Chapter 9

Greg has the Narrative for a time:

We reappeared near the end of the small parking lot at the Guilford Courthouse National Military Park not far from the Visitor Center. The area immediately around us was covered in grass.

“This is the Guilford Courthouse National Military Park. It’s located north of Greensboro, N.C.,” I informed the women, indicating the general area around us... “It covers some 220 acres, but we won’t be traipsing through all of that,” I assured them with a smile. However, it was now past 1:30, and I was sure that we were all ready for lunch.

“Before we begin our tour of the battlefield, we should have something to eat. Therefore, I will transfer us to the Tannenbaum Historic Park, which is adjacent to the Military Park, and where there is a picnic area,” I told the ladies.

We were seated at a picnic table in the Tannenbaum Park enjoying the food that we had prepared from the rations in our backpacks, when Amelia had a question.

“What happened here? It’s apparently not a part of the National Military Park,” she asked.

“The Tannenbaum farm is where Cornwallis formed up his men in their battle lines before the battle to assault the American First Line of Defense. That’s why it’s not a part of the Military Park, as it wasn’t actually a part of the battle, but it’s important to the history of what happened here,” I explained.

Having finished our lunch and made use of the rest rooms at the Colonial History Center in Tannenbaum Park, I transferred us to the area in front of where the American First Defensive Line had been. I explained how the men had used the rail fences there for cover before describing what had occurred, and how the British had broken through the line that was composed mainly of militias from the Carolina’s with some regular troops on the ends of their line.

While the Military Park has an extensive system of foot and bike trails as well as a roadway covering much of the Park, I didn’t feel that we had the time or the desire to cover all of it today. Instead, I transferred us to the area of the Second Line of Defense in front of the monument to General Nathanael Greene who commanded the American troops, and explained what had occurred there with the mostly Virginia Militia units and the Continentals who had retreated in good order from the First Line.

“Was the area as wooded as it is presently?” Sylvia asked looking around at the many trees in this area, when I had finished.

“Yes, it was and that did contribute to some of the confusion and mistakes during the battle,” I told her before transferring us to the Third Defensive Line where the now reduced forces of Cornwallis fought Greene’s Continentals for many long minutes before the Patriots withdrew in good order leaving the field to the British, but at a horrendous cost to them. The British had suffered 93 killed and 413 wounded out of roughly 2,000 effective troops compared to the American losses of roughly 79 killed and 260 wounded out of roughly 4,000 effective troops.

“The British also had other problems. With their losses at Cowpens and now Guilford Courthouse in addition to Cornwallis’s destruction of most of his supplies for the sake of speed, he and his Army were forced to raid and pillage for provisions so that in a few weeks, he was forced to turn back to the coast, a withdrawal that put him on the road to Yorktown and defeat,” I finished.

While we inspected the remains of the foundation of the Guilford Courthouse near the Third Defensive Line, the ladies needed to use the rest room there, one of the few in the National Military Park (NMP).

I had transferred us from the NMP to the Greensboro Country Park which was adjacent to it, where I was explaining about the separate action that had taken place there when the Virginia Rifles and some of the Virginia Continentals along with Lee’s Legion Infantry and Lee’s Calvary had retreated when the First Defensive Line had broken. And that they had put up a strong defense against the British forces that had followed them, creating a separate battle, that actually lasted longer than the main battle.

I had nearly finished explaining what had occurred here when I sensed that those following us were approaching Greensboro. Since it was now well after 5:00 PM when the NMP had closed, and we were actually south of the NMP in the Greensboro Country Park, I was ready to inform the ladies that it was time to leave when Sylvia had another question.

“They moved all the way from the First Defensive Line to here? That’s a long way!” she observed looking back to the area of the First Defensive Line.

“Yes, it’s something like 750 yards, but they considered this a more defensible position. Back then the ground wasn’t the smooth and even area that you see here now,” I explained before changing subjects.

“But we need to leave, our pursuers are close by, and we don’t want to meet them,” I told the ladies.

“Where are we going?” Amelia asked.

“We’re going to Savannah, where the invasion of the Southern Colonies got under way. I know a very nice hotel there, where we will be very comfortable for the night,” I assured both of them before we joined hands, and I cast the transfer spell.

