by Ron Carter
Washington sent scouts out on reconnaissance missions, limiting their scope to seventy miles from Valley Forge, according to the authority and the mileage limitation granted him by Congress. Some of his scouts were General Nathanael Greene and Colonel Tench Tilghman. Eli, a fictional character, is herein depicted as such a scout. Jackson, Valley Forge: Pinnacle of Courage, p. 85; Reed, Valley Forge: Crucible of Victory, p. 16.
On December 27, 1776, Congress granted astounding powers to George Washington, which it has not bestowed on any other man since, to essentially go into the countryside and take what he needed, paying a fair price in continental currency to farmers and other persons, who would rather have sold to the British for gold. The powers enumerated herein are abstracted from the larger document issued by Congress. Said powers expired in June 1777 but were reinstated in favor of Washington in December 1777, to enable him to survive at Valley Forge. Freeman, Washington, p. 323; Leckie; George Washington’s War, p. 324; Higginbotham, The War of American Independence, p. 182; Reed, Valley Forge: Crucible of Victory, p. 16.
Valley Forge
February 1778
CHAPTER XXIV
* * *
Colonel John Laurens’s boots echoed as he strode briskly down the bare hardwood hall to stop before the library door and rap twice. From within came the familiar voice, and he tugged at his tunic, opened the door, and entered. Seated at a plain table, in a small, sparsely furnished room with hardwood bookshelves lining two walls, General Washington, proper in his uniform, nodded. Laurens advanced two steps and saluted. Washington returned it, and Laurens waited.
“You have the mail?”
“Yes, sir.” He handed the general several messages, and Washington asked, “Anything of unusual import?”
“Two things, sir. First, a letter from General Lafayette. It might be of interest.”
“Concerning what?”
“An apology. General Lafayette lately came to understand the entire matter of the cabal set in motion by Generals Conway and Gates. He had made it a point to be friendly to all his fellow officers and just realized that it was a mistake to attempt to ingratiate himself with either Gates or Conway. He wants you to know that he is in no way part of their . . . uh . . . conspiracy, if that’s an accurate description, to be disruptive with Congress. He reaffirms his unswerving commitment to serve you and the American cause.”
Washington gestured for Laurens to be seated while he drew the Lafayette letter from the bundle and opened it. Carefully he read every word.
“ . . . the friendliest of relations have not been impaired by my ignorance of the truth surrounding Generals Conway and Gates. Every assurance and proof of your affection fills my heart with joy. . . .”
Washington finished reading the letter and laid it on the tabletop. “General Lafayette sent a letter about a month ago, expressing the same sentiments. I wrote to him then, giving him my assurances of my continued confidence and trust in him. Since then, he has written to Henry Laurens in Congress, steadfastly supporting me and our efforts in behalf of the army. This letter confirms his loyalty. Young General Lafayette is coming of age. I believe he will mature into a great help to our cause.”
“I agree, sir.”
“Have you heard anything more about the so-called Conway Cabal since Congress made General Conway inspector general and he came here to perform his inspection of the army?”
“Not since he left here. I know he complained to Congress that his reception here was . . . cool.”
Washington’s reply was instant. “He understated. It was not cool, it was cold, but it was proper in every particular. He was extended every courtesy, every point of protocol due his station. I find it impossible to be warm toward one of the most dangerous men in the Continental Army. I wrote Congress to that effect, as you know.”
Laurens nodded. “I recall. In any event, it is apparent that since General Conway left here, his cabal has died of its own weight. I believe it is of no further concern.”
“Was General Lafayette successful in extracting himself from Congress’ plan to put him in command of another attempt to invade Canada?”
“Yes, sir. He was willing to do what Congress required but informed the members rather forcefully that he thought placing Conway as his second in command would be a serious mistake. And he was not at all impressed with the proposition that Canada could be won with just twelve hundred men. It appears Congress is going to abandon the entire project. Lafayette was overjoyed at being ordered to return here.”
“Good.” Washington glanced at the remaining messages. “You said there were two matters of import. What is the second?”
“A message from General Howe, sir. I believe he wants to discuss an exchange of prisoners.”
Washington leaned forward. “An exchange! Enlisted men or officers?”
“Both. Mainly officers.”
Quickly Washington searched through the papers until he found the one with the British lion impressed on the parchment. He opened it, scanned the salutation, and studied the wording.
“ . . . it now seems appropriate to both sides to accept your prior offer to exchange prisoners of war, officer for officer of equal rank, or, several officers of inferior rank for one of superior rank, and soldier for soldier held by either side to be freed on parole until exchanged . . .”
Washington turned to Laurens. “He’s proposing to accept our terms. Would you draft a response advising that we will refine the terms as soon as possible. Specifically, I need to know whether he means that the officers shall be exchanged immediately, before any such final terms are agreed to, or whether he intends they should be retained where they are and considered to be on parole until the final terms are concluded. Further, I propose that I send two commissioners to meet with two commissioners he shall appoint to represent him, and they shall meet at the King of Prussia Tavern in Germantown on March tenth to make any changes that are just and fair, and any other matters that may arise. I would like to receive from him the names and ranks of the officers he intends to return to us. Specifically, does he intend delivering General Charles Lee to us under this arrangement?”
