Valley Forge: George Washington and the Crucible of Victory (12 page)

“Our regiment is camped yonder, sir,” and he gestured to the other side of the low ridge upon which he had planned to lay out fortifications.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He did not call for his horse, rather, he silently followed the men on foot across the field. In this period of pain and suffering he wanted to be on their level, working with them and talking with them. Horseback would have created too big a gap. He already towered over them by sheer height. The ground beneath his feet was a mix of trampled hay coated with ice and mud, making the footing somewhat slippery. The six men accompanying the captain fell in on either side of Washington, Lafayette, and Tilghman, trying to march like an honor guard. One of them was wearing new boots, well made, and Washington was tempted to offer a stern inquiry as to how the man had acquired them, but thought better of it. The others were shod with a mix of battered shoes, or they were barefoot, or had the ubiquitous canvas and burlap wrappings.

They crested the low rise and he slowed at the sight of what was before him…a log cabin, made to his directions, 10 × 14 feet, no shingles for roofing, covered instead with several tents, complete with a wattle and mud fireplace, chimney smoking.

Nearly a hundred men were drawn up before it, formed into two ranks, coming to attention as he approached, their colonel standing before them.

The colonel saluted as the general approached, and he returned the salute. “Sir, my regiment begs to proudly report we have completed the first cabin as per your orders.”

He gazed at them in the gathering twilight. In the fields beyond, clouds of roiling smoke from hundreds of campfires were drifting over the landscape while at the flickering fires men hunched around the feeble flames, those stuck on the south side coughing from the smoke. Some stood up and looked toward where he stood, but there were no defiant cries like those that had greeted him at midday. Anthony Wayne reported at mid afternoon that a dozen head of cattle had been brought in, along with twenty sheep. Maybe
half a pound of meat per man if every ounce of meat, bone, and innards were used, which they surely would be.

Half a pound of meat this night, all that stood between the army still being here come next morning or melting away during the night. And now this.

“Would you care to inspect it, sir?”

“It would be my honor, sir,” Washington replied formally, trying to hide the depth of emotion he was feeling.

The colonel led the way, pulling aside a tent half that served as the doorway, beckoning for him to enter.

The doorway was cut only five and a half feet high, forcing him to duck low, and once inside he could distinguish little in the darkness other than the flickering blaze at the far end, which actually cast a slight offering of warmth. Pegs to support cots had already been driven into the opposite walls, supporting either thin branches or a rough weaving of rope, bunk space for twelve men.

“I’ve assigned this to our sickest men; get them in out of the storm for the night, sir.”

“Of course, very good of you, Colonel. So this is the first?”

“Yes, sir. We thought the boys over with the Third would beat us to it, but my lads finished it an hour ago.”

“A noble accomplishment, Colonel.”

His words struck him as strange. “A noble accomplishment.” This single cabin a noble accomplishment? Yet in the long course of winning freedom, this simple construction might match any achievement of destruction on the field of battle. This was an effort at survival that might well allow the men, the army, and the nation to survive.

“Sir?”

He looked over at the colonel and sensed that now would come something else.

“Go on.”

“Sir. It took my entire regiment two days to build this one cabin. My entire regiment.”

He did not reply.

“Between us we had one axe, the blade worn down so my men said to sharpen it was futile, since it was nearly into the soft iron. Several hand axes, maybe a dozen or so light hatchets, a couple of shovels, and a pick. That’s all the tools I have, sir. And each log sir, we had to drag them from the woods a quarter-mile off. And that’s green wood, sir, and not enough rope to go around for the task.”

He nodded. “I’ll see that you have more tools tomorrow.”

The colonel started to speak but then fell silent, and Washington was grateful. He could sense that the man would break down. That with a hundred proper felling axes he could house his entire regiment in two more days. Instead, it would be weeks of suffering out in this weather before the task was done.

As he turned and left the cabin, he forced a pleasant and gracious expression. Again, the actor on the stage.

