

the advisory group states,

This was a very important change in the Greek High Command, for it influenced decisively all future GAF activities. By enforcing much needed 

discipline in the senior ranks of the Army, by eliminating incompetent and 

insubordinate officers, by stressing mobility and aggressiveness, and by insisting that units constitute reserves and wholeheartedly accept the JUSMAPGsponsored training program, General Papagos initiated accomplishment of 

many of the aims which JUSMAPG had long advocated.33

While disagreements would remain regarding the size of the GNA and 

the amount of funding required, the Greeks had come to realize that the 

Americans had limited patience and would make continuing aid contingent 

on positive results.

Rebuilding the Greek National Army

Van Fleet was determined to rebuild, retrain, and reequip the Greek 

National Army according to the unique requirements of the conflict.

The first step in this process was to refresh the ranks of the GNA with 

younger, loyal, and more capable recruits. Naturally, some of the soldiers 

inducted into the army sympathized with the Communist cause. The Greeks, 

of course, knew this, and they implemented a program to weed out politically 

undesirable recruits at the induction stations. Conscripts determined to be 

politically unreliable were sent to training and labor battalions on the Island of 

Makronisos, where they underwent political indoctrination and received basic 

military training. Opinions are mixed on whether this measure was successful. 

There are a few accounts of the king and queen visiting these camps and being 

carried around the perimeter in triumph on the shoulders of the inmates. Others 

maintain that these were little more than internment camps. It is never pleasant 

to be deprived of your liberty or forcibly separated from loved ones, but the 

men appear to have been decently treated. Van Fleet believed these camps 

were required to break up Communist intelligence cells and dry up the pool 

32 Briam, The Will to Win, pp. 188–89. 33 JUSMAPG History, p. 23.
206 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

of potential DAG recruits. To boost soldier morale, Van Fleet encouraged 

the GNA to establish a postal service so the men could keep in contact with 

their families. This news from home had the added benefit of countering 

Communist propaganda that claimed the civilian population was starving and 

suffering great privations to support a war of American imperialism. Older 

soldiers were retired from active service or placed in reserve formations and 

replaced with fit, fresh young men. Perhaps most important, Van Fleet pushed 

the Greek government to build a national army composed of citizen-soldiers 

committed to the cause of a free and democratic Greece. He also made clear 

the need to fill the ranks with intelligent, educated soldiers capable of using 

and maintaining the new American weapons and equipment pouring into the 

country. Three classes of fifteen thousand soldiers each were cycled through 

an intense, six-week basic training program and posted to the ranks of the field 

divisions in the winter of 1948.34

JUSMAPG developed an intense, battle-focused training program that 

emphasized fundamental soldier skills and culminated in company- and 

battalion-level exercises. Unit training emphasized close cooperation among 

infantry, field artillery, and close air support. Much of the training was 

conducted with live ammunition. U.S. and Greek instructors taught GNA 

soldiers to use indirect fire to suppress bunkers and defensive positions and to 

advance and attack directly behind this fire. Soldiers maneuvered on training 

ranges where they were required to engage targets to their flanks and rear with 

direct fire. Van Fleet knew that the Greek government was willing to accept the 

inevitable accidents and casualties that resulted from this type of aggressive 

training. He later recounted, “Their training was even better than we dare 

give American troops. We could work them from dawn to sunset six days a 

week.”35 The program emphasized night movement and aggressive patrolling 

techniques at the platoon and company level. Newly raised demonstration 

platoons provided examples of these techniques to units in the field. The 

training placed an emphasis on aggressive action and the need to demand 

results up and down the chain of command.36 In his written report to General 

Papagos, Van Fleet wrote,

Every day of free time must be devoted to training. Commanders must not 

be satisfied with mediocre results; they must demand and receive the best. In 

combat they must be prepared to pursue relentlessly day and night, regardless 

of local boundaries. They must have, and must instill in their commands, the 

will and burning desire to close with the enemy at all times.37

34 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 20.

35 James A. Van Fleet, “25 Divisions for the Cost of One,” Reader’s Digest, 1954, p. 3. 36 Briam, The Will to Win, pp. 183–85. 37 Ibid., p. 191.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 207

The primary problem remained an unwillingness or inability to close with 

and destroy the insurgents. He sought to overcome this deficiency by instilling 

aggressive leadership through hard training and by the judicious purchase 

of critical weapons and equipment. Van Fleet was confident that the combat 

performance of the army would improve as a result of these measures, but he 

maintained realistic expectations. This focus on fundamentals brought him 

into conflict with members of the joint group who pressed for the adoption 

of more modern and expensive equipment and techniques. The best example 

of this was the proposal by JUSMAPG Air Force Chief General Metheny to 

purchase large numbers of helicopters and form air mobile units capable of 

landing in the remote and rugged mountain areas where the guerrillas built 

their base camps. Van Fleet thought the scheme absurd and stated,

General, it isn’t getting the army up there; they can march up there just as 

quickly by starting near the base of the nearest location and climbing the 

mountain on foot with mule supply. The job is to get them to move out 

promptly after they get there. We would have the same problem whether we 

were carried there on foot or by helicopter.38

This was a source of great frustration to Van Fleet. He preferred that his 

senior airman focus on improving cooperation between close air support assets 

and ground units, but Metheny continued to push his air assault scheme. In 

the end, Van Fleet fired him and bought pack animals instead. JUSMAPG 

requested P–51 fighter-bombers to provide close air support for the resurgent 

Greek Army, and Van Fleet was furious when these planes were sent to Turkey 

instead. The Greeks got SB2C Helldivers. Van Fleet grumbled, but he made 

do with the means provided.39

He expended the limited military credits available on weapons that would 

help the infantry overcome the strong pillboxes and fieldworks that had 

consistently stymied the squads and platoons of the Greek Army. The obsolete 

field guns of the GNA could not adequately suppress the reverse slope defense 

favored by the DAG. The Greeks needed pack howitzers, rocket launchers, 

and recoilless rifles. Van Fleet pushed hard to get them from a stingy and 

skeptical War Department.40

The British had provided the GNA with sound counterinsurgency 

doctrine, but the officers of the Greek Army did not internalize or follow it. 

The preferred technique was to approach the insurgent positions, move into 

blocking positions, and then attempt to annihilate them with indirect fire. 

Local commanders often demonstrated the obnoxious and often disruptive 

habits of quarreling with superiors or refusing to obey orders they disagreed 

38 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 44.

39 Ibid., pp. 45–46. 40 Briam, The Will to Win, pp. 209–10.
208 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

with. Van Fleet attributed this to the British military culture that dominated 

the Greek officer corps:

They had a British system of giving orders. . . . For example, should a (unit) 

commander . . . not like the order received, he does not have to obey it promptly. 

He can appeal to the next higher command. If the higher commander approves 

the original order then he has to carry it out. Or, should his own commander 

give it to him a second time in writing, he is obliged to carry it out. That slows 

down the execution of orders—and in chasing guerrillas or trying to surround 

them in a mountainous area and move in. You can’t have such a system of 

command. You drag your feet and the enemy gets away.41

This and other factors combined to make the GNA slow moving and 

tactically timid. JUSMAPG advisers at every level sought to overcome this 

lethargy by preaching the “5 F’s: Find—Fend—Fix—Fight—Finish.”42 Van 

Fleet insisted that the army move at night and during periods of limited 

visibility. The Americans advised the Greeks to move their best troops, under 

cover of darkness, into blocking positions astride the insurgents’ route of escape 

and launch dawn attacks with units of lesser quality to drive the insurgents 

from their positions and into prepared ambushes. Van Fleet urged the Greek 

commanders to press the attack in the winter and through inclement weather 

and reminded them that as the better equipped, fed, and trained force, they had 

an advantage over the semi-starved and shivering insurgents. The Americans 

stressed junior leader initiative, aggressive pursuit, and combined arms to their 

counterparts. Van Fleet’s men did not convert everyone, but they did manage 

to convince the Greeks to take the fight to their enemy in a way they had not 

done before. By summer 1949, JUSMAPG reported that

The Greek armed forces retained the initiative over widespread areas. DAG 

tactics when confronted with any force were generally those of dispersal, 

evasion, defense and withdrawal. GNA pursuit in offensive areas kept these 

groups unsettled and moving.43

The rebuilt Greek Army was far from perfect, but it was capable enough to 

take advantage of the mistakes made by the DAG and defeat it in open battle 

in the remote mountains of northern Greece.

Making It “Their War”

The United States government believed it had important national security 

interests in Greece, but few regarded the stakes as high enough to warrant the 

41 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 12.

42 Van Fleet, “How We Won in Greece.”

43 JUSMAPG History, p. 24.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 209

introduction of American combat troops. JUSMAPG directed that advisers 

would not carry weapons or engage in combat.44 They were not to assume 

command of Greek troops or engage in political activities. As far as Washington 

was concerned, this was a civil war, an internal conflict that would be won or 

lost by the Sophoulis regime.45

The Greeks saw things differently. Most of their military and political 

leaders thought of the war as part of the larger conflict between the United 

States and the Soviet Union, and American threats and reluctance to provide 

additional aid often puzzled and outraged them. Many Greek citizens believed 

they were little more than American pawns being ground up in a conflict 

between the two superpowers.46

Van Fleet thought that both sides were correct. He agreed with his Greek 

counterparts that they faced an attempt by the Soviets to conquer Greece 

through the instigation and support of an insurgency against the legitimate 

government. He also held that it was the responsibility of the Greeks to defeat 

this threat to their liberty.47 The DAG certainly received supplies and sanctuary 

from sympathetic allies in Yugoslavia and elsewhere, but the fact remained 

that the insurgents were their fellow countrymen and women. On the American 

role, Van Fleet explained, 

We are here to administer material assistance in an advisory capacity only. 

We do not command or fill any executive positions. The decisions and the 

performance of the [Greek Armed Forces] are entirely Greek matters.48

It was imperative for the Greek government to break the Communists’ 

hold over the rural population and eradicate, or at least cripple, their urban 

espionage and support cells. The operational success of the GNA depended 

on it. Van Fleet knew that this could only be accomplished by the Greeks 

themselves. The gendarmerie made use of mass arrests and preventive 

detentions to weed out DAG sympathizers and collaborators. Greek internal 

security forces, accountable to the population and operating under Greek civil 

law, interrogated and punished leaders. These measures were certainly harsh, 

but Van Fleet believed they were justified under the circumstances. This is not 

to say that he countenanced violations of the Geneva Convention or approved 

of the mistreatment of prisoners, but he saw a distinction between an insurgent 

under arms in the field and a terrorist informant. These tactics did not pass 

unnoticed by the American press or the U.S. Embassy, and displeasure with 

these actions often caused friction between Van Fleet and the ambassador. 

44 JUSMAPG, Duties of JUSMAPG Personnel in the Field, 29 Apr 48, Athens.

45 JUSMAPG, Memo on the Organization and Functions of JUSMAPG, 22 Apr 48, 

Athens. 46 “War Risks in Greek-Aid Plans,” U.S. News & World Report, 5 Mar 48, pp. 30–31. 47 Van Fleet, “How We Won in Greece.”

48 “Van Fleet Defines Threat to Greece,” New York Times, 29 Nov 48.
210 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Nevertheless, the JUSMAPG commander steadfastly supported these measures 

because he saw them as the most timely and effective way to neutralize the 

Communist intelligence network.49

Van Fleet’s plan to rebuild the citizen militias also generated controversy. 

At the start of the conflict, the Greek government created ad hoc groups of 

armed citizens to provide local security in the small villages that dotted the 

mountains and valleys of the country. These formations were equipped with 

captured German and Italian small arms and controlled by local officials. 

These militias had failed to prevent insurgent raids, and many of the weapons 

provided ended up in the hands of the Communists. The inability of the local 

population to defend their own homes and villages meant that the GNA had 

to provide garrisons to augment the overstretched gendarmerie. Frightened 

and largely defenseless civilians fled the countryside, flocking to the larger 

towns and refugee camps. This damaged the agrarian economy and the social 

fabric of the country. 

However, Van Fleet believed that the loyal citizens of Greece would take 

up arms to protect their homes and property. He ordered that these militias 

be rebuilt as Home Guard detachments. The Greek government equipped 

the militia with British small arms, made surplus and obsolete by the arrival 

of new American weapons, and placed them under the strict control and 

supervision of the GNA. According to the official history of the JUSMAPG, 

this measure “contributed materially to the economic recovery of the country 

as large numbers of refugees left the government dole and entered productive 

fields.” This step also brought a substantial part of the rural population over 

to the side of the government, making it more difficult for the insurgents to 

intimidate and exploit them.50

Unlike the British, who had been involved in Greek affairs since the 

early nineteenth century, the United States had few interests in the eastern 

Mediterranean prior to World War II. The JUSMAPG lacked the detailed 

knowledge of the region and the assets required to collect the vital intelligence 

data necessary to defeat the insurgents. The Americans relied on the Greeks 

to do the majority of intelligence collection. Van Fleet explained,

You cannot do anything without intelligence. You must know where the 

enemy is; his possible intentions. You have to invade his unit with a spy or 

spies and have that information brought back. . . . The Greeks are very good 

(intelligence) people. They had many agents all over the Balkans. . . . They 

had good information as to what was going on in these countries in support 

of the communist guerrillas; such as hospitals, training grounds, supply 

elements, rest areas and the like. . . . They had their own people scattered 

49 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, pp. 49–52. 50 JUSMAPG History, pp. 11–13.
Without the Need of a Single American Rifleman 211

around in the towns, cities and villages of Greece. . . . The Greeks have a 

way of getting information.51

The JUSMAPG staff provided assistance in the analysis and effective use 

of this intelligence, but Van Fleet left the difficult and potentially compromising 

job of collection to the Greeks themselves.

Defeating the Communist insurgency was a Greek responsibility, and Van 

Fleet never wasted an opportunity to remind them of this fact. He appealed to 

their sense of pride and national honor. While inspecting Greek soldiers in the 

field, he would stand before the ranks, turn to his entourage, and say, 

I wish that you would look closely at this Greek soldier, for he is a member 

of one of the bravest and most distinguished armies of the entire Free World. 

He is a patriot fighting for the freedom of his country, and I am proud to be 

associated with him in this cause. . . . I am proud to be helping an army that 

is fighting the communists on its own, helped only by American military 

equipment.52

Conclusion

The American mission to Greece did not achieve all of its objectives. 