Gunther and Joey had made the return journey up Interstate 20 to Columbia as fast as they dared. It seemed that there were an unusually large number of Highway Patrolmen on the road that afternoon, and all of them appeared to have a good supply of speeding tickets from the number of vehicles that they saw being ticketed on the way to Columbia.

Arriving there, they made the now familiar transition to Interstate 77 for Charlotte, another familiar stretch of road. In Charlotte, they managed to miss the exit for Interstate 85, even though it was well signed and had been advertised for a number of miles. They needed to continue on I-77 to the next exit where they got off and returned to get on I-85 to head for Greensboro, some hundred miles away. Later, when they had past the High Point, NC exit ramp and were approaching mile marker 118 was when Chip called them on the phone.

“What took you guys so long?” Chip demanded first thing when Gunther answered the phone.

“There were a lot of cops on the Interstate, and we had to keep the speed down. Where is that asshole?” Gunther growled.

“He’s just north of Greensboro. I-85 will be joined by I-40 at exit 121. Stay on I-85 / I-40 to exit 124 and get off there to US 29. You’ll need to go five exits on US 29 and get off at Cone Blvd. I’ll direct you further from there,” Chip told them.

“You’re sure that he’s still there?” Gunther demanded.

“Yes, I was just looking at the screen. He has moved around a little, but is still in the same area. He’s been moving around there all afternoon,” Chip told them as they approached exit 121 and the junction with I-40.

“AW SHIT!” they both heard come from the phone, as they merged with traffic from I-40.

“What the hell does that mean?” Gunther demanded in a harsh voice.

“He just moved. I was looking at the screen, and one minute he’s there and the next second, he’s gone. It’ll take me a few minutes to find out where he went,” Chip told them in an upset voice.

“Pull off the Interstate at the next exit that has fuel and food,” Gunther told Joey in a disgusted voice.

“I’ll get back to you in a few minutes, after I locate him,” Chip told them and the phone went dead. Joey exited the Interstate at exit 124 and followed the signs to one of the fueling station. Gunther was out of the van as soon as it stopped.

“I’m going for beer,” he said and left Joey to fuel the van before joining him. The phone was ringing when they returned to the van some thirty minutes later.

“Where have you guys been?” Chip demanded.

“Busy! Where is he?” Gunther added in a growl.

“He’s in Savannah, and no, I have no idea how he does this,” Chip told them in a grouchy voice.

“Well, we ain’t going to Savannah. We been chasin’ this bastard all over three states, and we’re tired of it. We’re finding a hotel for the night here, and we’re coming back to Charleston tomorrow. If the Boss don’t like it, he can chase him all over the south himself. We’re done!” Gunther told him and disconnected before turning the phone off.

“The Boss is going to be pissed,” Joey told him, though he too was as tired of the chase as Gunther was.

“Too bad. We can always find a new job. I’m tired of running around in circles and never catching this guy. Besides at some point he has to go home to his house, and he’ll be easier to catch there,” Gunther told Joey.

We appeared at the secluded delivery entrance of a very fashionable hotel on West Oglethorpe Street in Savannah before walking around to the main entrance. On entering the lobby, we received some curious looks because of the way that we were dressed and our backpacks.

“Can I help you?” the clerk behind the registration desk asked on seeing us, sounding as if he had stepped in something nasty and still had it on the sole of his shoe.

“We’d like a suite for two nights,” I told him to a frown.

“I don’t know if we have a suite available,” he told me still with a frown, before he consulted his computer. I was ready to use a cooperation spell when I heard my name called.

“Gregory!” a loud voice called from across the lobby, and I turned to see who had called my name. I saw an older man of about my height, but a good bit heavier than I am in a blue suit with a very neatly trimmed beard approaching with a huge smile on his face.

“Fritz!” I answered with a smile of my own, as he approached, and we shook hands. Fritz was still as strong as a bear even though he was now 65, and I was careful to get my hand back without it being crushed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you in what ... six or eight years. Have you been camping?” he asked in his strong voice.

“Yes, we’ve spent a few days in North Carolina,” I told him. I could see that he was eyeing the ladies, so I introduced him to them.

“Ladies, this is Professor Fredrick Barton. He runs the Business School at UGA. I took my Masters Degree in business with him, some years ago,” I told them before turning back to Fritz.

“Fritz, this is Sylvia, a friend of mine. She’s a Veterinarian, and this other lady is Amelia. She is an English Lit major and my fiancee,” I told him to a surprised look from him.