For a moment Laurens bowed his head to hide a smile, remembering that the highly touted Major General Charles Lee, British trained but serving in the American army, had been taken prisoner by young British Ensign Banastre Tarleton on Friday, December 13, 1776, when Tarleton caught him in his slippers, mid-morning, just after Lee finished his breakfast in the boarding house of Mrs. White near Basking Ridge, not far from Trenton. No one in the American army had ever learned just what Lee was doing in a boarding house, wearing slippers mid-morning, nine miles from his command, without sufficient soldiers to protect him.
“I’ll draft a proposal for you earliest, sir.”
Washington leaned back in his chair reflectively. “Colonel, there is a matter—a personal matter—that is of concern. Mrs. Washington is coming to Valley Forge for a time, and I have not had word of her travels. I would very much appreciate knowing if she is safe, and if possible, when she is expected to arrive here.”
“I will do what I can to find out, sir. Is there anything else?”
“Yes. It appears that from time to time critically important information that is privy to some of our officers is reaching the British. I would like yourself and Colonel Hamilton to address a plan to find which officers are responsible, whether by carelessness or otherwise.”
“Do I presume this should be done . . . discreetly?”
“As quietly as possible. I do not want to ruin the reputation of innocent officers, but I tell you now, should we find proof one of them is abetting the British, he will be hanged summarily for treason.”
“Anyone in particular under suspicion?”
“At this time, no.”
“I’ll discuss it with Colonel Hamilton, and we will do—”
There was an insistent rap at the door, and both men turned their heads to look as Washington spoke.
“Who�
�s there?”
“Colonel Hamilton, sir. Scout Eli Stroud has returned and states his orders are to report to you immediately.”
Washington’s back stiffened. “Enter.”
Hamilton opened the door, stepped aside, and Eli walked into the room. He still wore his wolf-skin coat with the parka thrown back, and his weapons belt remained buckled about his midsection. His jaw was set, his beard a five-day growth. He waited for Washington’s direction.
Washington turned to Laurens and Hamilton. “Both of you remain. All of you be seated.” He turned to Eli. “Make your report.”
Eli proceeded immediately.
“Do you have a map of the country around here?”
Quickly Washington unrolled a scrolled map. Eli stood, studied it for a moment, then dropped an index finger on the area just north and west of Trenton.
“There are about seven hundred barrels of salt fish here.” He shifted his finger slightly to the west. “And here, not far, are over ten thousand barrels of pork.”
Washington started but held his silence as Eli continued.
His finger slid on the map, from Allentown on the east to Coryell’s Ferry on the west. “All through this country, farmers are salting their beef—thousands of barrels.”
Hamilton came to his feet, followed by Laurens, who leaned forward to study the places Eli was indicating.
“From where we are, here at Valley Forge, moving north past Princeton, on to New Brunswick, here, east as far as English Town, and west to Bethlehem, then south to the Susquehanna River, there is enough flour in barrels to fill more than five hundred wagons.”
Washington was incredulous. Hamilton straightened, wide-eyed.
“Within seventy miles in all directions are hundreds—thousands—of cattle, fat and ready for market. Thousands of tons of grain—oats, barley, wheat—stored in barns.”
Laurens raised a hand as though to speak, thought better of it, and remained silent. Eli went on.
“Blankets, shoes, clothes—the merchants and the farmers have all of them.”
Eli stopped, considered, and raised his eyes to Washington, waiting.
Washington cleared his throat. “Why have we not known this?”
“Farmers and merchants are selling their goods to the British. The reason is the British are paying good prices, and they’re paying in gold. We pay less, and we pay in Continental paper money, and the farmers know our paper money is nearly worthless. It doesn’t take much to figure out why the farmers would rather deal with the British than with us. So the farmers hide their goods and tell us they have nothing to sell and deal instead with the British.”
“You talked with the farmers?”
“No. I watched them sell to British patrols when they came, and I watched them refuse to sell to our men, so I stopped at half a dozen taverns and listened. That’s what I heard over and over again. I went to the farms—dozens of them—and counted their goods myself. The supplies are there, hidden.”
“Could you show a large force of our troops where these things are stored if they were ordered to take those goods?”
“Yes, but that’s not the trouble.”
“What is?”
“Wagons and roads and horses.” Eli waited until he saw understanding creep into the eyes of the three officers.
“I found over two thousand barrels of flour sitting in a warehouse less than forty miles from here. Six hundred barrels of fish sitting on a dock, rotten. Fifty wagon loads of clothing in a storage shed. But in the whole five days I was out there, I didn’t see more than ten wagons. There are no wagons within eighty miles of here. Without wagons, nothing moves.”
“And the roads?”
“Frozen hard as stone. If we did somehow find wagons, not one of them would make it ten miles on the roads the way they are right now. They’re frozen hard enough and they’re rutted enough to break the wheels and axles of a loaded wagon. It might be possible to load wagons light—maybe one third of a load—and move them on the roads, but that would be the only chance.”