However, it did achieve its primary goal of assisting Greece to “preserve its 

independence.”53 Much of the credit for this must go to James Van Fleet and 

the men of the JUSMAPG. In Van Fleet’s own words,

Our initial $300,000,000 investment, made in 1947, has paid off magnificently. . . . Greece was saved for little more than the cost of a single American 

division. Yet not one American infantryman had ever fired a shot on Greek 

soil.54

He believed that the American approach in Greece was certain to work 

elsewhere around the world and urged that it become a cornerstone of 

America’s strategy to defeat the Soviet Union. He advocated that the Army 

construct “packages” of equipment and advisers specially configured for 

individual nations under threat and “dot the iron curtain” with them, providing 

threatened allies with the means to fight for their own freedom:

We cannot furnish the world with American ground armies. If we try, it will 

drain us of manpower and throw us into bankruptcy without ever firing a 

shot, which is what the Soviets want. . . . We should stand ready, when the 

communists poke into a soft spot, to provide these native divisions, defending 

51 Van Fleet Intervs, vol. 3, p. 21.

52 Briam, The Will to Win, p. 191. 53 AMAG Survey, p. 2.

54 Van Fleet, “25 Divisions for the Cost of One,” p. 10.
212 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

their native land, with the munitions of war they will need but cannot make 

for themselves.55

Van Fleet firmly believed in the Truman Doctrine. The experience in 

Greece, combined with his successful effort in rebuilding the army of the 

Republic of Korea during the Korean War, convinced him that helping to raise, 

equip, and train the forces of friendly governments under threat of invasion 

or subversion should become a core competency of the U.S. Army. Perhaps 

it is time for us to reconsider this assertion.

55 Ibid.
Chasing a Chameleon: The U.S. Army 

Counterinsurgency Experience in Korea,

1945–1952

Mark J. Reardon

In his widely read book, On Strategy: A Critical Analysis of the Vietnam 

War, Col. Harry G. Summers Jr. argues, “We failed in Vietnam because we 

attempted to do too much. Instead of concentrating our efforts on repelling 

external aggression as we had done in Korea we also took upon ourselves the 

task of nation building.”1 Not everyone, however, supported that particular 

postmortem assessment. Air Force Col. Kenneth J. Alnwick believed Vietnam 

had been “essentially unwinnable” because “the Saigon government, a creature 

of the United States, consistently demonstrated its inability to resolve its 

internal contradictions, to govern South Vietnam, and simultaneously to 

prosecute a protracted war against a dedicated, determined, enemy.”2 Indeed, 

Colonel Alnwick suggests that American preoccupation with conventional 

combat, rather than strengthening the Saigon government, contributed to 

eventual defeat. 

Summers felt extremely comfortable with citing Korea as an example for 

fellow Army officers to heed. After all, he served in the 6th Infantry Division 

in Korea during 1947–1948 and later fought there with the 24th Infantry 

Division. Perhaps because he lacked comparable Korean experience, Alnwick 

did not contest Summers’ assertion that American ground forces focused on 

conventional combat during that conflict. Additional research by Alnwick, 

however, would have disclosed that the U.S. Army’s role in Korea was not 

confined to conventional combat operations. 

American involvement began almost five years before the Communist 

invasion orchestrated by Kim Il Sung, when Emperor Hirohito’s acceptance 

of Allied demands for unconditional surrender on 15 August 1945 stunned 

Japanese military personnel and civil servants in Korea. The quarter-millionstrong Japanese garrison on the peninsula had not been defeated in battle. 

Indeed, few, if any, had ever seen an American. With the exception of several 

small-scale carrier raids, the Pacific War bypassed Korea. 

1 Harry G. Summers Jr., On Strategy: A Critical Analysis of the Vietnam War (Novato, 

Calif.: Presidio Press, 1982), p. 171. 2Kenneth J. Alnwick, “Strategic Choice, National Will, and the Vietnam Experience,” Air 

University Review 34, no. 2 (January–February 1983): 136.
214 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

The Korean people, who had endured decades of harsh rule, were overjoyed 

at the news. The Japanese initially “established their hegemony over Korea 

via the Treaty of Shimonoseki and dictated to the Korean government a wideranging series of measures to prevent further domestic disturbances” following 

the Sino-Japanese War in 1894.3 The Russo-Japanese conflict of 1904–1905, 

which ended in Russia’s defeat, led to Japan’s complete annexation of Korea 

on 22 August 1910. 

Although grateful for American sacrifices that restored their freedom in 

1945, virtually every Korean desired immediate and full independence. Within 

hours of the emperor’s announcement, they began holding mass meetings 

and parades. Communist-backed political groups, having received significant 

material and financial assistance from the Soviets over the past two decades, 

were particularly in evidence.4 Celebration gave way to rioting and looting, 

which triggered a ruthless response by the Japanese. 

The American occupation force, consisting of XXIV Army Corps led by 

Lt. Gen. John R. Hodge, did not land at Inch’on until 8 September.5 With most 

specialized civil affairs units earmarked for Japan, Hodge had converted the 

Tenth Army Antiaircraft Artillery headquarters into a military government 

staff.6 The commanding general of the 7th Infantry Division, Maj. Gen. 

Archibald Arnold, served as the first American military governor of Korea in 

addition to his regular duties.7

The Allied powers were reluctant to immediately address the question of 

Korean independence. A wartime agreement bisecting the peninsula at the 38th 

Parallel played no small part in complicating matters. The Russians occupied 

the peninsula north of the dividing line, while the Americans occupied the 

south. Neither superpower wanted an independent Korea to fall within the 

sphere of influence of its former ally turned postwar ideological adversary. 

While the Russians and Americans jockeyed for strategic advantage, a similar 

contest began in southern Korea between the leftist People’s Republic Party 

and the right-wing Democratic Party. 

With Hodge’s troops spread thinly across the southern half of the peninsula, 

establishment of an indigenous security force became one of the top American 

priorities. In a 23 September 1945 report, the XXIV Corps provost marshal, 

Brig. Gen. Lawrence E. Schick, proposed the creation of a Korean Political 

3 HQ, Department of the Army Pamphlet 550–41, South Korea: A Country Study

(Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1992), p. 14. 4 Daniel R. Shea, “An Analysis of the United States Leadership’s Effective Employment 

of the Republic of Korea Armed Forces, July 1950–June 1951” (Master’s thesis, U.S. Army 

Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kans., 2001), p. 17. 5History of the United States Army Forces in Korea, vol. 1, ch. 1, p. 6, Historical Reference 

Collection, U.S. Army Center of Military History (CMH), hereafter cited as Army Forces in 

Korea. 6 Ibid., p. 27. The 6th Division replaced the 96th Division on 23 September 1945.

7 Shea, “An Analysis of the United States Leadership’s Effective Employment of the 

Republic of Korea Armed Forces,” p. 20.
Chasing a Chameleon 215

Affairs Department (as it was then called) consisting of administrative, finance, 

criminal investigation, clothing and supply departments, and a training school.8

The organization was later renamed the Korean National Police.

The military government’s efforts to create an indigenous internal security 

force produced unforeseen results. The Americans initially recruited former 

Korean members of the Japanese Army and the colonial police.9 As one 

American explained, “A Korean peasant police recruit, living in an ox-cart 

society, knew only Japanese police methods. He was brought up in the belief 

that there was no government without terror, that a prisoner was guilty until 

proven innocent, and that torture should precede the examination of witnesses 

to insure that only the truth would be told.”10 Efforts to teach democratic ideals 

and individual rights to the National Police were hampered by a chronic lack 

of American supervisors and instructors.

Projected food shortages forced the military government to impose a highly 

unpopular rice collection program in December 1945. The Americans made the 

newly created National Police responsible for collecting rice from farmers and 

delivering it to central storage sites. The collection effort met with widespread 

protests, which produced violent responses by Korean police. The unpopularity 

of the police increased when the American Military Government, following 

orders issued by General Douglas MacArthur’s headquarters in Tokyo, ordered 

them to recover Japanese property confiscated by Korean civilians. 

Ongoing problems with the National Police, compounded by growing 

American suspicion of Soviet aims, prompted General Hodge to reorganize 

and expand South Korean security forces. Armed with broad guidance from 

Hodge, a board of American officers chaired by General Schick met on 10 

November to devise a draft plan. Schick subsequently presented Hodge with 

a proposal for an Army and Air Force of 45,000, a Coast Guard of 5,000, and 

a National Police Force of 25,000.11 Accepting the majority of the board’s 

recommendations, Hodge appointed Schick as the first director of national 

defense for Korea on 13 November. 

American plans for creating the South Korean Army gained momentum 

as widespread rioting broke out in Namwon on 15 November. The protests 

began when police ordered locals to return stolen Japanese property. The 

citizens refused, and the police arrested several of them. The arrests ignited a 

wave of violence directed at the police, who called for American assistance. 

When U.S. troops arrived, they were confronted by an unruly crowd of one 

thousand rioters. The Americans fired a volley into the air before dispersing 

8 Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 1D, p. 8.

9 Ibid., p. 9.

10 Ibid., p. 41.

11 Richard P. Weinert, The U.S. Army and Military Assistance in Korea Since 1951, OCMH 

Manuscript 104-M, n.d., p. 7, Historical Reference Collection, CMH.
216 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

the mob with leveled bayonets. The ensuing melee killed or injured a number 

of Koreans, including one policeman stabbed to death.12

The events at Namwon reflected a growing dissatisfaction with the National 

Police and undiminished Korean desire for immediate and complete self-rule. 

Korean nationalists expressed that belief so frequently and vehemently that 

General Hodge reported to MacArthur on 16 December,

Under present conditions with no corrective action forthcoming, I would 

go so far to recommend we give serious consideration to an agreement with 

Russia that both U.S. and Russia withdraw forces from Korea simultaneously and leave Korea to its own devices and an internal upheaval for its 

self purification.13

The first tentative steps toward Korean self-rule began when the United 

States and the Soviet Union convened a joint commission in December 

1945. Talks on the peninsula’s political future, which did not begin until 

March 1946, ended two months later. The negotiations broke down when the 

Russians refused to withdraw their proposal to limit future membership in a 

Korean provisional government to political parties that accepted trusteeship 

prior to full independence. Since every right-wing political party rejected 

trusteeship, the Russian initiative would have created a Communist-dominated political system. 

The stalled talks had a significant impact on Hodge’s initial plan to 

improve internal security in South Korea. Concerned about possible Russian 

protests, the State Department asked Hodge to postpone creation of a South 

Korean Army. Rather than suspend his efforts, Hodge restructured the army 

as a police reserve (National Constabulary) and reduced its size to 25,000.14

The constabulary’s primary mission would be to support local police in a 

time of disorder or emergency, whenever the military governor or his Korean 

counterpart called for such aid.15

Hodge forwarded the revised plan to Washington, where the Joint Chiefs 

of Staff approved it in January 1946.16 Hodge immediately transferred eighteen 

lieutenants from the military government to serve as the initial contingent of 

administrators and trainers. The Americans also supplied the constabulary with 

12 Bryan Robert Gibby, “Fighting in a Korean War: The American Advisory Missions from 

1946–1953” (Ph.D. diss., State University of Ohio; Ann Arbor, Mich.: University Microfilms, 

2004), p. 30. 13 Shea, “An Analysis of the United States Leadership’s Effective Employment of the 

Republic of Korea Armed Forces,” p. 21. 14 Ibid., p. 31. 

15 Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 1A, p. 69.

16 Gibby, “Fighting in a Korean War: The American Advisory Missions from 1946–1953,” 

p. 33.
Chasing a Chameleon 217

Japanese arms and equipment. No plans were made to provide it with heavy 

weapons such as tanks and artillery.17

Recruiting the constabulary’s leadership constituted the first priority for 

the Americans. The military government invited representatives of militia 

groups and selected individuals to a meeting held at the Old Capital Building 

in Seoul. They were greeted by Col. Reamer W. Argo, who encouraged them 

to join the constabulary as commissioned officers. Many attendees agreed to 

join upon learning that the Americans prized past military experience, even 

under Japanese tutelage, over current political affiliation. 

The recruiting of enlisted personnel proved more difficult. American 

advisers noticed that little popular sentiment existed for an indigenous 

army.18 Inadequate incentives had created a perception among Koreans that 

service in the ranks offered low pay and benefits. By the end of April 1946, 

the constabulary numbered but two thousand officers and men.19 However, 

recruiting improved during the following month when the National Police 

started rounding up hundreds of Communist activists.20

The changing fortunes of enlisted recruiting reflected the growing political 

extremism in Korea. The members of the Korean National Police, most of 

whom possessed right-wing sympathies, played a large part in creating this 

environment. Police officers arrested leftists while openly shielding right-wing 

groups from retaliation. As political violence increased, the American Military 

Government noted, “It seemed that any political figure who cut loose from the 

Extreme Rightist and Extreme Leftist camp and attempted to steer a middle 

course simply committed political suicide.”21

The suspension of Soviet-U.S. talks in May 1946, combined with the 

departure of the 40th Division, persuaded left-wing Korean groups to adopt 

a strategy calling for “an all-out attempt to discredit the American effort, to 

sabotage Military Government, and to build up hatred against the Americans.”22

The American Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC) responded by redoubling 

efforts to penetrate and disrupt Korean extremist groups. A raid in Kongju 

on 18 July netted a document signed by a provincial committee requesting 

information “relative to American Forces.” Similarly worded instructions were 

also found in Pusan.23 On 7 August, CIC personnel raided the home of the chief 

of political affairs for the South Korean Communist Party. The Americans 

recovered numerous documents, to include “detailed but not too reliable 

17 Weinert, The U.S. Army and Military Assistance in Korea Since 1951, p. 7.

18 Gibby, “Fighting in a Korean War: The American Advisory Missions from 1946–1953,” 

p. 35.19 Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 1A, p. 69.

20 Gibby, “Fighting in a Korean War: The American Advisory Missions from 1946–1953,” 

p. 35; Army Forces in Korea, vol. 2, p. 344. 21 Army Forces in Korea, vol. 2, p. 329.

22 Ibid., p. 330.

23 Ibid., p. 339.
218 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

information on United States Army installations and units, detailed information 

on the Korean Constabulary and Coast Guard, Military Government, and the 

police. Translations of these documents revealed a most successful infiltration 

into the Constabulary and Coast Guard.”24

The CIC raids failed to uncover information on a nationwide railroad 

strike on 23 September 1946 that heralded the Communist-inspired “Autumn 

Harvest Rebellion.” The striking railway workers were joined a few days 

later by printers, Seoul electric company employees, and postal workers in 

Seoul, Taegu, and Kongju. The labor stoppages preceded in an orderly and 

nonviolent manner for six days before the death of a rioter in Taegu altered 

the mood of the demonstrators.

