Frederick Hambright—One of the militia commanders （actually a second-in-command to William Chronicle, who was killed early in the battle） who took part in the Battle of Kings Mountain was one Frederick Hambright, who had been a colonial officer prior and local patriot. I generally walk the battlefields I write about—often more than once. I’d walked Kings Mountain perhaps fifteen years ago but had a chance to do it again, more recently. On this occasion, I arrived late in the day and, having passed through the entrance lobby, was greeted by a park ranger whose name tag read Hambright. He told me that there was only an hour before the park closed, and I might not make it around the （circular） trail. I assured him I could—it’s less than a mile—and I did. I met him again on the way out and paused to say goodbye. We chatted for a bit and he told me that one of his ancestors had fought in the Battle of Kings Mountain. I thanked him and assured him I would mention his ancestor in the book—which I hadn’t yet begun writing. I remembered, though; I mean, “Hambright” isn’t a name you’d forget.
Benjamin Lincoln and narcolepsy—General Benjamin Lincoln was an important player in the Southern Campaign of the Revolution. He has the unfortunate distinction of having surrendered to the British four times, the last time （the Siege of Charles Town） having to surrender an entire army as prisoners. He’s also thought to have suffered from narcolepsy—an affliction wherein the sufferer frequently falls asleep without warning. This naturally can’t be documented for sure, but mention of it is common enough that I allowed him to be napping when Roger went looking for Francis Marion, just before the Battle of Savannah.
Francis Locke—The commander of the “Regiment of Militias” in North Carolina during the American Revolution. As you will have noted, reading this book, there were a lot of independent militia companies, owing to the irregular terrain and spotty distribution of people. It was Locke’s notion to bring all of these companies together so that they could work in concert— a notion that probably was better in concept than execution. The Regiment of Militias （or part of it） fought in only two small actions during the Revolution. As Jamie notes, distance and difficulties of communication made the regiment unsuitable for small emergencies and unwieldy for large occasions.
Francis Marion—aka “the Swamp Fox.” Francis Marion was a notable person in the Southern Campaign. Beginning as an independent commander of his own company （which might have been described as militia, but which also might have been described as freelance guerrilla raiders; he really did pursue and kill freed slaves who fought for the British, which—as Claire notes—is not something Disney chose to include in their show about him）， he later fought in a more orthodox fashion, as part of the Continental army, where he served as a lieutenant colonel and then a brigadier general.
Casimir （Kasimierz） Pulaski—A dashing and effective Polish cavalryman who volunteered to fight with the Continental army and became a general and the army’s Commander of Horse. Pulaski was killed in a risky charge during the Battle of Savannah—save that he didn’t die immediately. And there begins a series of mysteries that endures to the present day.
Pulaski was seriously wounded by grapeshot—shot in both the head and body （you see Roger attempting to stanch the bleeding on the battlefield, before Pulaski’s men came to get him）—but didn’t die immediately. He was seen briefly by a Continental surgeon, but then, at his own request—reportedly—he was put aboard the navy cutter Wasp （which was lurking nearby） and was taken out to sea, under the care of a different doctor. He died aboard the ship a day or so later, and his body was taken ashore. Reportedly, he was buried somewhere nearby, though his （presumably his） bones were later reburied under a monument in the city of Savannah （the monument is still there）。
This rather odd behavior might be explained by a twenty-first-century discovery, made when what were assumed to be Pulaski’s bones were removed temporarily during a renovation of the monument—and said bones were discovered to be those of （apparently） a woman.
Well, stranger things have happened; vide the recent stir when the lead coffin of （presumably） Simon Fraser, the Old Fox, was opened and proved to contain the body of a young woman. In this instance, though, it’s possible that the feminine-appearing bones may really have been those of Casimir Pulaski, as recent DNA analysis appears to indicate that the bones belonged to an “intersex” person or hermaphrodite.