“Horses?”
“Very few to be found anywhere, including this camp. I’ve seen three hundred dead horses in this camp, and without horses, I’ve seen men harness themselves to sleds loaded with firewood to drag it from the forest to the campfires. They left blood from their feet in the snow. Eight days ago we got four barrels of salt fish delivered to our Massachusetts Regiment. It was spoiled so rotten you couldn’t lift out the fish one at a time. We had to shovel it out like soup. And the men pounced on it and ate half of it raw. Vomited most of it up and ate some more. When supply wagons do make it into camp with barrels of salt beef, we find the wagoneers have poured off the salt brine to lighten the loads to get through the snow in the mountain passes, and the meat’s gone to mush. Some wagons come in with the flour dumped from the barrels into the wagon box and left uncovered to the weather so the flour’s gone. Useless. Everything we need is out there, but the way this thing is working right now, we’ll all be dead or gone before we ever get any of it here.”
Eli swallowed hard and straightened while he regained control. He did not realize how hard he had been talking to General George Washington.
For five full seconds Washington, Hamilton, and Laurens remained silent, letting the full impact of Eli’s outburst sink in, take shape, form a picture in their minds. Then Washington shifted his feet.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. I saw a lot of British patrols. They’re out getting whatever they want.”
“Are you all right? Sick? Injured?”
“I’m all right.”
“You found enough to eat?”
“Yes. Rabbit. Partridge. Nuts.”
“Unless there is something else, you are dismissed.”
Eli nodded, turned on his heel, walked out the door and closed it and treaded softly down the hallway to the parlor, where he collected his rifle from a sergeant and walked out into the frigid, bright sunlight.
In the library Washington sat down and gestured for Laurens and Hamilton to take their seats.
“I believe this man. Do you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Last evening I received a copy of a hand-delivered message from an inspecting officer named Francis Dana, written to Congress.” Washington opened his desk drawer and drew out a small sheet of paper. “Colonel Dana wrote, and I quote, ‘Should the enemy, encouraged by the growing weakness of your troops, be led to make a successful impression upon your camp, your artillery would now undoubtedly fall into their hands for want of horses to remove it. Further, the loss of the artillery, catastrophic as it would be, is a much smaller and more tolerable evil than the imminence of famine.’”
Washington’s eyes became blue-gray flecks of obsidian. “Colonel Hamilton, before your arrival today, I spoke to Colonel Laurens of the fact that information such as this is somehow reaching the British. Should they learn of the true conditions of this army, a heavy attack might end the revolution in half a day. We absolutely must stop the leaking of such things to the British. I asked Colonel Laurens to cooperate with you in studying the problem and reaching a proposal to stop it. I repeat that order to both of you now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, as for the wretched state of affairs of our commissary, I have no compunctions in stating that in my opinion much of it is the result of the inaction of General Mifflin. He commands the commissary, but he remains sitting in Reading, spending his time trying to revive the now defunct Conway Cabal against me and ignoring this army altogether. Couple Mifflin’s neglect with a Congress that is nearly paralyzed with infighting and politics that are meaningless, and that leaves our men exactly as Colonel Dana described them—facing the imminent and real threat of dying from famine, to say nothing of a British assault. Unless General Mifflin corrects himself immediately, I’m going to recommend to Congress a massive reorganization of this army and nominate General Nathanael Greene to replace General Mifflin.”
Hamilton and Laurens watched the controlled anger rise to color Washington’s face. “Famine! Our men starving to death here in a section of the country famous for an abundance of everything! I will not tolerate it!”
The two aides sat without moving, without a change of expression.
“The only way I can see to stop the practice of selling flour to the British rather than to us is to disable the flour mills engaged in it. So, Colonel Hamilton, draft a proposed order for my signature, directing that our troops are to disable such mills by sawing off the teeth of the wheel that drives the grindstone.”
Washington paused to bring his raging anger under control.
“Have General Anthony Wayne in this office tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. As soon as possible, I’m sending him with five hundred troops to go into the countryside and get the supplies that Scout Stroud has located—at bayonet point if necessary. General Wayne will be authorized to pay a fair price in Continental money for it, but get it he will!”
Hamilton interrupted. “Sir, General Wayne is . . . uh . . . badly discouraged. More than one hundred officers have lately resigned from his command. There is rumor that he himself has intimated he will leave unless something changes very quickly.”
“I know of that, but General Wayne will obey orders if they are given to him. Get him here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And be certain that what we’ve discussed here today remains in this room until I give further orders. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Notes
Upon discovering that General Thomas Conway was undermining General Washington, General Lafayette wrote to General Washington assuring him of his distaste for Conway and of his ongoing support of General Washington. Washington and Lafayette exchanged letters, as stated herein. The quotation from a Lafayette letter is verbatim. Reed, Valley Forge: Crucible of Victory, pp. 16–17.
Following his appointment as inspector general, General Conway visited Valley Forge. General Washington extended him every required military courtesy; however, Washington was cold and formal. Conway complained to Congress. See Reed, Valley Forge: Crucible of Victory, p. 22; Freeman, Washington, p. 378.