On 2 October, a large mob stormed the Taegu main police station. The 

police ran for their lives rather than mount an effective defense. Several were 

caught, tortured, and killed. When American civil affairs personnel requested 

assistance from Col. Russell J. Potts of the 1st Infantry Regiment, they were 

dismayed to learn that he refused to send any U.S. troops into Taegu unless 

he received full authority to declare martial law.25

American Military Government officials in Taegu received a second 

surprise when Korean constabulary units remained in their barracks rather 

than halt the rioting.26 The constabulary officers were worried that their 

enlisted ranks, which contained many leftist sympathizers, would refuse to 

obey if told to fire upon the rioters. The belated arrival of U.S. troops and 

armored vehicles forced the mob to relocate to the city’s outskirts, where 

rioters continued to wreak havoc and set fire to buildings. When the rioters 

refused to disperse peacefully, the Americans opened fire, killing or wounding 

several Koreans.27 Although order was restored in Taegu, an American report 

noted that the uprising proved “sufficiently successful to serve as a model for 

future serious rioting and to spur on the Communists in further fanning the 

flames of disorder.”28

Violent demonstrations were not confined to Taegu. At Waegwan, two 

thousand rioters overran the main police station on 3 October. After killing 

the chief of police, the mob seized all the weapons and ammunition they could 

find. One group loosed a few ineffective shots at a U.S. patrol responding to the 

incident.29 Four days later, American soldiers opened fire on mobs in Chinju 

24 Ibid., pp. 341–42. 25 “The Quasi-Revolt of October 1946,” Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 1C, p. 34. Potts 

received an official admonishment for his failure to act promptly. 26 Allan R. Millett, The War for Korea, 1945–1950: A House Burning (Lawrence: University 

Press of Kansas, 2006), p. 85. 27 Political Adviser in Korea (Langdon) to Secretary of State, 1 Nov 46, in Foreign 

Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1946 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 

1971), 8:754. 28 “The Quasi-Revolt of October 1946,” p. 1.

29 Ibid., p. 5.
Chasing a Chameleon 219

and Masan, killing twelve Koreans and wounding more than one hundred.30 On 

17 and 19 October, Korean police requested American assistance at Myonchon 

and Yeson, respectively. 

On 22 October, the American Military Government dispatched tank patrols 

into Seoul to prevent rioting. 31 Nine days later, elements of the 20th U.S. 

Infantry Regiment and Korean police fired on a 5,000-strong mob converging 

on Nanju, killing ten dissidents and injuring dozens.32 More violence occurred 

in early November, to include an attack near Kwangju against a U.S. military 

government convoy that resulted in Korean deaths and injuries to two 

Americans and thirty-three Koreans.33

The Autumn Harvest Rebellion quashed U.S. desires to maintain an 

occupation force in Korea. Shortly afterward, the State Department circulated 

a memorandum discussing possible timelines and conditions for an American 

withdrawal. The assistant secretary of state for occupied areas told the director 

of far eastern affairs,

I agree with you that it would be far better to have a unified central Government before we withdraw. . . . My judgment is that it isn’t the existence of a 

central government that is of such importance to us, but rather the existence 

of a reliable, strong, nationally-recognized central government. If we wait 

for that to occur, our troops may be there for ten years. . . . I think if the 

Russians would come forward tomorrow with a proposition for both of us 

to pull our troops out of Korea, we would decide—and very properly in my 

opinion, to haul our freight.34

Social unrest remained high in Korea as 1946 drew to a close due to 

widespread unemployment (only half of the labor force of ten million had jobs), 

food shortages, and frequent electrical blackouts. Poor living conditions had 

produced, “disillusioned and disconcerted people [who] paid keen attention 

to political leaders of various persuasions who offered new ways of solving 

Korean problems.”35 The South Korean Communist Party tapped into the well 

of popular discontent to stage a series of violent demonstrations against the 

30 Millett, The War for Korea, p. 85, and “The Quasi-Revolt of October 1946,” p. 6. 

An American report placed the death toll in Chinju alone at four killed and “many more” 

wounded. 31 Political Adviser in Korea (Langdon) to Secretary of State, 14 Nov 46, in FRUS, 1946, 

8:766.32 “The Quasi-Revolt of October 1946,” p. 13.

33 Ibid., p. 14.

34 Memo, Assistant Secretary of State for Occupied Areas for Director of the Office of Far 

Eastern Affairs, 8 Nov 46, in FRUS, 1946, 8:764–65. 35 South Korea: A Country Study, p. 30.
220 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

American presence in February 1947.36 On this occasion, U.S. combat units 

stayed in their barracks.37

Spurred by a growing desire to disentangle itself from an unpopular international commitment, the United States brought Korean independence before the 

United Nations (UN) General Assembly in September 1947. Within a month, the 

UN initiated plans to create a Korean civilian government prior to the departure 

of the American occupation force. Realizing they lacked the votes to prevail in 

a nationwide contest, North Korean Communists announced their intention to 

boycott the UN-sponsored election completely. South of the 38th Parallel, political 

violence increased as right-wing factions sought to enhance their influence prior 

to national elections scheduled for May 1948. The South Korean Communists 

focused their efforts on undermining the legitimacy of the upcoming election. 

The Cheju-do Rebellion of April 1948 preceded the Korean national 

election by one month. The American Military Government decided not 

to employ U.S. combat troops to restore order. Taking a cue from the 

“hands-off” attitude of their superiors, the military government officials 

on Cheju-do contributed to a widening of the crisis when, “the Chief Civil 

Affairs Officer of the 59th Military Government Company failed to take 

prompt and determined action to control the island police, and [to] effectively 

employ the police reserves as they arrived on the island.”38 Poorly coordinated 

sweeps into the island’s mountainous interior resulted only in numerous 

police casualties. Angered by their losses, the police vented their frustration 

on innocent villagers, which only served to persuade undecided individuals 

to join the insurgents. The 9th Constabulary Regiment on Cheju-do remained 

in its barracks. Its commander radioed Seoul to request instructions and to 

report that his soldiers were afraid of the rebels.39

Determined to ensure the islanders participated in the national elections, the American Military Government deployed the 11th Constabulary 

Regiment to Cheju-do. Capt. Jimmie Leach, who served as senior adviser 

to the unit, recalled, “I had six [other Americans] with me; I could call on 

two small L–4 single engine, fabric covered scout planes, and I had a navy 

too; two old, wooden-bottomed minesweepers converted to coastal cutters 

and manned by Korean crews.”40

The 11th Regiment began systematically hunting down insurgent bands. 

The National Police, heartened by the presence of an aggressive constabulary 

36 Korea in War, 500th Military Intelligence Group, translation requested by OCMH, 

Document 80545, n.d., p. A-166, Historical Reference Collection, CMH. 37 Harry G. Summers Jr., The Korean War: A Fresh Perspective, www.rt66.com/~korteng/ 

SmallArms/24thID.htm, Historians files, CMH. 38 Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 20.

39 “Back in the Day—Col. Jimmie Leach, a Former U.S. Army Officer, Recalls the Cheju-do 

Insurrection in 1948,” by Col. Jimmie Leach as told to Matt Hermes, Beaufort Gazette, 10 Jan 

2006, www.beaufortgazette.com, Historians files, CMH. 40 Ibid.
Chasing a Chameleon 221

unit, stepped up its efforts to destroy the rebels. The rebellion also spurred 

American efforts to create an all-sources intelligence cell to “collect, 

coordinate, analyze, and disseminate all insurgency related information from 

police, military, and civilian sources.”41 The first cell proved so effective that 

the Korean Military Assistance Group (KMAG) directed its advisers to create 

similar organizations in each Korean division. 

Although it took almost a year to finally defeat the Cheju-do insurgents, 

the uprising did not derail the May 1948 elections. Special precautions, to 

include the arrest of 993 leftist agitators by American CIC agents and Korean 

police, served to reduce violence directed at voters and polling places.42 Not 

surprisingly, the hard-line rightists won an overwhelming victory. Three 

weeks later, the constitutional assembly appointed Syngman Rhee as its 

chairman. Rhee’s personal agenda consisted of solidifying his power base 

rather than instituting a truly democratic political system. Rhee cooperated 

with the American Military Government only to the extent necessary to 

further his own ambitions.

Events in Korea moved rapidly in the wake of the elections. On 15 August 

1948, the Republic of Korea (ROK) was formally established. That same day, 

the constabulary was renamed the Republic of Korea Army. Three weeks later, 

Kim Il Sung assumed the reins of power in North Korea, claiming “authority 

over the entire country by virtue of elections conducted in the north and the 

underground elections allegedly held in the south.”43

Kim Il Sung’s ascension to power coincided with plans to increase 

the South Korean Army to 50,000 officers and men. While the number of 

American police advisers shrank to four, the U.S. contingent of Korean 

Army advisers increased from 100 to 248.44 Brig. Gen. William L. Roberts, 

who had replaced General Schick, established the Provisional Military 

Assistance Group, Korea, with a table of organization that would provide 

the South Koreans with American counterparts down to battalion level. The 

departure of the last American combat troops, scheduled for June 1949, also 

served to accelerate U.S. plans to reconfigure the South Korean Army into 

a division-based organization. 

The South Korean Army faced a number of challenges during this period. 

Events on Cheju-do, where members of the 9th Regiment tried to join the 

insurgents and the 11th Regiment’s commanding officer was murdered by 

a member of his staff, indicated that leftists within its ranks were becoming 

increasingly bold. American CIC personnel, aided by South Korean intelligence 

officers loyal to Rhee, were ordered to purge the military of political undesirables. 

41 Andrew J. Birtle, U.S. Army Counterinsurgency and Contingency Operations Doctrine, 

1942–1976 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2006), p. 94. 42 “The Police and National Events, 1947–1948,” in Army Forces in Korea, vol. 3, pt. 

1C, p. 37. 43 South Korea: A Country Study, p. 31. 44 Millett, The War for Korea, p. 133.
222 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

As historian Brian Gibby explained, “With assistance from the U.S. Army’s 

971st Counterintelligence Detachment, Paik [Col. Paik Sun-Yup] managed to 

identify nearly all suspected subversives.”45 Aware that the net was closing in, 

Communist sympathizers in the South Korean Army decided to act. 

On 19 October 1948, the 14th Regiment mutinied after receiving orders 

to replace the 11th Regiment on Cheju-do. A small group of mutineers killed 

thirty officers and persuaded six hundred to eight hundred of their comrades 

to switch sides. A Korean mechanized squadron, led by American Lts. 

Robert M. Shackleton and Ralph Bliss, defeated the main group of mutineers 

after prolonged fighting.46 However, the mass defections “rocked the Rhee 

administration and the American mission in Seoul. . . . There was no question 

that the week-long fighting had been a major political event, despite . . . pitiful 

attempt[s] to cast the revolt as simply Communist terrorism with no roots in 

the population.”47

Violent disaffection within the army was not confined to the 14th Regiment. 

On 2 November 1948, a senior noncommissioned officer of the 6th Regiment 

charged with inciting mutiny killed a Korean Military Police lieutenant sent 

to arrest him. The murderer gathered approximately one hundred enlisted 

men, who proceeded to kill seven more officers. South Korean Military Police 

rushed to the scene, only to encounter a deadly ambush. The survivors sought 

assistance from a nearby American unit, which confronted and disarmed the 

mutineers. About twenty rebel soldiers escaped, including the ringleader. Two 

more incidents involving the 6th Regiment occurred on 6 December 1948 and 

30 January 1949. Both involved the deaths of several loyal officers and the 

escape of many mutineers.48

Encouraged by disarray within Rhee’s armed forces and bolstered by 

statements of support from Joseph Stalin, Kim Il Sung began providing direct 

assistance to the southern insurgents. 49 Between 20 October 1948 and 28 March 

1950, he dispatched ten guerrilla units, ranging in size from fifteen to seven 

hundred personnel, to South Korea. While security forces killed, captured, or 

dispersed almost all of the northerners, two groups managed to link up with 

southern dissidents in the city of Taedong.50

45 Gibby, “Fighting in a Korean War: The American Advisory Missions from 

1946–1953,” p. 58. 46 Ibid, p. 60.

47 Millett, The War for Korea, p. 170. 48 Military History of Korea, translated from Korean by Headquarters, U.S. Army Forces, 

Far East Military Intelligence Service Group, 5 Sep 52, pp. 55–56, Historical Research 

Collection, CMH. 49 Kathryn Weathersby, Soviet Aims in Korea and the Origins of the Korean War, 

1945–1950: New Evidence from Russian Archives, Working Paper 8, Cold War International 

History Project (Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 1993), 

pp. 23–24. 50 Military History of Korea, pp. 46–48.
Chasing a Chameleon 223

Rhee reacted to the northern infiltration by ordering his commanders to 

conduct mass counterinsurgency sweeps. The gravity of the situation was 

highlighted by Rhee’s acquiescence to American suggestions to assign the most 

capable officers to oversee the sweeps. As historian Alan Millett observed, 

“Desperate for some military success, the president permitted the American 

advisers more latitude in selecting commanders and designing operations, 

which allowed the professional officers of the first class to conduct field 

operations in cooperation with their American counterparts and stay-behind 

elements of USAFIK [United States Army Forces in Korea].”51

While American advisers and their Korean counterparts found themselves 

“in constant conflict over proper counterinsurgency methods, . . . out of this 

tension came a meld of American methods and the techniques of suppression 

that the Japanese had developed in Manchuria, for combating guerrillas in 

cold-weather, mountainous terrain, implemented by Korean officers who had 

served the Japanese (often in Manchuria).”52 The hybrid tactics resulted in 

several significant coups. Kim Yong Kwan, leader of the People’s Committee 

on Cheju-do, was killed on 20 April 1949.53 During that same period, the 

leader of the Yosu Rebellion, Lt. Kim Chi-hoe, died of wounds following a 

skirmish with loyal troops.54

By late 1949, the flagging efforts of the southern dissidents strengthened 

Kim Il Sung’s conviction that a full-scale invasion would be necessary to 

unify the Korean peninsula.55 When the North Korean attack began on 25 June 

1950, the American advisory group consisted of 183 officers and 286 enlisted 

men.56 South Korean losses in personnel and equipment were so great during 

the first month of the conflict that three divisions were inactivated. Faced with 

a disintegrating southern army, American advisers assumed responsibilities 

well beyond the norm. Counterinsurgency receded into the background as 

Korean and U.S. forces concentrated on surviving.

Ignoring the southern insurgency proved easier said than done. The 

North Koreans considered the dissident groups as potentially valuable allies. 

Likewise, the insurgents intended to make the most of the changing military 

situation. As Communist conventional forces surged southward, “guerrillas 

became a constant threat to the rear areas of ROK and Allied troops fighting 

51 Millett, The War for Korea, p. 202. 52 Ibid., p. 286.

53 Military History of Korea, p. 49.

54 Ronald H. Spector, In the Ruins of Empire: The Japanese Surrender and the Battle for 

Postwar Asia (New York: Random House, 2007), p. 204. 55 There is evidence that Kim Il Sung had contemplated a full-scale invasion prior to this 

period. See Bruce Cumings, The Origins of the Korean War, Volume II, The Roaring of the 

Cataract, 1947–1950 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), p. 284. 56 “Narrative Account of Events in South Korea from 25 June through 1 July 1950,” in 

Military History of Korea, p. 1.
224 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

their bitter withdrawal to the Pusan Perimeter.”57 The invaders installed a 

provisional government, staffed in many instances with southern insurgents, 

in the wake of their victorious advance. 