“I am proud of you, men,” he announced, loud enough so that all could hear. “You are an example for the entire army.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back to his tent. There was a call from someone for a “huzzah” for the general; the result was feeble, at best.

Tilghman and Lafayette fell in by his side.

“Sir, it is the first of many—it is a beginning,” offered Lafayette, ever the enthusiast.

Washington did not reply. One cabin for the entire army completed in two days. Nine hundred and ninety-nine more to go, along with several miles of entrenchments, two major forts, and half a dozen bastions, a bridge across the river behind them as a means of escape if this place were stormed, regimental streets to be laid out and corduroyed, a hospital for each brigade, a warehouse for supplies for each brigade…

He was proud of his ability to handle complex calculations in his head. As a young man he saw such as a means of training his mind. Then it prepared him to be a very good surveyor. Now it prepared him to be an effective commanding general. If tools, thousands of tools, were not found, it would be well into the next decade before this camp was complete.

And in the meantime the other calculations were before him. Six tons of fresh meat a day, six tons of flour, and all the other supplies needed to keep this army alive.

Darkness was settling on the encampment at Valley Forge, and he welcomed the end of this, the third day in this godforsaken place. Darkness at least would hide the frustration and fear he knew he could now barely conceal.

Valley Forge
December 24, 1777

Private Peter Wellsley shifted uncomfortably as the general approached. It was not just General Washington, but most of his staff as well—Major Tilghman, Major Hamilton, General Lafayette, and even General Greene. As they came up the walkway to the house, all eyes shifted to the lone private, now standing at attention in front of the door.

He raised his musket to the present position in salute. The general nodded, and there was a hint of a grin.

“Private, ah, Wellsman, isn’t it?” Washington asked.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, not daring to correct him.

“I must say you look much improved since I last saw you.”

Peter reddened, not sure how to reply.

“Though I daresay that, except for the jacket, your uniform is slightly un-orthodox.”

Peter stammered and could not reply. The trousers he was wearing were of finest doeskin, boots of a quality almost matching that of the general. His tricorner hat even had some silver braiding on it. The trousers and hat, though, were both far too big for him; Mrs. Hewes’s missing husband must have been a portly man with an extremely large forehead.

He had shaved, and his hair was tied back neatly. Under his tattered uniform jacket was a pullover of wool and beneath that a fine linen shirt, freshly boiled. As for his stomach, it was full. Whatever it was that Mrs. Hewes had dosed him with, the meals of the last day had managed to stay inside him.

As if in answer to the general’s query, the door behind Peter was flung open
and there stood Mrs. Hewes, in her usual pose of balled fists resting on her hips.

“So you are General Washington?”

He removed his hat and bowed slightly.

“Yes, madam, I am he, and I thank you for the use of your home.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, sir,” she snapped. “You send that poor boy here to do your bidding in nothing but rags, covered in lice, and I will not even shame the lad by telling you what his bowels were like.”

Washington reddened slightly, and Peter could see the variety of reactions of the entourage behind him. Lafayette stood in absolute shock, as if staring straight into the bore of a six-pounder about to be fired, while Greene could barely suppress a grin at his general’s predicament.

“Was near the death of me cleaning this one lad up.”

“Be certain, madam, I am most grateful, as I know he is as well. The clothing he wears, madam?”

“A gift, so don’t go chastising him, which he swore you would do.”

Peter, who felt caught in the middle, stared straight off into space, still at rigid attention between Mrs. Hewes behind him and the general in front of him.

“My reaction would be different if I had not heard that from you, madam. And I thank you for the concern you have shown for such a fine soldier.”

Peter reddened now as well with that praise.

“If I should see him again reduced to such a state of beggary, he a fine young Christian lad who is serving our country, believe me, you will hear from me!”

“I believe you, madam,” Washington said gravely.

She shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet, reaching up to pull her shawl tight over her bony shoulders to ward off the chill. It was obvious she was not finished, though.

“The house is yours, sir. I am moving in with relatives but will be by regular to check on the state of things. No tracking in mud. I prefer to think there is no consumption of hard spirits under the roof of my home, but if you and yours can’t observe that, at least do not do so on the Sabbath. Nor card playing or other sorts of gambling.”

