{"id":187,"date":"2025-04-06T23:04:02","date_gmt":"2025-04-06T23:04:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/?page_id=187"},"modified":"2025-06-25T17:50:48","modified_gmt":"2025-06-25T17:50:48","slug":"my-patriot-ancestor-thomas-mcspadden-at-wetzells-mill-an-eyewitness-account-dictated-to-tracy-pounders-2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/?page_id=187","title":{"rendered":"My Patriot Ancestor: \u201cThomas McSpadden at Wetzell\u2019s Mill\u201d \u2013 An eyewitness account dictated to Tracy Pounders"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cThe rain had turned the roads to mud by the time I reached the banks of Reedy Fork Creek. It was March 6, 1781, and General Nathanael Greene had sent Colonel Otho Williams and my militia company from Washington County, Virginia northward to slow down Cornwallis\u2019s advancing British army.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWetzell\u2019s Mill was no grand fortress, just a humble crossing.  An old wooden bridge over a stubborn creek. But our commander is telling us that holding it is important, that it is worth our lives<\/em> to delay the British as long as we can. \u2018For every day the redcoats are delayed we get another day closer to gaining our freedom\u2019, <\/em>they tell us.<\/em> Of course, the arrogant British think nothing can stop or slow them, certainly not a bunch of farmers. Hah!<\/em> We know a tempest is coming our way, but we also know that we will prove them wrong in combat!<\/p>\n\n\n

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\u201cWaiting. Waiting<\/em>. Our commander tells us that the war will be coming to us soon, but for a while nothing happens. During this respite we have a little time, maybe too much time, to pray and reflect.  I look at myself.<\/em>  I don\u2019t have much meat on me but when I\u2019m home I have no problem cutting down a tree or leading a plow team.  Why am I here instead of on my farm?<\/em> I should be home working \u2013 there\u2019s so much to do! I left my sweet wife, Mary Amanda, to tend our farm and our kids by herself. What sort of man would do that?<\/em>  She says I serve in the militia because I\u2019m stubborn, whatever that means, but I\u2019m no more stubborn than any other farmer in Washington County.  She also kids me that I play soldier each year so I\u2019ll be away when the babies are born. Maybe she\u2019s right \u2013 I\u2019ve done my duty four other times in the past five years and each time a new baby greets me when I get home. My sweet Mary Amanda<\/em> \u2013 she was with child when I left.  Has the baby been born?  Is my sweet wife still alive?  I miss her so!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

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\u201cStop!<\/em> \u2013 no more time for idle thoughts or weakness \u2013 Listen!<\/em>  Drums thud in the distance. Death is coming<\/em>. The enemy\u2019s light infantry is marching towards us fast. Boots churn the wet ground. I crouch behind a tree just east of the crossing and stubbornly resolve to face whatever is thrown at me \u2013 no matter what. Musket fire!<\/em> The air quickly becomes thick with tension and black powder. But I stand firm as ordered.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe enemy surges toward the bridge.  I take my first shot, the musket bucking against my shoulder. A redcoat falls \u2014 did I kill him?<\/em> \u2014 and then the fight begins in earnest. Militia and Continentals unleash a blistering fire across the swollen creek, forcing the enemy to fight for every inch of ground.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\u201cI quickly find myself in the thick of it \u2014 reloading, firing, retreating by inches as ordered. Repeat and repeat and repeat<\/em>.  Maybe an hour in I see two boys I\u2019d shared breakfast with that morning \u2013 they\u2019re shot pretty bad but can still move \u2013 I provide cover the best I can.  I smile at one of the boys, he winks and nods back. One of my comrades, a rifleman from Augusta named Thomas Rodgers, sees me and gives cover while I help those two injured boys get to their feet and move away. With the boys moving back, me and Thomas held our ground with a prayer and two rounds each before we move back again as ordered. We do this over and over and over again.<\/em> A few hours later we make our final retreat as ordered and safely rejoin what\u2019s left of our militia company.  I wish I knew if those two boys survived the day, but I don\u2019t.<\/em> <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n

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\u201cWe had no hope of stopping the Redcoats from taking the field that day, but we made them pay a hefty price for it!  Later we found out that we\u2019d bought Gen. Greene precious time so he could regroup his army \u2014 our stubborn resolve and sacrifice bought our Good General a victory at Guilford Courthouse shortly afterward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI tell you this because what me and my comrades did that day didn\u2019t make the news \u2013 it was just a skirmish \u2013 for some time nobody talked about it at all. There were no medals,  no ribbons.  But we know what we know<\/em><\/strong>.<\/em> On that muddy morning at Wetzell\u2019s Mill we stood firm, held the line, and proved that small battles\u2014fought by lowly but stubborn farmers \u2014 can shape the course of a revolution.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

POSTSCRIPT<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n

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Thomas McSpadden survived the war.\u00a0 He returned to his home and Mary Amanda greeted him with a new son.\u00a0 Unfortunately we know very little about Mary Amanda except that she must\u2019ve loved Thomas very much \u2013 they had 12 children together.\u00a0 Later Thomas got a land grant on the \u2018Horseshoe Bend\u2019 of the Cumberland River.\u00a0 Their homestead was located where the Opryland Theme Park in Nashville TN is today.\u00a0 For many decades that part of the Cumberland River was known as \u2018McSpadden\u2019s Bend\u2019 and Thomas ran a store there.\u00a0 One of his regular customers was a young lawyer named Andrew Jackson who became a close friend of the family, especially to Thomas\u2019 younger brother, Samuel \u201cGunpowder\u201d<\/em> McSpadden \u2013\u00a0how Samuel got that nickname is<\/em> a great story<\/em>, but unfortunately that’s another tale for another day<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n

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PHOTO CREDIT: photos generated using ChatGPT.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe rain had turned the roads to mud by the time I reached the banks of Reedy Fork Creek. It was March 6, 1781, and General Nathanael Greene had sent […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":57,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-187","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/187","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=187"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/187\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":286,"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/187\/revisions\/286"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/57"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pounders.us\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=187"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}