When the UN forces broke out of Pusan in September 1950, the changing 

fortunes of war forced leftist insurgents in the provisional Communist 

government to flee. Although the northern military had occupied South Korean 

territory for a relatively brief period, its oppressive actions convinced many 

southerners that President Rhee seemed preferable to permanent Communist 

rule. As a result, South Koreans eagerly stepped forward to identify insurgents 

as soon as UN forces liberated their villages. An American intelligence report, 

for example, listed no less than twenty-six people in the village of Chogye as 

collaborators and dissidents.58 Most of the unmasked insurgents were arrested 

and shot by the Korean National Police.

Although Korean security forces eliminated thousands of collaborators 

and guerrillas during the fall of 1950, the rear area threat actually swelled 

as stay-behinds from five North Korean divisions began harassing UN 

forces.59 The northerners absorbed, operated alongside, or concluded informal 

alliances with surviving local dissidents. An American officer, recording 

the result of the joining of irregular forces, noted, “For seventeen months 

following the outbreak of the war, the southwest guerrillas blazed a trail 

of destroyed farms, shattered communications routes, and defiance of the 

provincial governments. Mobilized against them was the National Police, 

organized on full war footing and fighting battles which at times compared 

in size with those on the main battle front.”60

The Korean National Police had always depended on military assistance 

to battle insurgency. By November 1950, however, the bulk of the prewar 

Korean Army had been dispersed or destroyed. By default, the mission of 

assisting the Korean National Police temporarily fell on American and UN 

forces. The Americans launched their first major counterinsurgency operation on 18 January 1951, when the 1st Marine Division, augmented by two 

battalions of South Korean marines, deployed to protect the supply routes 

for UN forces located south of Seoul.61 Southern insurgents and their North 

Korean allies followed the traditional guerrilla pattern of dispersing when 

57 Conduct of Anti-Guerrilla Operations in Southwest Korea by Task Force Paik, 2 December 

1951–8 February 1952, p. 3, Records of General Headquarters, Far East Command, Supreme 

Commander Allied Powers, and United Nations Command, Record Group (RG) 554, National 

Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Md. (hereafter cited as NACP). 58 An. 3 to Periodic Intelligence Rpt 32, 2d Inf Div, 302–2.1, G–2 Periodic Reports, Sep–Oct 

50, Records of the Adjutant General, RG 407, NACP. 59 These units included the 2d, 4th, 5th, 7th, and 10th Divisions (History of the North 

Korean Army, sec. V, pp. 54–69, Historical Manuscript Collection, CMH). 60 Conduct of Anti-Guerrilla Operations in Southwest Korea by Task Force Paik, 2 

December 1951–8 February 1952, p. 3. 61 Lynn Montross et al., The East–Central Front, U.S. Marine Operations in Korea, 

1950–1953 (Washington, D.C.: Historical Branch, HQ, U.S. Marine Corps, 1962), 4:3.
Chasing a Chameleon 225

confronted by vastly superior military force. For twenty-seven days, U.S. and 

South Korean marines chased down guerrillas, North Korean People’s Army

(NKPA) stragglers, and rumors. In return for 184 friendly losses, the marines 

killed 120 enemy and took 184 prisoners.62

The experience of the 10th Battalion, Philippine Expeditionary Force to 

Korea, provides an example of smaller scale UN participation. Possessing 

some experience in fighting insurgents, the 10th received orders to eliminate 

insurgent bands threatening supply routes between Seoul and the ports of 

Masan and Pusan. The battalion’s operational area covered more than eight 

hundred square miles and harbored about three thousand guerrillas. The 10th 

spent the initial months of its tour in Korea conducting numerous sweeps 

for northern stay-behinds and southern dissidents, until it finally received a 

front-line assignment with the 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team.63

Not surprisingly, American and UN commanders in Korea found it 

extremely difficult to conduct successful counterinsurgency operations. Since 

their troops remained only long enough in a given area to hunt for guerrillas, 

local residents were hesitant to pass along any information about insurgent 

bands. Their fear of reprisal after UN troops left proved greater than any sense 

of civic duty. The total lack of useful intelligence was only partially offset 

by UN military liaison cells collocated with special security elements of the 

Korean National Police.64

The long-term solution lay in the United Nations Command providing 

additional training and equipment to the South Koreans. Talks between General 

James H. Van Fleet, commander of the UN forces in Korea, and Maj. Gen. Lee 

Chong Chan, South Korean chief of staff, resulted in an agreement to expand 

the South Korean Army to 10 infantry divisions, 22 artillery battalions, 3 

armor battalions, 13 security battalions, and 10 separate infantry regiments.65

With security battalions and separate regiments, which were not earmarked 

for front-line operations, constituting one-third of the South Korean infantry 

strength, the rear threat was taken very seriously. 

Although UN counterinsurgency sweeps never gained lasting success, 

the increased number of American advisers assigned to the expanding South 

Korean Army had a significant impact on South Korean counterinsurgency 

operations. As historian Andy Birtle observed, 

62 Ibid., p. 57.

63 Art Villasanta, The Glory of Our Fathers: The Philippine Expeditionary Force to Korea, 

2000, Historians files, CMH. 

64 Intelligence and Counterintelligence Problems During the Korean War, Military History 

Section, Headquarters United States Army Forces and Eighth United States Army, n.d., p. 26, 

Historical Manuscript Collection, CMH. 65 Kenneth W. Meyers, United States Advisory Group to the Republic of Korea, pt. 4, 

KMAG’s Wartime Experiences, 11 July 1951 to 27 July 1953, n.d., Office of the Military 

History Officer, U.S. Army, Japan, p. 43, Historical Manuscript Collection, CMH.
226 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

The widening war increased American influence over the conduct of South 

Korean counterinsurgency operations, as Rhee subordinated the ROK Army 

to American command and the United States deployed additional advisers. 

Several of the new U.S. personnel had had significant counterguerrilla experience prior to deploying to Korea. Foremost among these was General 

[James] Van Fleet, who assumed control over allied ground forces in Korea 

in the spring of 1951.66

December 1951 witnessed the Korean Army’s return to deliberate 

counterinsurgency operations. Task Force Paik—led by Lt. Gen. Paik Sun Yup 

and consisted of a combined U.S.-Korean headquarters, the Capital and 8th 

Infantry Divisions, Korean police and security battalions, and American support 

units—embarked on a three-month operation against guerrillas in southwestern 

Korea. General Paik later commented, “I must say that it was risky to withdraw 

two full divisions from the front and employ them in rear-area combat operations 

during a shooting war. Indeed, our willingness to accept that risk suggests the 

level of threat the communist guerrillas posed to the state.”67

Paik’s staff included an American team composed of sixty experts at 

operational liaison, communications, air-ground liaison, engineering, and 

psychological operations. His senior U.S. adviser, Lt. Col. William A. Dodds, 

had accumulated considerable counterguerrilla experience in Greece.68 A total 

of 530 American officers and men, including attached engineer and transportation units, provided logistical aid to Task Force Paik.69 The Americans also 

furnished six L–19 liaison aircraft and one helicopter.70

From the onset, Paik prohibited his soldiers from taking food, burning homes, 

and firing at individuals not actively resisting. In return, South Korean civilians 

who had refused to help soon began providing Paik’s troops with information 

about the guerrillas. The task force’s after action report remarked, “Not the least 

reason for this change in attitude was the excellent conduct of the Task Force 

troops, which in turn was the result of the emphasis placed by the Task Force 

commander upon good behavior as part of good public relations.”71

In a four-phased operation, Task Force Paik killed, wounded, or captured 

19,779 guerrillas. The South Koreans seized a total of 3,239 weapons, including 

mortars, recoilless rifles, machine guns, rifles, and pistols.72 South Korean 

and U.S. Air Force tactical aircraft, rather than field artillery, provided the 

necessary fire support. General Van Fleet, who “learned that the infantry 

66 Birtle, U.S. Army Counterinsurgency and Contingency Operations Doctrine, 1942–1976, 

pp. 100–101. 67 Paik Sun Yup, From Pusan to Panmunjom (New York: Brassey’s, 1992), p. 182. 68 Ibid., p. 183.

69 Conduct of Anti-Guerrilla Operations in Southwest Korea by Task Force Paik, 2 

December 1951–8 February 1952, p. 22. 70 Ibid., pp. 12–13. 71 Ibid., p. 20.

72 Ibid., p. 10. The majority of the weapons were Russian-made.
Chasing a Chameleon 227

would not execute a final assault on a summit defended by die-hard guerillas 

if artillery support was available,” insisted upon this tactic.73 While Paik’s 

dramatic success did not completely eliminate the United Nations Command’s 

rear-area security problems, he demonstrated that it was possible to curb the 

activities of southern insurgents and northern irregulars.

A massive resurgence of political violence, originating from a familiar 

source, appeared imminent in South Korea during the spring of 1952. President 

Rhee’s attempts to amend the constitution to ensure that he would be reelected 

by popular vote rather than chosen by the assembly encountered stubborn 

opposition from political foes. On 24 May, an exasperated Rhee declared 

martial law in Pusan and placed a number of his opponents under arrest.74

Concerned that South Koreans would begin venting their anger against UN 

personnel and installations, Van Fleet sent an American rifle battalion to Taegu 

as a reserve force to respond to rioting. He also readied an American regimental 

combat team in Japan to deploy to South Korea to perform security duties if the 

tense political situation adversely affected ongoing UN logistics operations.75

Under considerable American pressure, to include intervention by President 

Harry S. Truman, Rhee and the National Assembly negotiated a face-saving 

compromise averting the possibility of renewed internal rebellion.

Conclusions

Summers’ use of Korea as an example where the U.S. military “successfully” 

separated counterinsurgency from conventional combat reflects an attempt to intellectually come to grips with the outcome of the Vietnam War rather than objective 

analysis. Colonel Alnwick offers a more nuanced assessment by noting, “The 

United States never had a choice between counterinsurgency and national building 

on one hand and conventional warfare on the other, to have any chance of winning 

or even avoiding defeat, we had to devote equal energy to both tasks.”76

Separating counterinsurgency and conventional warfare into two distinct 

categories also suggests that there is no link between both types of conflict. 

In doing so, Colonel Summers overlooks historical examples, such as the 

Communist Chinese rebellion in the late 1940s, where an insurgent force 

transformed into a conventional army. Unlike Alnwick, who argues that “two 

decades of relentless guerrilla warfare” set the stage for South Vietnam’s defeat, 

Summers’ statement dismisses the possibility of an insurgency establishing 

the preconditions for conventional military operations.77

73 Paik, From Pusan to Panmunjom, p. 184. 74 Walter G. Hermes, Truce Tent and Fighting Front (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center 

of Military History, 1988), p. 345. 75 Ibid., p. 346.

76 Alnwick, Strategic Choice, National Will, and the Vietnam Experience, p. 136. 77 Ibid.
228 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Summers’ aversion to nation building, which reflected the attitude of many 

Army officers after Vietnam, overlooks the root causes for an insurgency. In 

Korea, for example, the American Military Government opted for a low-cost 

solution that returned Korean members of the Japanese Colonial Police to 

their former jobs. The brutal behavior of the police, who openly supported 

right-wing political factions, fueled rather than inhibited the rise of South 

Korean insurgent groups. Allotting sufficient resources at the onset to American 

nation-building efforts in Korea, at least in this case, could have produced 

a police force capable of solving rather than adding to the internal security 

challenges facing the American Military Government.

By reinforcing the legitimacy of the indigenous government in the eyes 

of its own population, nation building, even at the most localized level, forms 

a key component of any counterinsurgency campaign. An American report 

published in 1951 stated, “Communist forces will find it hard to grow or even 

exist among people who are well fed, well housed, well clothed, and gainfully 

employed. On the other hand, it is useless to believe in the ultimate success of 

any [purely] military [counterinsurgency] operation if [poor social] conditions 

continue to foster political or economic intent.”78 General Paik demonstrated 

a keen understanding of this crucial relationship. 

Summers’ comparison wrongly assumes the presence of effective 

indigenous security forces to wage the counterinsurgency fight while American 

combat units focus on conventional warfare. Precisely the opposite situation 

occurred during the Autumn Harvest Rebellion in 1946, when Communist 

sympathizers succeeded in undermining the constabulary. Although the 

South Korean Army gained many successes in 1948–1949, it withdrew from 

the counterinsurgency fight when it respectively suffered crippling losses at 

the hands of the North Koreans in 1950 and the Chinese in 1951. American 

and UN military forces, in close cooperation with Korean National Police, 

assumed responsibility for rear-area security and counterinsurgency until the 

reconstitution of the South Korean Army in late 1951. 

Thus American involvement in South Korean counterinsurgency 

operations spanned the entire spectrum, from “hands off” to intimate 

participation. Although U.S. commanders would have undoubtedly preferred 

to pass responsibility for counterinsurgency operations to the South Koreans, 

significant changes to the strategic and political situation frequently prevented 

them from doing so. While Summers’ choice of a “Korea counterinsurgency 

model” remains highly debatable, his observations serve as an indicator of 

how our Army’s experience in Korea, rightly or wrongly, influenced American 

decisions during Vietnam.

78 Birtle, U.S. Army Counterinsurgency and Contingency Operations Doctrine, 

1942–1976, p. 89.
Lessons Learned and Relearned: Gun Trucks 

on Route 19 in Vietnam

Ted Ballard

The war in Iraq is, as the Vietnam War was, a war without front lines. The 

relatively free movement of enemy insurgents throughout the country makes 

U.S. Army supply lines vulnerable and invites attacks on vehicle convoys. This 

proved especially true early in the Iraq War, when U.S. truck convoys lacked 

sufficient internal or organic security to deter or defend against aggressive 

attacks. In these attacks, the enemy often employed rocket-propelled grenades 

and heavy machine guns, as well as the AK47 assault rifle. Military police 

(MP) units often provided the only security for truck convoys, but in most 

cases MP units did not possess sufficient organic firepower to withstand a 

determined enemy attack. For example, in March 2003, Iraqis ambushed a 

U.S. Army truck convoy and made headlines by killing eleven soldiers and 

wounding and capturing seven, including Pfc. Jessica Lynch. Only the arrival 

of a nearby tactical unit prevented the loss of additional personnel.1 This 

ambush was followed by similar attacks on U.S. convoys in Iraq, with loss 

of life and vehicles.

The constant threat of attacks on convoys led some Army transportation 

units in Iraq to obtain local scrap steel and place it on five-ton cargo trucks. 