He nodded gravely.

“The linens are freshly boiled. When you depart I expect the gesture to be returned.”

“But of course.”

She gazed past him to the others.

“Are any of you lice-infected?”

Peter, absolutely mortified, lifted his gaze to heaven, praying silently that this inquiry would cease. Lafayette stepped forward as if to offer an angry reply. Washington was struck silent, for the discussion of such things in mixed company was not at all proper. Surely a woman of Virginia would never pose such a question so directly.

Even Washington stammered and finally Tilghman cleared his throat.

“Madam, I can assure you we are not.”

“Well, it better be so. This poor boy was covered with them, gentlemen. Covered, I tell you. To allow such is shocking. The British, as you know, raided here in September, and I can tell you, not one left a louse behind, even though they are a rapacious band of thieves.”

No one could reply.

“Fine, then, we understand each other?”

There was a moment of silence. She sighed, again pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders, and came down off the porch. She stopped by Peter’s side, gazed at him, and then, as if by impulse, she leaned over and kissed him on the check.

“If you are hungry because they can’t find food for you, Peter, I’m staying just down the lane. Keep your feet dry and take that medicine I left for you for two more days—that should bind you up good and proper.”

Peter looked at the general, who was gazing at him, features fixed, not sure what to do, and could see Major Tilghman standing behind the general, grinning, near to the point of laughing at his embarrassment.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Hewes,” he whispered.

“God be with you, lad.”

She kissed him again and choked back a sob, looking back at Washington.

“When will this damn war end, sir? When can this boy go home to his mother, where he belongs?”

“Madam, that is in the hands of Providence, but I pray it shall be soon.” She sniffed and shook her head.

“I am a God-fearing woman, General Washington. My first husband was a Quaker. Those silent meetings near drove me to distraction at times. My second husband is with the state militia, and if you see that fool, tell him I expect him home immediately and no more hiding from me. But as for God’s will, sir? I am not of the Presbyterian persuasion and thus do not see our lives as preordained. I believe the Lord helps those who help themselves. It is in your
hands, sir. And you damn well better seize the moment. If this boy and others like him are killed in one more battle without results, it shall rest on the heads of all of you.”

She swept them with an icy gaze and none replied.

She extended her hand, offering him the key to the house, which he took, nodding his thanks.

“Good day to you, gentlemen,” she announced.

She started to walk past them.

“Madam, may we offer you a ride to where you are going?” Major Tilghman asked.

“With what? I will not sit astride a horse, sir. That is unladylike. I have two good legs for walking and it is but a mile off. Good day to you.”

She paused, spared a quick glance back at Peter, sighed, and, shaking her head, stepped out onto the muddy road and stalked off.

The general watched her go, and a flicker of amusement lit his features. He turned back to Peter, who was still at rigid attention.

“You seem to have found a protector, young man,” he said.

“Ah, yes, sir. I mean, I’m sorry, sir. She forced the clothes on me, sir, and the bath.”

“I am certain of that. I trust you behaved as a soldier should.” As he spoke, he put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“I wish I could offer the same for every man of this army on this day,” he said softly. Stepping past Peter, he went up the few steps of the porch and looked back at the road and the figure of Mrs. Hewes purposefully walking on, occasionally stopping to shake the mud off her shoes.

“Women like her are the backbone of this country,” he announced, gazing back at his staff as if to still any critical remarks. “Sons from a woman such as her are what we need now, more than ever. She would make a Roman or Spartan proud.”

And then he forced a smile.

“But God save her poor husband when he finally shows up. I would not want to be in his shoes.”

The others laughed, and the tension and embarrassment of the moment broke as Washington led the way inside. They followed him in, the last of them Lafayette, who slowed, stopped in front of Peter, and told him to stand at ease.

“Are all your countrywomen such as she?” he asked. Though his English was fairly good, it took Peter a few seconds to grasp the question.

“Yes, sir. You could say so.”