They also placed machine guns in the vehicle beds and reassigned drivers as 

gunners.2 Since these gun trucks formed an integral part of the convoy and 

could react instantly to enemy attacks, they had an operational effectiveness 

unmatched by the available external security assets. As more transportation 

units in Iraq began to “harden” vehicles for convoy security, the Army made 

armor-plate kits available through official channels. In 2004, the Lawrence 

Livermore National Laboratory designed modular, heavy-duty armor kits to 

convert cargo trucks into convoy protection vehicles. By 2005, thirty-one 

cargo trucks, using the armor-plate kit, beefed up convoy security in Iraq.3 The 

innovation of the cargo truck converted to an armored gun truck soon became 

a familiar sight accompanying convoys on the roads of Iraq.

1 Attack on the 507th Maintenance Company, 23 March 2003, An Nasiriya, Iraq, U.S. 

Army Training and Doctrine Command, Fort Monroe, Va. 2Capt. Daniel T. Rossi, “The Logistics Convoy: A Combat Operation,” Army Logistician

37 (January–February 2005). 3 Public Affairs News Release, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, 21 Jul 2005.
230 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

This author served with the 523d Transportation Company in Vietnam, 

and the convoy security problem and its solution in Iraq gave me a sense of 

déjà vu. Transportation personnel in Iraq confronted a convoy security problem 

and, like a previous generation of Army truckers in Vietnam, arrived at the 

same solution.

During the deployment of tactical units to Vietnam in mid-1965, the Army 

stationed most highway transport units at or near the major port areas. They 

provided port and beach clearance and local and line haul from ports at Saigon, 

Cam Ranh Bay, and Qui Nhon. In October 1966, the 8th Transportation Group 

arrived in Vietnam and was assigned to the coastal and fishing center at the port 

of Qui Nhon. The 8th Group assumed operational command of three trucking 

battalions: the 27th and 54th, near Qui Nhon, and the 124th, more than one 

hundred miles west on Route 19 at the Central Highland town of Pleiku. The 

mission of these battalions was to provide motor transport to tactical forces 

in the II Corps Tactical Zone. This article focuses on the 54th Transportation 

Battalion and its experiences on Route 19. However, the innovations mentioned 

in this work took place in surrounding transportation battalions as well.

The 54th Transportation Battalion compound (named Camp Addison after 

a trucker killed in action) was located sixteen miles northwest of Qui Nhon, 

along Route 19.4 The 54th engaged in line haul operations from the port at Qui 

Nhon to various combat units and stations on Route 19 to the west or Route 

1, which ran parallel to the coast. The battalion initially included three light 

truck companies—the 512th, 523d, and 669th—and one medium company, 

the 563d.5 Another light truck company, the 666th, joined the battalion in 

August 1967.6 The light companies were equipped with M54 five-ton cargo 

trucks, and the medium company with M52 tractors with twelve-ton trailers.7

Convoys hauled a variety of supplies to tactical units, anything from beer to 

artillery shells and from building materials to 500-gallon rubber bladders filled 

with JP–4 aviation fuel.

The battalion divided convoy operations into daytime and nighttime trips. 

During the night, drivers moved empty trucks from the Camp Addison motor 

pool to various compounds in and around Qui Nhon, had the trucks loaded, 

and then returned them to the camp motor pool. Known as night shuttles, these 

convoys might contain one, two, or more trucks, and some drivers might make 

more than one trip to Qui Nhon and back during the night. By morning, all 

trucks were loaded and ready for day drivers.

4 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Annual Supplement to Unit History, 1 June 1966 

to 31 December 1967, 28 Mar 67. 5 Ibid.

6HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

31 October 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 1 Nov 67. 7HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

30 April 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 13 May 67.
Lessons Learned and Relearned 231

Daytime convoys might have anywhere from 100 to 230 vehicles, with the 

column of trucks stretching for miles.8 Because most of Route 19 was unpaved 

and heavily potholed, the battalion’s official standard operating procedure 

(SOP) required that convoys obey designated speed limits and reduce speeds 

commensurate with road, weather, and traffic conditions. The SOP set convoy 

speeds at twenty-five miles per hour (mph), not to exceed thirty-five mph, and 

reduced speed through villages to approximately fifteen mph.9

Route 19 served as the main ground supply route from the port at Qui Nhon 

to the town of Pleiku in the Central Highlands, the longest line haul route in 

Vietnam. The route west from Camp Addison traversed one hundred miles 

of winding, potholed, mostly unpaved roadway, crowded with civilian traffic. 

The road was bordered in some places by wide-open fields or rice paddies and 

in other places by heavy jungle. It crossed bridges about every three miles, 

most of which had been destroyed and replaced by temporary bridging. About 

fifty miles west of Qui Nhon, Route 19 left the coastal plains and climbed 

five thousand feet through two mountain passes. The first, the An Khe Pass, 

contained several switchbacks and a nasty hairpin turn, nicknamed the “Devil’s 

Hairpin” by the truckers. Often, near the top of the pass, the trucks would 

literally enter the clouds, forcing the drivers to decrease the distance between 

vehicles in order to keep visual contact with the vehicle in front. Stationed 

near the top of the pass was the 1st Cavalry Division with its fleet of almost 

five hundred helicopters.

From An Khe, Route 19 continued westward to the infamous Mang Yang 

Pass. In 1954, along this same highway, the Viet Minh annihilated a French 

military convoy, Group Mobile 100, during the French-Indochina War. Near 

the top of the pass, a small stone marker commemorating the battle still stands. 

After reaching the top of the pass, Route 19 continued approximately twenty 

more miles to the camps of the 4th Infantry Division at Pleiku. There, the 

convoy dispersed into smaller groups of vehicles, depending on the material 

on each truck, and moved to various supply areas for unloading. The empty 

trucks then reassembled for the return trip.

Poor road conditions and speed restrictions made the one-way, 100-mileplus trip from Camp Addison to Pleiku take about five hours. Unloading the 

large number of trucks took another three hours. The 200-mile-plus round trip 

might take about thirteen hours, but often the poor road and weather conditions 

lengthened that time. Since these convoys moved seven days a week, and a 

shortage of drivers required every man to remain on duty, the hours for the 

drivers were grueling, with some drivers on the road nonstop as many as fifteen 

to eighteen hours at a time.10

8HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

30 April 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 13 May 67. 9Col Joe O. Bellino, 8th Transportation Group, Sep 1967–Sep 1968, n.d.

10 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

30 April 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 13 May 67.
232 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

A convoy commander, usually a platoon leader in an M151 quarter-ton 

truck equipped with a PRC–25 battery-operated radio, accompanied each 

convoy. Since the PRC–25 had a range of only a few miles, the departing 

convoy was soon out of contact with battalion headquarters at Camp Addison. 

As the convoy passed near tactical units stationed along the highway, the 

convoy commander could use his radio to alert tactical units that the convoy 

was in the area or to call them for assistance if necessary. Unfortunately, 

considerable maintenance problems plagued the PRC–25 radios, which often 

malfunctioned.11

Tactical units along Route 19 between Qui Nhon and Pleiku provided 

limited convoy security. But some stretches of highway had no tactical forces 

available. From Qui Nhon to the foot of the An Khe Pass, a South Korean 

infantry division had responsibility for guarding the highway’s many bridges. 

No tactical units occupied the An Khe Pass itself because of the difficult terrain. 

The 1st Cavalry Division provided security from the top of the pass to the base 

of the Mang Yang Pass, but again, no tactical units covered that pass. Just 

beyond the top of this pass, the elements of the 4th Infantry Division picked 

up road security to Pleiku. Tactical units only provided convoy security when 

priorities permitted. Since U.S. forces in the Central Highlands often engaged 

in combat missions, they just as often failed to provide the desired degree of 

support for convoys.

Although not ideal, the security system for the daily convoys in place in 

the early part of 1967 seemed to work. Up to that time, little significant enemy 

activity directly involved 54th Battalion convoys. By April, only two sniping 

incidents, which wounded drivers, involved 54th convoys traveling Route19.12

Still, the battalion headquarters remained concerned for convoy security. By 

May, the battalion commander requested several .50-caliber machine guns with 

ring mounts. He intended to mount them on selected cargo trucks interspersed 

within the convoys. In the event of ambush, the drivers of these armed trucks 

would enter the ring mount and return fire.13 To protect themselves from 

possible mines, the 8th Group drivers also were instructed to add sandbags 

to the floors of their trucks. This lessened the possibility of mine injury, but 

the increased floor height often made working accelerator and brake pedals 

difficult. And, to increase command and control, the 8th Group reduced the 

number of vehicles in a single convoy to one hundred or fewer trucks.14

As fall 1967 approached, the convoys continued their daily trips on Route 

19 and Route 1, and enemy activity remained at a low level. The requested 

11 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report of the 54th Transportation 

Battalion (Truck) WFR6AA, for the Period Ending 31 July 1968, 6SFOR-65 (R-1), 1 Aug 68. 12 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

30 April 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 13 May 67. 13 Ibid.

14 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report for the Quarterly Period Ending 

31 October 1967, RCS CSFOR-65, 1 Nov 67. 
Lessons Learned and Relearned 233

.50-caliber machine guns and ring mounts had yet to arrive at the 54th, but 

there seemed to be no urgency in arming the unit’s trucks. An occasional mine 

incident or lone sniper taking a potshot at a convoy was more of a nuisance 

than a perceived threat of anything more serious.

All that changed on 2 September 1967. About 7:00 p.m., an eastbound 

54th convoy of thirty-seven empty vehicles was returning from Pleiku. As the 

column approached the An Khe Pass, a 57-mm. recoilless rifle round struck 

the lead M151, killing one passenger and wounding the driver and machine 

gunner. Surprised by the attack, the drivers in the following cargo trucks halted 

and dismounted. A loaded, 5,000-gallon fuel tanker had joined the convoy 

near Pleiku, and enemy rounds soon set the vehicle on fire, blocking the road. 

Drivers behind the tanker also jumped from their vehicles. In the confusion of 

the attack, none of the drivers seemed to know what to do. With the convoy 

now spread out along the highway and with little or no communication with 

their officers and noncommissioned officers, the dismounted drivers were 

simply a group of individual soldiers without a plan of action. As some drivers 

returned fire, the enemy, at estimated company strength, charged in among the 

trucks firing small arms and throwing hand grenades. Local tactical security 

units from the nearest checkpoint heard the firing and arrived within fifteen 

minutes, but by then the enemy had withdrawn under cover of darkness. The 

ambush had been a great success for the enemy. In less than fifteen minutes, 

he killed seven drivers, wounded seventeen, and damaged or destroyed thirty 

of the thirty-seven vehicles.15 The convoy had proved an easy target. For the 

enemy, this ambush began a series of attacks on the convoys intended to shut 

down the supply line on Route19 for the five months before the Tet offensive 

of 1968. 

In response to the September attack, the commanders of the 54th Battalion 

and its higher headquarters, the 8th Transportation Group, took several steps 

to counter any further attacks. They realized that the ambushed convoy had 

been on the road too late in the evening, which had allowed its attackers to 

escape in the darkness before nearby tactical forces arrived. Consequently, the 

commanders closed Route 19 to traffic traveling east of An Khe at 5:00 p.m., 

instead of the usual 7:00 p.m.16 Since the enemy had launched his attack from 

concealed positions in the brush close to the road, engineers using bulldozers 

began clearing away vegetation one thousand meters from either side of the 

highway near the ambush site.17

The convoys also adopted a change in doctrine—the Hardened Convoy 

Concept. This was no more than utilizing special communications and 

armor-plated equipment for control purposes and firepower. Battalion convoys 

would also run in serials, with ten vehicles per serial, spaced approximately 

15 Bellino, 8th Transportation Group.

16 Ibid.

17 Richard E. Killblane, Circle the Wagons: The History of US Army Convoy Security (Fort 

Leavenworth, Kans.: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2005), p. 29.
234 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

five minutes apart. At the head of each serial was an M151 gun jeep equipped 

with a radio and armed with a pedestal-mounted machine gun, with a “gun 

truck” immediately behind it.18

The gun trucks, modified M35 21⁄2-ton cargo vehicles, were armor-plated 

and sandbagged; staffed with a driver, an assistant driver, and a gun crew in the 

bed of the vehicle; and carried two M60 machine guns. Initially, the machine 

guns were simply carried on the floor of the bed of the truck; later, they were 

placed on pedestal mounts. In addition to a grenade launcher and machine 

guns, each crew member was armed with his issued M14 rifle. The Americans 

employed 21⁄2-ton vehicles as gun trucks because every truck company had at 

least one of these vehicles, which it used for a variety of administrative purposes 

around camp. Second, converting the 21⁄2-ton trucks for convoy security would 

not deplete the battalion’s fleet of 5-ton task vehicles for daily convoys. The 

battalion quickly began locating local scrap steel and placing it on the sides of 

the 21⁄2-ton trucks. Soon precut steel plate armor kits arrived from the States, 

and the truckers quickly placed them on the 21⁄2-ton gun trucks. These kits 

included two quarter-inch steel doorplates, three quarter-inch plates for the bed 

of the truck, and a windshield cover. To provide additional firepower, the units 

equipped a few of the 21⁄2-ton trucks with M55 quad .50-caliber machine guns. 

The M55 consisted of four .50-caliber machine guns, operated electronically, 

with a single gunner firing all four guns in tandem. The M55 could fire 450 to 

550 rounds per minute. Soon the 54th Battalion had converted a dozen 21⁄2-ton 

cargo trucks into gun trucks.19

The 54th’s convoys, now accompanied by the gun trucks, continued to 

make the daily haul of supplies west to An Khe and Pleiku. Until late November, 

they reported only a few minor sniper and mining incidents. None halted the 

daily movement of supplies to U.S. tactical units in the Highlands.

On the morning of 24 November 1967, the enemy again launched a major 

ambush of a 54th convoy on Route19, west of An Khe. On that day, the 

westbound morning convoy included forty-three 5-ton cargo trucks, fifteen 

21⁄2-ton trucks of another battalion, a maintenance truck, six 21⁄2-ton gun trucks, 

and three gun jeeps. The convoy was divided into six serials of about ten 

task vehicles per serial, with one gun truck leading each serial. About 10:00 

a.m., a rocket-propelled grenade struck and destroyed the gun truck leading 

the first serial. Simultaneously, a mine destroyed the lead cargo truck. Other 

truck drivers attempted to escape the kill zone, but small arms fire or mines 

knocked out trucks and blocked the road. Several 5,000-gallon fuel tankers in 

the first serial burst into flames. Only one truck managed to escape the inferno. 

Another rocket-propelled grenade struck the gun truck leading the second 

serial, wounding the driver and causing the truck to careen off the road and 

flip over, crushing to death one of the crew. Enemy fire hit cargo trucks loaded 

18 Bellino, 8th Transportation Group.

19 Ibid.; Killblane, Circle the Wagons, p. 32.
Lessons Learned and Relearned 235

with artillery ammunition, which began to explode. When one ammunition 

truck detonated, the explosion destroyed one of the gun trucks directly behind 

it. Rocket-propelled grenades damaged and knocked out two more gun trucks, 

but the remaining two armored vehicles in the last two serials moved up to the 

kill zone and began to lay down a suppressive fire on the attackers.

When the first gun truck was struck, the convoy commander had 

immediately radioed the call sign, “Contact,” alerting a nearby checkpoint. 

Within twenty minutes, tanks and armored personnel carriers arrived on the 

scene, but the enemy had already withdrawn. The attack killed three truckers, 

wounded seventeen, and destroyed or damaged ten cargo trucks and four of the 

six gun trucks. Although the convoy suffered casualties and vehicle damage, 

the firepower of the remaining two gun trucks, along with that of individual 

truckers, had prevented a repeat of the September ambush. The enemy suffered 

forty-one killed and four wounded and captured.20

Less than two weeks later, the enemy tried again to destroy a 54th convoy. 

On 4 December, a company-size enemy force ambushed an eastbound convoy 

returning from Pleiku. This convoy consisted of six serials, totaling fifty-eight 

5-ton trucks and eleven 21⁄2-ton trucks. A gun truck led each serial. The attack 

began when a rocket-propelled grenade struck the lead gun truck. It killed the 

driver, wounded the crew, and halted the first serial. As the enemy made several 

attempts to reach the cargo trucks, the remaining five gun trucks drove into the 

3,000-meter-long kill zone and opened suppressive fire on the enemy. Rockets 

struck and disabled two more of the gun trucks, wounding the crews. The 

crews of all gun trucks, including the disabled vehicles, continued to deliver 

a heavy fire on the enemy. Calls for assistance to nearby tactical units by the 

convoy commander resulted in the arrival of several helicopter gunships, but 

the enemy had withdrawn, leaving behind thirteen dead and one wounded. U.S 

forces suffered one trucker killed and six wounded. The enemy destroyed one 

gun truck and slightly damaged four cargo trucks. In this attack, gun trucks 

had suppressed enemy fire and driven off the attack. The actions of the gun 

trucks had demonstrated that they could reduce convoy losses significantly 

while inflicting increased damage on the enemy. In the ambushes in late 1967 

and early 1968, the enemy had opened fire on the first vehicles in the convoy, 

the gun trucks. However, in subsequent ambushes, the enemy modified his 

tactics by allowing the gun trucks to pass through the kill zone and waiting 

to attack the cargo trucks.21

During 1968, the 54th Transportation Battalion continued to refine the 

gun truck concept. In a major change, it began to armor-plate five-ton cargo 

trucks and convert them into gun trucks.22 The “deuce-and-a half” lacked the 

20 Bellino, 8th Transportation Group.

21 HQ, 8th Transportation Gp (Motor Transport), Operational Report for Quarterly Period 

Ending 31 January 1968, RCS CSFOR-65, 15 Feb 68. 22 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report of the 54th Transportation Battalion 

(Truck) WFR6AA, for the Period Ending 31 October 1968, 6SFOR-65 (R-1), 3 Nov 68.
236 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

horsepower to handle the additional weight of armor, sandbags, and weapons. 

Also the 21⁄2-ton trucks were frequently in the motor pool for repairs because 

the extra weight put too much strain on the vehicles. Although superior to the 

21⁄2-ton truck, the widespread use of the 5-ton as a convoy security vehicle 

reduced the number of cargo trucks available for line haul operations.

Another change in gun-truck design modified the armor on some gun 

trucks by adding double-walled “box” structures to the beds. In theory, the 

double-wall acted as a protection against enemy rockets. Supposedly, incoming 

rockets would detonate on contact with the outer wall, causing the resulting 

fragments to bounce harmlessly off the inner wall, never reaching the crew. 

Soldiers kept extra weapons, tools, extra wheels and tires, water, and a fire 

extinguisher between the walls. Thus, the gun trucks served not only as 

security vehicles but also as maintenance trucks, capable of protecting and 

restarting disabled vehicles on potentially dangerous sections of highway.23

Some transportation companies, not always able to obtain armor plate, had 

the hulls of armored personnel carriers stripped and placed in the beds of gun 

trucks. However, the increased height of these gun trucks resulted in their 

being top-heavy and difficult to control on the highway, and the extra weight 

of the armored hull increased maintenance problems.

Crews often replaced the M60 machine gun on gun trucks with the 

heavier .50-caliber M2 machine gun, either alone or on multiple mounts. In 

some cases, they added multibarreled 7.62-mm. miniguns. These miniguns, 

designed to provide a high rate of fire, sprayed out either 2,000 or 4,000 rounds 

per minute.

Another gun-truck development involved communication. At first, gun 

trucks did not have radios and, therefore, operated on their own orders or under 

verbal orders of the convoy commander, which could be difficult during an 

ambush. The battalion attempted to remedy this by placing PRC–25 radios 

in each gun truck, which, again in theory, enabled gun trucks to maintain 

constant communication with the convoy commander and other gun trucks. 

This allowed all gun trucks to be alerted instantly to mines and ambushes 

and to coordinate responses. However, the PRC–25 radios continued to have 

maintenance problems—of the ten radios in the battalion, only five usually 

operated at any given time.24

The gun-truck crews had by now become proficient in protecting their 

fellow drivers on the highways. When then enemy attempted to ambush 

and stop a convoy on Route 19 in August 1968, two gun trucks halted in the 

23 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report of the 54th Transportation 

Battalion (Truck) WFR6AA, for the Period Ending 30 April 1970, (RCS CSFOR-65) (R-1), 

2 May 70. 24 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report of the 54th Transportation 

Battalion (Truck) WFR6AA, for the Period Ending 31 July 1968, 6SFOR-65 (R-1), 1 Aug 68.
Lessons Learned and Relearned 237

kill zone and drove the enemy off. Although five cargo vehicle drivers were 

wounded, the convoy never halted.25

The gun-truck crews consisted, for the most part, of truckers and maintenance personnel who had been assigned or had volunteered for convoy security 

duty. Even as casualties among the crews mounted, morale remained high, 

as the men were bound by wartime esprit de corps. As the Hardened Convoy 

Concept spread to other transportation battalions, many of the gun-truck crews 

donned shoulder insignia and pocket tabs, indicating their roles as drivers and 

gunners. The gun-truck crews also began to paint their vehicles an intimidating 

black, with bright red, orange, yellow, or white trim. They painted colorful 

names on their vehicles, reminiscent of the American bombers of World War 

II. Names often reflected the popular culture of the time. For example, “Iron 

Butterfly” was named after a rock band, “The Untouchables” and “The Bounty 

Hunter” after popular TV shows, “Road Runner” for the animated cartoon 

character, “Godzilla” after the movie monster, and “Eve of Destruction” for 

a lyric in a popular song. Other names included “Ho Chi’s Hearse,” “VC 

Undertaker,” “Highland Raiders,” and “Old Ironsides.”

Awards such as the Silver Star medal and Bronze Star medal with the 

“V,” for valor, device, as well as Purple Hearts, became common among the 

gun-truck crews as they continued to place themselves between the truckers 

and the enemy. The personal bravery and fighting spirit of the gun-truck 

crews, along with their quick reaction to ambush situations, saved the lives 

of many truckers. 

Specs. Dallas Mullins of the 444th Transportation Company and Larry G. 

Dahl of the 359th Transportation Company exemplified this courage. When the 

enemy wounded the driver of Mullins’ gun truck during a highway ambush, 

the vehicle stalled in the center of the enemy kill zone and was subjected to 

intense small arms fire. Even though Mullins was also wounded (twice in 

the arm and once in the leg), he came to the aid of the wounded driver and 

maneuvered the truck out of the line of fire. During a 1971 ambush on Route 

19 near An Khe, Dahl was a gunner on a gun truck called to assist other gun 

trucks involved in a convoy ambush. After driving off the enemy force, and 

as the gun trucks left the area, an enemy soldier tossed a hand grenade in the 

back of Dahl’s truck. Dahl called a warning to his companions and threw 

himself directly onto the grenade. For their unselfish acts, Mullins earned the 

Silver Star, and Dahl, posthumously, the Medal of Honor.26

From late 1967 to the withdrawal of U.S. combat forces in 1973, the 

gun trucks continued to prowl the highways of Vietnam, protecting truckers 

and their cargo. With the end of the Vietnam War, the U.S. Army turned its 

attention from conducting major counterinsurgency operations. Instead, the 

25 HQ, 54th Transportation Bn (Truck), Operational Report of the 54th Transportation Battalion 

(Truck) WFR6AA, for the Period Ending 31 October 1968, 6SFOR-65 (R-1), 3 Nov 68. 26 U.S. Congress, Senate, Committee on Veterans’ Affairs, Medal of Honor Recipients: 

1863–1978 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1979). 
238 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Army concentrated on a possible ground war in Europe against Soviet armored 

columns, a battlefield with front lines, which obviated the need for gun trucks. 

As the years passed and the number of Vietnam veterans decreased in active 

service, the institutional memory of the Vietnam gun trucks faded. Almost 

forty years later, in Iraq, the U.S. Army truckers found themselves in a situation 

similar to that of their Vietnam predecessors. Once again, truckers converted 

cargo vehicles into armored fighting vehicles.

Today, “Eve of Destruction”—the only remaining example of the Vietnam 

gun trucks—rests quietly among the static displays at Fort Eustis, Virginia. 

Converted from a five-ton cargo truck of the 523d Transportation Company, 

Eve is armed with four .50-caliber machine guns. The truck provided daily 

route security in the Central Highlands and along the coast for three years 

before participating in the Cambodian incursion. During that operation, the 

vehicle escorted convoys from Qui Nhon to the Cambodian border, and the 

entire crew earned the Bronze Star for outstanding performance in protecting 

supply columns from enemy attacks. In January 1971, Eve led elements of 

the 8th Transportation Group north into I Corps Tactical Zone to participate 

in Operation Lam Son 719, the South Vietnamese invasion of Laos. Day and 

night, convoys to Khe Sanh and the Laotian border exposed Eve to numerous 

enemy attacks during the operation, but the gun truck never failed in its mission. 

Eve made its final run on 8 June 1971. Aware of the historical importance 

of the vehicle, the commander of the 523d Transportation Company had the 

vehicle shipped to the Transportation Museum at Fort Eustis. Now, far from 

the sounds of battle, the armored truck silently reminds those who view it of 

the innovation and old-fashioned American ingenuity of a previous generation 

of truckers, and the courage and sacrifice of transportation personnel who 

fought and sometimes died on the highways of Vietnam.
Some Observations on Americans Advising 

Indigenous Forces

Robert D. Ramsey III

In February 2006, the Combat Studies Institute (CSI) initiated a review of 

past United States Army efforts to build foreign armies. A month later, when the 

Department of Defense published its Quadrennial Defense Review Report and 

the Army began to centralize adviser training at Fort Riley, Kansas, CSI decided 

to refocus the study to field advisers in Korea, Vietnam, and El Salvador.1

With the proliferation of advisory teams in Afghanistan and Iraq, the intent 

of the study was to investigate advisory duty from the perspective of advisers 

who worked face-to-face with host-nation personnel at the lowest levels on 

a daily basis—specifically, those serving in combat units or in pacification 

positions. CSI published this study as Occasional Paper (OP) 18, Advising 

Indigenous Forces: American Advisors in Korea, Vietnam, and El Salvador, 

in early September 2006.2 In October, CSI followed with the publication of OP 

19, Advice for Advisors: Suggestions and Observations from Lawrence to the 

Present, an anthology of readings from selected research materials gathered 

in the writing of Advising Indigenous Forces.

3

 The following comments are 

based on these two research efforts.

To gain an understanding of the challenges that advisers face, Advising 

Ingenious Forces surveyed three American advisory experiences—Korea, 

Vietnam, and El Salvador. Korea, as a first major combat advisory effort, 

provided insights from a three-year conventional war experience working with 

the newly created South Korean Army. The United States Military Advisory 

Group to the Republic of Korea (KMAG) reached a maximum strength of 

2,866 in 1953.4 Vietnam, the largest and longest American advisory effort, 

provided a twelve-year combat and counterinsurgency experience working with 

a weak, but combat-experienced, South Vietnamese Army. Military Assistance 

1 Department of Defense, Quadrennial Defense Review Report (Washington, D.C.: 

Department of Defense, 6 February 2006). 2Robert D. Ramsey III, Advising Indigenous Forces: American Advisors in Korea, Vietnam, 

and El Salvador (Fort Leavenworth, Kans.: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2006). 3Robert D. Ramsey III, Advice for Advisors: Suggestions and Observations from Lawrence 

to the Present (Fort Leavenworth, Kans.: Combat Studies Institute Press, 2006). 4Alfred H. Hausrath, The KMAG Advisor: Roles and Problems of the Military Advisor in 

Developing an Indigenous Army for Combat Operations in Korea (Chevy Chase, Md.: Johns 

Hopkins University Operations Research Office, February 1957), p. 95.
240 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

Command, Vietnam (MACV), advisers served with combat units and on 

pacification advisory teams at the province and district level and on mobile 

advisory teams (MATs). To fill MACV adviser positions in 1968 required 

the Army to provide over seven division equivalents of officers and senior 

noncommissioned officers.5 At a maximum strength of 14,332 advisers in 1970, 

MACV had almost 1,000 advisers working with regimental-and-below combat 

units and almost 8,000 advisers serving with pacification advisory teams.6 El 

Salvador permitted a look at advising a limited, long-term counterinsurgency 

effort with an army without combat experience. Limited to fifty-five advisers in 

country, the six brigade-level operations, plans, and training teams (OPATTs) 

required a total of eighteen advisers.7 Korea, Vietnam, and El Salvador each 

offered a unique experience; yet, the fundamental problem faced by field 

advisers—how to establish and maintain an effective working relationship with 

their counterparts to improve military effectiveness in addressing host-nation 

security problems—remained constant. 

Adviser roles and duties evolved, particularly in Vietnam. For combat 

unit advisers—even KMAG—training, teaching, coaching, liaison, observing, 

tactical advising, and providing combat support were relatively straightforward, 

basic military tasks complicated by linguistic, cultural, and institutional 

challenges. After the increase of American military personnel in Vietnam in 

1965, MACV combat unit advisers focused on coordinating American combat 

support assets, being liaisons with American units, and monitoring the status 

of their Vietnamese units. Over time, the tactical advisory effort in Vietnam 

evolved from training to tactical advice to combat support.8 Counterinsurgency 

civil-military duties proved a complex, difficult task for pacification advisers 

in Vietnam—something often beyond their training, experience, and expertise. 