Lafayette grinned and shook his head.

“Hard to imagine a peasant woman of France speaking thus to a famous general. I must say I am surprised. As to actually ask such an intimate question as to whether we are cursed with lice, it is shocking indeed.”

Peter did not reply.

“What are you thinking, young man?”

Peter found that question almost amusing, since this general was barely a year older than him. He did not take any real offense. The snickers and comments around the company campfires about the Frenchie officer were most definitely stilled after Brandywine and his near-insane heroism to protect the general as they fell back in rapid retreat. The headquarters guard company that Peter had fallen into after Trenton was perhaps better informed than most units, always up on the latest gossip regarding politics, and all knew how crucial this young Frenchie had become to their cause.

Lafayette was a connection straight back to France, to their king, to their hope for foreign aid. He might talk in a dandified way about various philosophers, some Peter had even heard of, such as Voltaire, but when it boiled down to the simplest of facts, all agreed this marquis truly did believe in their cause and, equally important, would not hesitate a moment to give his life to protect their general, whom he openly worshiped like a dutiful son standing in the shadow of a noble father. A man who would do that for the general had, as one of the backwoodsmen from Virginia announced, “a backbone of hickory” and, French or not, was all right.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Peter asked, looking straight into Lafayette’s eyes.

“But of course.”

He nodded to the receding figure of Mrs. Hewes.

“God bless her, it is her right to speak thus to the general. You could say that her honesty is what we are fighting for, sir.”

Lafayette took it in, saying nothing.

“And, sir, she is a patriot through and through. Her family had a share of the forge here and lost everything when the British burned it out and looted this farm. Two thousand pounds of investments burned to the ground and she bore the loss without complaint. Her sons from her first marriage are either Tories or have simply gone to sea on merchant ships flying Dutch or Swedish colors till the war is over, and then will cheer for the winning side, and she has all but disowned them. Her husband has run off with the militia. Chances are
he is in some safe billet out on the frontier. And yet she stayed here, and, God bless her, sir, she nursed me back to health.”

He paused, afraid that emotion would show.

“My family is in Trenton, sir, currently under British occupation yet again. My mother is far more pleasing to the eye, sir, but she is of the same independent spirit and I pray for her and my father every day.”

He lowered his head, and now his emotion did surface.

“Mrs. Hewes saved my life, sir. I think another day out in the cold, the mud, the rain, and with the flux, I’d have died.”

He looked back up into Lafayette’s eyes.

“Sir, I would die to defend her right to speak as she just did to General Washington. God bless him sir, he took it as a man should, an American should, and I love him for it. Mrs. Hewes has been living on boiled potatoes and a barrel of salt pork that neither the British nor our people had been able to find. Her supplies were all but gone. She doesn’t have a single shilling, let alone a Continental, to her name, and yet she took me in.”

He hesitated, not sure he could control his voice.

“She was sharing the last meals she had with me, demanding I take it, and I will confess, sir, I was so sick, and so hungry, I could not refuse.”

“I see” was all Lafayette could say in reply.

“Sir, when you write to your king, to your friends in France, tell them of her. As long as women like her believe, and send their sons forth, we cannot lose. I beg you, sir, write of that.”

He could not say more. He was a private, speaking to a general whom he assumed would indeed discuss this later with Washington.

“Her freedom to speak her mind,” and now he smiled, “and she most certainly loves to speak her mind, is precisely what we are fighting for.”

General Washington, standing at the second-floor window of what would be his sleeping quarters, looked out the window as Mrs. Hewes continued down the road. He could not help but grin and knew, of course, that their conversation would spread through the army in the days to come.

“The house is rather small, sir, considering how many will be living here, along with visitors, but it shall do,” Tilghman announced, standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

“It is sufficient. We need nothing ostentatious at this time, Major.”

“The daily reports on supplies?” Tilghman announced, holding up a sheaf of papers.

Washington motioned for him to hand them over, and he scanned through the quartermaster reports filed by each brigade, adding the figures in his head as he did so. When done, he looked back at Tilghman.