In 1990, the monitoring of human rights abuses had become an OPATT 

responsibility in El Salvador.9 In each of the case studies, monitoring the status 

and actions of host-nation forces became an implied, if not specified, task.

At the lower levels, American military assistance and advisory groups 

(MAAGs) had to obtain results with a minimal number of personnel—normally 

five or less per team. Although regulations authorized advisers at the infantry 

battalion level, personnel shortages limited KMAG advisers to the infantry 

regiment and above.10 The standard KMAG regimental advisory team consisted 

5 Bruce Palmer Jr., The 25 Year War: America’s Military Role in Vietnam (Lexington: 

University of Kentucky Press, 1984), p. 178. 6 Jeffrey J. Clarke, Advice and Support: The Final Years, 1965–1973 (Washington, D.C.: 

U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1988), pp. 372–73. 7Cecil E. Bailey, “OPATT: The U.S. Army SF Advisers in El Salvador,” Special Warfare

(December 2004): 21. 8Clarke, Advice and Support: The Final Years, pp. 60–61. 9 Mark A. Meoni, “The Advisor: From Vietnam to El Salvador” (Master’s thesis, U.S. 

Army Command and General Staff College, 1992), p. 90. 10 Robert K. Sawyer, Military Advisors in Korea: KMAG in Peace and War (Washington, 

D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1962), p. 58.
Americans Advising Indigenous Forces 241

of two officers and two noncommissioned officers.11 In Vietnam, the infantry 

regiment advisory team consisted of one officer and two noncommissioned 

officers. Commanded by a captain, MACV infantry battalion advisory teams 

(and initially the district advisory teams) were authorized two officers and three 

noncommissioned officers.12 Working to upgrade Vietnamese local security 

forces as part of the pacification effort, MATs commanded by a captain had 

five Americans and two Vietnamese, one as an interpreter.13 In El Salvador, 

after mid-1985, the brigade OPATT consisted of a combat arms major and 

two senior Special Forces personnel—noncommissioned or warrant officers.14

By design, commanders of advisory teams were at least one rank below the 

host-nation commander they advised. Because of personnel shortages, it was 

common for advisory team commanders to be a rank below that authorized 

for the position. As an example, Once a Warrior King is a firsthand account 

of an infantry first lieutenant in Vietnam who commanded a MAT, in lieu 

of a captain, before becoming a district senior adviser in lieu of a major.15

Although most Americans were unconcerned about these differences in rank, 

the same was not true for their host-nation counterparts, who were extremely 

sensitive to rank differences.

While American advisory teams seem small given their tasks, a British 

counterinsurgency expert believed in the “need on the military side to keep 

the presence of foreign military advisors to the minimum. If things are not 

going right, it is most unlikely that the solution will be found merely by 

increasing the quantity of advisors. This is liable to be counterproductive and 

can reach the point at which advice begins to revolve on a closed circuit.”16

Often, more advice proved less effective, particularly when it was more of 

the same provided by inexperienced advisers who frequently rotated in and 

out of positions because of short tours of duty or assignment policies. Field 

advisory teams were small, frequently understrength, and normally filled with 

less than fully qualified members. 

One would think that the limited number of advisers at each level and 

the numerous tasks expected of them during wartime—not to mention the 

alien environment in which they worked—would require some special 

selection process to identify those qualified for advisory duty. That was 

not the case. With the exceptions of province and district senior advisers 

for a short time toward the end of the Vietnam conflict, officers selected 

11 Hausrath, The KMAG Advisor, p. 96. 12 Clarke, Advice and Support: The Final Years, p. 57; HQ, U.S. Military Assistance 

Command, Vietnam (MACV), Command History, 1965, 20 Apr 66, pp. 76–77. Hereafter cited 

as MACV, Command History, date. 13 MACV, Command History, 1970, vol. 2, p. VII-67.

14 Bailey, “OPATT: The U.S. Army SF Advisers in El Salvador,” p. 21.

15 David Donovan, Once a Warrior King: Memories of an Officer in Vietnam (New York: 

Ballantine, 1985). 16 Robert Thompson, Defeating Communist Insurgency: The Lessons of Malaya and 

Vietnam (New York: Praeger, 1966), p. 165.
242 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

for the Military Assistance Officer Program (MAOP), and some advisers 

in El Salvador, the Army considered advisory duty a routine assignment 

that anyone could perform.17 If a person met rank and branch qualification 

requirements and was eligible for an overseas tour, he was suited for 

advisory duty. If he volunteered, so much the better. In Korea, KMAG 

attracted few volunteers, but, in Vietnam prior to 1965, volunteers were 

common. With the buildup of American forces in 1965, increased demand 

for branch-qualified personnel and lower priority for advisory duty 

meant—just as it had in Korea—that inexperienced but enthusiastic junior 

officers often filled advisory positions. When demand exceeded supply, the 

Army waived the rank, branch, and experience requirements. In October 

1970, two years after the establishment of captain-commanded MATs, 

only eighty captains headed the 487 teams.18 In El Salvador, where adviser 

requirements emphasized Special Forces experience, prior service in the 

region, and Spanish-language capability, the general policy was that anyone 

who spoke Spanish and had served in Latin America could do advisory 

duty. Even when the military group in El Salvador (MILGRP) reduced 

the language requirement, the demand for five qualified OPATT chiefs 

exceeded the capacity of the Special Forces branch in 1990.19 Advisory 

duty, despite comments from senior leaders, was never a top priority.

Only in Vietnam did advisers attend formal training courses prior to 

their assignments. In Korea, branch qualification was considered adequate. 

In El Salvador, language skills, regional experience, and a Special Forces 

background qualified a soldier for advisory duty. During Vietnam, a six-week 

military assistance training and advisory (MATA) course taught at Fort Bragg, 

North Carolina, focused on language, culture, and advisory skills rather than 

military skills.20 The MATA course merely introduced and familiarized 

advisers with the challenges they would face. A MATA course instructor 

spoke of his student experience: “I left the MATA course knowing that this 

was going to be a very different experience . . . [and] prepared . . . not to 

expect everything I would face, but to expect that I was going to be immersed 

in a very different culture and adapting to that culture and understanding it 

was going to be complicated.”21 Provincial senior advisers, district senior 

17 Department of the Army (DA), AR 614–134, Military Assistance Officer Program 

(MAOP) 20 June 1971; Edwin E. Erickson and Herbert H. Vreeland, 3d, Operational and 

Training Requirements of the Military Assistance Officer (McLean, Va.: Human Services 

Research, May 1971). 18 MACV, Command History, 1970, vol. 2, p. VII-67.

19 Bailey, “OPATT: The U.S. Army SF Advisers in El Salvador,” pp. 21–22.

20 U.S. Army Special Warfare School, Program of Instruction for Military Assistance 

Training Advisory Course (MATA) (Fort Bragg, N.C.: U.S. Army Special Warfare School, 

April 1962). 21 Interv, Shelby Sears with Anthony C. Zinni, 29 Jun 2004, p. 6, John A. Adams ‘71 Center 

for Military History and Strategic Analysis Cold War Oral History Project, Virginia Military 

Institute, available at www.vmi.edu/archives/Adams_Center/ZinniAC/ZinniAC_intro.asp.
Americans Advising Indigenous Forces 243

advisers, and those selected for MAOP—personnel involved directly in 

pacification—received longer language and special training toward the end 

of Vietnam. However, just as in Korea, “in both the cases of Vietnam and 

El Salvador, military planners were not worried about attendance to advisor 

courses that dealt with culture, language, or irregular warfare. It was the [MOS] 

schools that took priority.” 22 The Army considered military skills sufficient 

preparation for advisory duty. 

Not only was adviser training generally nonexistent or limited, in-country 

orientation and training for advisory personnel, with the exception of most 

advisers in Vietnam, proved haphazard. In Vietnam, unlike the other two 

cases, adviser field manuals and in-country handbooks provided guidance to 

advisers.23 During the Korean War, an adviser commonly reported directly to 

his KMAG team without any orientation. One KMAG adviser described his 

transition: “The officer I replaced met me at the rail-head (4 hours behind the 

division) turned his jeep over to me and gave me directions to the Division 

CP.”24 In mid-1953, KMAG issued for the first time the “Ten Commandments 

for KMAG Advisors,” the duties and responsibilities of KMAG advisers.25

Even in El Salvador, at least one OPATT chief read his orientation folders, 

went directly to his unit, and did not see the military group (USMILGP) 

commander for months.26

Interestingly, it is almost impossible to find a comment from an adviser in 

the three case studies where an adviser felt tactically, technically, or militarily 

unprepared for his duties—even those duties one or two levels above his 

rank and experience. It appeared that branch qualification, combined with 

American self-confidence, met the military requirements faced by most 

advisers. However, almost to a man, advisers mentioned the challenges 

posed by linguistic, cultural, and host-nation institutional barriers. It was in 

these areas—critical to an adviser’s effectiveness—that most advisers felt 

inadequately prepared. Although it is true that “there has never been a training 

program of instruction [POI] to prepare military advisors for duty that all those 

with an interest might agree was comprehensive and complete,” it seemed 

clear that topics that enhanced situational understanding were considered more 

useful by field advisers than those dealing with military skills.27

22 MOS stands for military cccupational specialty. Meoni, “The Advisor: From Vietnam 

to El Salvador,” p. 142. 23 DA Field Manual 31–73, Advisor Handbook for Counterinsurgency, April 1965; DA 

Field Manual 31–73, Advisor Handbook for Stability Operations, October 1967; HQ, MACV, 

Handbook for Military Support of Pacification, February 1968; HQ, MACV, rf / pf Advisor 

Handbook, January 1971. 24 Hausrath, The KMAG Advisor, p. 41. 25 Ibid., p. 15.

26 David L. Shelton, “Some Advice for the Prospective Advisor,” Marine Corps Gazette

(October 1991): 57. 27 Meoni, “The Advisor: From Vietnam to El Salvador,” p. 184.
244 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

T. E. Lawrence wrote in Seven Pillars of Wisdom, “I was sent to these 

Arabs as a stranger, unable to think their thoughts or subscribe their beliefs, 

but charged by duty to lead them forward and to develop to the highest 

any movement of theirs profitable to England in her war.”28 So it was with 

American advisers who worked in an alien, often hostile, environment in 

pursuit of American objectives. Generally, they lacked language skills, cultural 

knowledge, understanding of the host nation, and knowledge of the host-nation 

military. Each of these shortcomings created obstacles to understanding. 

Yet, the service expected advisers to produce results. They were to develop 

rapport—a close personal relationship—and to provide useful advice to their 

counterparts. Few advisers understood that empathy (being able to understand 

a problem from the perspective of their counterparts) would be critical to 

becoming an effective adviser.29 Fewer advisers possessed the knowledge, 

skills, and abilities to seek that perspective. A review of comments from 

advisers, their counterparts, and special studies provided insights into many 

of the challenges advisers confronted. 

Advisers worked in an alien environment; one that shared few things in 

common with many Americans. Most advisers lacked language skills; as a 

result, they were deaf—they could not understand what was said around them. 

In Korea, no field KAMG adviser spoke Hangul fluently. Advisers depended 

on Korean translators. In Vietnam, most MACV advisers received some basic 

language training, but they remained tied to Vietnamese translators. Even in El 

Salvador, where Spanish was required, few advisers were native speakers. Lack 

of language skills impaired communication. Interpreters helped, but marred 

communication meant frequent misunderstandings that were difficult to sort 

out without linguistic ability. Observations that “to surmount the language 

barrier the American advisor had to be an inventive teacher, combining 

enthusiasm and knowledge with patience and tact,” missed the point.30 The 

language barrier, even using interpreters, remained a significant obstacle to 

effective advising.

Not only did the language barrier hinder advisers, the cultural barrier did 

too. What passed for cultural awareness was generally descriptive, superficial, 

and stereotypical. Inability to understand what they observed meant that 

advisers were partially blind. A MACV adviser observed, “We did not 

understand what was going on in Vietnam. We were in a foreign land among 

people of a different culture and mindset. . . . The information sent across the 

cultural divide was not the information received. There was a disconnect. One 

thing was said and another thing was heard. One thing was meant and another 

28 T. E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph (New York: Anchor Books, 

1991), p. 30. 29 Irwing C. Hudlin, “Advising the Advisor,” Military Review (November 1965): 94–96. 30 Historical Rpt, Walter G. Hermes, Survey of the Development of the Role of the U.S. 

Military Advisor, Office of the Chief of Military History, 1965, p. 82, U.S. Army Center of 

Military History files, Washington, D.C.
Americans Advising Indigenous Forces 245

thing was understood. . . . Meaning, intent, and truth were lost in translation.”31

Even though “frequently the success of the advisor depended as much upon 

his behavior as upon his professional ability,” most advisers remained unaware 

of the impact that their actions and inactions had on their counterparts.32 At 

best, instruction and orientations made advisers aware of basic cultural issues. 

However, understanding the cultural what without knowing the more important 

cultural how and why locals did what they did created only an impression of 

understanding. Even with the training courses during Vietnam, an adviser 

found that the “linguistic and cultural barrier . . . was almost impossible for the 

advisor to breach”33 Inadequate language skills and lack of cultural knowledge 

made it difficult for an adviser to comprehend accurately the local situation or 

to understand that situation from the perspective of his counterpart.

Advisers worked where American goals, capabilities, limitations, 

techniques, procedures, and doctrines—not to mention linguistic, cultural, 

and institutional imperatives—were not those of the host nation. Sir Robert 

Thompson, Malaya veteran and British adviser in Vietnam, noted, “It is 

essential, therefore, for the advisor to look at everything from the local point 

of view and not to expect that the provision of aid will do more than provide 

the very limited benefits for which it was intended. He cannot expect that the 

threatened country will either organize itself or conduct its affairs on the same 

lines, or in accordance with the same standards, as those of the supporting 

power. The real point here, which is all the advisor can hope for, is to get the 

local government to function effectively and at least to take the necessary 

action itself, even if it is done in its own traditional way.”34 Although this 

appears obvious, the fact remained that many field advisers and their leaders 

failed to understand or accept that the American way was not the best or the 

only way to do things.

Just as the host nation was not the United States, so the host-nation military 

was not the American military. Its roles, goals, procedures, capabilities, and 

limitations were different. Advisers needed to understand these differences 

and their implications for working with their counterparts. Although desirous 

of American training and resources, no host-nation military wanted to become 

a small clone of the American military. At best, it wanted to improve its 

combat effectiveness. In 1965, a RAND study recommended that “the advisor 

must learn to recognize and evaluate the relative role of his counterpart in the 

Vietnamese military’s social structure, his freedom of action and of expression, 

31 Martin J. Dockery, Lost in Translation: VIETNAM, A Combat Advisor’s Story (New 

York: Ballantine, 2003), p. 93. 32 Hermes, Survey of the Development of the Role of the U.S. Military Advisor, pp. 

82–83. 33 Stuart A. Herrington, Silence Was a Weapon: The Vietnam War in the Villages (Novato, 

Calif.: Presidio Press, 1982), p. 191. (Available in paperback as Stalking the Vietcong: Inside 

Operation Phoenix, A Personal Account). 34 Thompson, Defeating Communist Insurgency, p. 161.
246 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

before he can develop a useful working relationship with him.”35 Cultural and 

institutional differences were barriers that a senior MACV adviser suggested 

that advisers “must take . . . always into account. This seems like gratuitous 

advice . . . [but it was often] ignored by the complacent advisor who has his 

counterpart ‘all figured out’—by American standards—and then is astounded 

when his counterpart does something ‘entirely out of character.’”36 It proved 

relatively simple to train tactical skills, but almost impossible to make deeper 

institutional changes without host-nation support, as provided in Korea. But 

even there in the end, just as in Vietnam and El Salvador, the Korean army 

remained uniquely Korean, despite its American structure, training, and 

equipment.

Because of the alien environment described above and the frequent 

turnover of advisers, many counterparts were resistant—indifferent at best, 

if not hostile—to their advisers’ attempts to establish a close relationship. 

Without personal and institutional reasons to bond, and given the short-term 

focus of inexperienced junior American advisers serving brief assignments, 

rapport was easier to discuss than establish. Most host-nation commanders 

had combat experience, had worked with numerous advisers, had seniority 

in rank, and had command responsibility for their units. This meant that they 

seldom shared the enthusiasm, immediate focus, and myriad of projects, 

many of questionable utility, of their adviser. Many considered advisers 

arrogant and pushy. Host-nation commanders believed that mutual trust 

and respect, as well as an open, honest willingness to work together, were 

more important traits for an adviser than military competence.37 Many did 

not find these qualities in their American advisers. To be effective, advisers 

needed interpersonal and intercultural skills more than military skills. 

When lower-level advisers provided their counterparts with something they 

needed—such as combat support assets in Korea and Vietnam, or pacification 

assets in Vietnam—a counterpart had an incentive to work with his adviser. 

Rapport, as noted by both advisers and counterparts, was not permanent. It 

could easily be damaged by a misunderstanding compounded by linguistic, 

cultural, personal, or institutional differences, as well as honest disagreement 

on an issue. 

Rapport was merely a prerequisite for successful advising. It was, as 

an adviser noted, “only the prelude to his major objective: inspiring his 

counterpart to effective action.”38 This required the adviser to provide 

useful advice, something that made sense to his counterpart. For the 

host-nation commander, the advice had to fit his needs, be within his 

capabilities, be relevant to his specific problem, and be communicated 

35 Gerald C. Hickey, The American Military Advisor and His Foreign Counterpart: The 

Case of Vietnam (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND Corp., March 1965), p. 14. 36 Bryce F. Denno, “Advisor and Counterpart,” Army (July 1965): 27–28. 37 Hausrath, The KMAG Advisor, pp. 28–30. 38 Denno, “Advisor and Counterpart,” p. 26.
Americans Advising Indigenous Forces 247

clearly and convincingly. When the counterpart understood, accepted, 

and was willing to act on the advice in a timely manner, the adviser had 

performed his job. For many advisers, this proved problematic, given 

inadequate understanding of the language, cultural issues, host-nation 

military institutional norms or procedures, and local conditions. Advisers 

often misunderstood or were ignorant of important things. 

So what can we say about the American advisory efforts in Korea, 

Vietnam, and El Salvador? First, in each case, the response was ad hoc. When 

an unanticipated requirement arose, the Army established procedures, applied 

resources, obtained mixed results, and then forgot the experience. Second, 

advisory duty was a supporting effort that produced mixed results. Third, 

field advisory teams were small and frequently undermanned. Fourth, any 

soldier with the required military specialty and rank was considered qualified 

for advisory duty, although rank and other requirements were often waived. 

Fifth, language and culture training was not deemed critical for advisory 

duty—military skills were of primary importance. And last, advisory duty was a 

short-term, one-time assignment for most personnel. Despite these experiences 

and numerous special studies, each time a requirement for advisers arose, it 

was addressed as if it were a new phenomenon. This meant, in the words of a 

senior MACV adviser, that in each case, “All too often insight is gained too 

late, and through adverse experience.”39

What can be taken away from a survey about these three American advisory efforts? First, it is a difficult job. Working effectively with indigenous 

forces may be the most difficult military task. Second, not everyone can do 

advisory duty well. Advisers should be carefully screened and selected. Third, 

advisers should receive in-depth training about the host nation, its history, 

its culture, and its language. Without such training, situational awareness is 

almost impossible. Fourth, adviser training should focus on advisory duties 

and harnessing host-nation institutions, organizations, procedures, capabilities, and limitations. It should not focus on U.S. solutions to host-nation 

problems. Fifth, longer, repetitive tours by specially selected and well-trained 

advisers enhance the development of rapport with host-nation counterparts. 

Lastly, no matter how capable field advisers are, their success depends upon 

the support structure established between the host nation and their U.S. chain 

of command.40 Paraphrasing Lawrence’s 1933 comment to Liddell Hart that 

“with 2,000 years of examples behind us we have no excuse, when fighting, 

for not fighting well,”41 Advising Indigenous Forces concludes, “since the 

beginning of World War II, with over 65 years of American examples behind 

39 HQ, Delta Regional Assistance Command, Vietnam, Senior Officer Debriefing of Maj 

Gen John H. Cushman, RCS CSFOR-74 (14 January 1972), p. 2. 40 Ramsey, Advising Indigenous Forces, pp. 114–17. 41 Jeremy Wilson, Lawrence of Arabia: The Authorized Biography of T. E. Lawrence (New 

York: Atheneum, 1990), p. 908.
248 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

us, we have no excuse, when advising, for not advising well.”42 It remains 

to be seen if the U.S. military will continue to follow an ad hoc approach 

as it did in these three case studies, or if it will accept the lessons from past 

advisory efforts in order to be able to advise well. 

42 Ramsey, Advising Indigenous Forces, p. 118.
Contributors

Ted Ballard served as a historian with the U.S. Army Center of Military 

History from 1980 until his retirement in 2004. In 1984–1986, he was 

a member of the 116th Military History Detachment, Virginia Army 

National Guard, and in 1986–1989 he was the assistant division historian 

with the Virginia Defense Force. Ballard served in the U.S. Army from 

1965 to 1967, spending 1967 in Vietnam with the 523d Transportation 

Company.

Frederic L. Borch retired from the Army after twenty-five years as a judge 

advocate and is now the regimental historian and archivist for the Army 

Judge Advocate General’s Corps. He received his M.A. in history from 

the University of Virginia and his J.D. from the University of North 

Carolina.

Lt. Col. John A. Boyd, Ph.D., is the command historian for the 81st Regional 

Readiness Command, U.S. Army Reserve. He did his undergraduate work 

at Vanderbilt University, earned his M.Ed. and M.A. in history from the 

University of Cincinnati, and received his Ph.D. from the University of 

Kentucky in 1999. At the University of Kentucky, he specialized in Civil 

War–era sectionalism and did minor work in Middle East history. Boyd’s 

first military deployment as a historian was in support of Operation Joint

Endeavor, the U.S.-NATO effort in Bosnia. His most recent deployment 

(2005–2006) was as the command historian for the Multi-National ForceIraq, Baghdad. 

Richard Carrier attended Laval University where he obtained his Ph.D. in 

international history. From 1996 to 2007, he was a senior lecturer at the 

Saint-Jean Campus of the Royal Military College of Canada. In January 

2008, he became assistant professor at the Royal Military College of 

Canada in Kingston, where he teaches courses on the history of the Second 

World War and on the history of international relations between 1945 and 

1991. Carrier’s research interests mainly focus on the history and sociology 

of military institutions, the history of war in Europe since 1789, and the 

political and military history of Italy in the twentieth century.

Kendall D. Gott retired from the U.S. Army in 2000 having served as an 

armor and military intelligence officer. His combat experience consists of 

the Persian Gulf War and two bombing campaigns against Iraq. A native 
250 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

of Peoria, Illinois, he received his B.A. in history from Western Illinois 

University, and a master’s of military art and science from the U.S. Army 

Command and General Staff College. Before returning to Kansas in 2002, 

he was an adjunct professor of history at Augusta State University and the 

Georgia Military College. Gott joined the staff of the U.S. Army Combat 

Studies Institute at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in October 2002. As a senior 

historian, he heads the Research and Publications Team.

Chris Madsen is an associate professor in the Department of Defence Studies 

at the Royal Military College of Canada and the Canadian Forces College 

in Toronto. He obtained a Ph.D. in history from the University of Victoria 

in 1996 and was a Department of National Defence and Social Sciences 

and Humanities Research Council of Canada postdoctoral fellow at the 

University of Calgary until 1999. He currently teaches strategy and history 

to professional military officers in a staff college environment. Madsen has 

authored and edited several books and journal articles, including Another 

Kind of Justice: Canadian Military Law from Confederation to Somalia

(University of British Columbia Press, 1999) and Kurt Meyer on Trial: 

A Documentary Record (Canadian Defence Academy Press, 2007). His 

latest work is titled Military Law and Operations. 

Robert M. Mages is the chief of Oral History, U.S. Army Military History 

Institute, Army Heritage and Education Center, Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. He holds an M.A. in modern European history from Washington 

State University.

Maj. (Ret.) Steven J. Rauch has served as the U.S. Army Signal Center command historian since August 2002. He received his M.A. in history from 

Eastern Michigan University and holds an M.S. in adult and continuing 

education from Kansas State University. He specializes in American colonial and early national U.S. military history, nineteenth-century European 

history, and general military history. Rauch served as an assistant professor 

of history at the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, where 

he taught the history of modern warfare and early U.S. military history. 

He served in the U.S. Army as an ordnance officer and retired from active 

duty in 2002. 

Robert D. Ramsey III, a historian with the Combat Studies Institute at Fort 

Leavenworth, retired from the U.S. Army in 1993 after twenty-four years 

of service as an infantry officer that included tours in Vietnam, Korea, and 

the Sinai. He earned an M.A. in history from Rice University. Ramsey 

taught military history for three years at the United States Military Academy and six years at the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College. 

His publications include four Combat Studies Institute occasional papers 
Contributors 251

(OP)—OP 18, Advising Indigenous Forces: American Advisors in Korea, Vietnam, and El Salvador; OP 19, Advice for Advisors: Suggestions 

and Observations from Lawrence to the Present; OP 24, Savage Wars of 

Peace: Case Studies of Pacification in the Philippines, 1900–1902; and 

OP 25, Masterpiece of Counterguerrilla Warfare: BG J. Franklin Bell in 

the Philippines, 1901–1902.

Lt. Col. (Ret.) Mark J. Reardon, a senior historian at the U.S. Army Center 

of Military History, is the author of Victory at Mortain: Stopping Hitler’s 

Panzer Counteroffensive (University Press of Kansas, 2003), and coauthor 

of American Iliad: The 18th Infantry Regiment in World War II (Aberjona 

Press, 2004) and From Transformation to Combat: The First Stryker Brigade at War (U.S. Army Center of Military History, 2007)), as well as 

numerous magazine articles on subjects ranging from Lewis and Clark’s 

expedition to World War II in Europe. Reardon has appeared as a guest 

commentator on Oliver North’s “War Stories,” the History Channel, and 

the Military Channel.

Stephen I. Rockenbach is an assistant professor at Virginia State University 

in Petersburg, where he teaches courses on American history. He received 

his M.A. in history in 2000, and his Ph.D. in history in 2005, both from 

the University of Cincinnati. His publications include “A Border City 

at War: Louisville and the 1862 Confederate Invasion of Kentucky,” in 

Ohio Valley History, several entries in The Encyclopedia of Northern 

Kentucky, seven essays in the Gale Library of Daily Life: American Civil 

War (Gale Cengage, 2008), and numerous book reviews. His research 

interests include the border region during the Civil War, guerrilla warfare, 

emancipation, and the memory of the Civil War. Rockenbach is currently 

revising a manuscript that compares the wartime experience of citizens in 

Corydon, Indiana, and Frankfort, Kentucky.

Russell G. Rodgers has served with armor, infantry, and military intelligence 

during a varied U.S. Army career. He received his master’s degree with 

honors in land warfare from the American Military University and is currently an Army staff historian and adjunct professor at American Military 

University. He is the author of Historic Photos of General George Patton

(Turner Publishing, 2007) and has contributed a chapter on suicide bombers 

in Terrorism in the 21st Century: Unanswered Questions (Praeger, Fall 

2008). Rodgers is currently finishing a book on the asymmetric insurgency 

doctrine of the Prophet Muhammad.

Eric A. Sibul is in charge of military theory and military history programs at the 

Baltic Defence College in Tartu, Estonia. He is currently working on his Ph.D. 

dissertation at the University of York in the United Kingdom. His dissertation 
252 The U.S. Army and irregular warfare

examines rail transport in the Korean War and the relationship between the 

U.S. Army Transportation Corps and the Korean National Railroad. Sibul 

previously taught history and business administration at Central Texas College and Kutztown University of Pennsylvania.

Gregory J. W. Urwin holds his Ph.D. from the University of Notre Dame. 

He is a professor of history and associate director of the Center for the 

Study of Force and Diplomacy at Temple University. He has authored or 

edited eight books, including Custer Victorious: The Civil War Battles of 

General George Armstrong Custer (University of Nebraska Press, 1983), 

Black Flag over Dixie: Racial Atrocities and Reprisals in the Civil War

(Southern Illinois University Press, 2004), pictorial histories of the U.S. 

Cavalry and Infantry, and the prize-winning Facing Fearful Odds: The 

Siege of Wake Island (University of Nebraska Press, 2002). Urwin’s ninth 

book will explain why the Wake Island defenders emerged from prison 

camp with such a high survival rate. After that, he plans to write a social 

history of Cornwallis’ 1781 Virginia campaign.

Thijs W. Brocades Zaalberg is a research associate at the Netherlands 

Institute for Military History in The Hague. He previously worked as 

a defense analyst at the Clingendael Centre for Strategic Studies and is 

the author of Soldiers and Civil Power: Supporting or Substituting Civil 

Authorities in Modern Peace Operations (Amsterdam University Press, 

2006). He coauthored American Visions of the Netherlands-East Indies: 

U.S. Foreign Policy and Indonesian Nationalism, 1920–1949 (Amsterdam 

University Press, 2002). Brocades Zaalberg earned his Ph.D. in history 

from the University of Amsterdam. 
PIN : 085002–000