Valley Forge — Almost A Trainwreck — Conclusion

The Conway Cabal had been beaten.

This unholy trinity of general slimeballs — General Horatio Gates, General Thomas Mifflin, and General Thomas Conway — had schemed to get rid of George Washington, his best generals, his staff of wunderkind (Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, and the Marquis de Lafayette), and then take over the Continental Army, which was huddled at Valley Forge in the winter of 1778.

George Washington proved himself to be no slouch at politics, using a combination of judicious silence, imposing dignity, and a Congressional delegation that came to visit the army’s winter headquarters and see for itself what was really going on to cut the cabal off at the knees.

With all that behind him and the weather getting better, George had to turn his attention to planning a campaign. There was a universal expectation that the army would spring out of its winter quarters (pun intended) and take the fight to the British. The Howe brothers were homeward bound, a new commanding general was appointed (Henry Clinton), and the French were on their way to help out.

But was the army ready for a fight?

Nathanael Greene’s new Quatermaster Department, backed by a Cabal-less Congress, had done its job. Food and supplies were now common occurrences at Valley Forge. The men had clothes and shoes and didn’t have smallpox, thanks to Washington’s insistence on inoculation, but they needed a morale boost and still had to learn how to soldier if they were going to avoid being slaughtered by the British when the weather got better.

For this, George Washington had two secret weapons.

(If you’d rather listen than read, check out this week’s episode of History’s Trainwrecks).

https://shows.acast.com/60a3be0e6196e1001b05895b/episodes/6602ceec54612f0017241211?

***

Martha Washington arrived at Valley Forge around the beginning of February 1778. She usually stayed at Washington’s side in winter quarters, softening his austere side and providing a warmth and comfort to the officers and men that her revered husband could not. She also took charge of the often-squabbling officer’s wives, like Caty Greene and Lucy Knox, imposing a sense of propriety and eliminating the personal sniping between the subordinate generals that their wives helped along.

She didn’t complain about the less-than-grand quarters she shared with the commanding general, which helped forestall complaints among the officer corps about their own accommodations. She worked from dawn into the night, mending clothing for the soldiers and rolling bandages, recruiting the other women in camp to do the same merely by example.

Criticism of General Washington died down as soon as Mrs. Washington made her appearance, and her presence, as it had always done, helped George deal with his many burdens. On February 22nd, Martha bought enough provisions to throw her husband a birthday celebration. A Pennsylvania regiment’s fife and drum corp struck up the band outside of headquarters to acknowledge the occasion. When the concert ended, Martha went outside and handed the bandleader fifteen shillings.

This was the first public celebration of George Washington’s birthday in the United States.

***

The other ace up George’s sleeve was Baron Friedrich Wilhelm Ludolf Gerhard Augustin Von Steuben. He was a round sort of fellow from Prussia, purportedly a protégé of King Frederick the Great. He had studied for the priesthood but followed his father — a Prussian engineer — on campaign, after which he enlisted in the army.

He was wounded in action in the Seven Years’ War and got appointed to Frederick the Great’s staff. He was captured by Russia in 1761 and spent time in the capital of St. Petersburg, where he befriended the future Czar Peter III. He helped broker a peace treaty between Russia and Prussia. Like other aspirants to glory in the Revolution like Charles Lee, Von Steuben was pretty well connected.

He got inducted into Frederick’s officer training school, which the king created to produce the next generation of world-class generals. It was here that Von Steuben’s good fortunes turned. He was drummed out of the army for what might have been inappropriate relationships with some of the young male officers.

Like Charles Lee, Von Steuben wandered through Europe, hoping to parlay his military experience into a high post somewhere. He was made a Baron by the small state of Hohenzollern-Hechingen in Germany, but the title was all he got, so he kept moving. His next fateful stop was in Paris, where he gained an audience with Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane, who was the chief conduit for supplying foreign officers to the American cause. Deane’s track record was murky at best, having sent more than a few former sergeants who claimed to be generals and who turned out to be mere opportunists looking for rank and pay.

Franklin was cautiously persuaded. Unlike most European armies at the time, Prussia expected its officers to get down in the mud with their soldiers, sharing their training and hardships. Though Von Steuben had likely not been much more than a captain, there was a serious difference between a Prussian captain and a British or French one. Franklin saw a man who could teach undisciplined American civilians how to soldier on the Prussian model.

Silas Deane, always wowed by a man in uniform, even if the medals were fake and the resume was a lie, was, predictably, bowled over by Von Steuben and recommended him to the Continental Congress for some kind of appointment in the American army. Deane and Franklin — but probably mostly Deane — invented a fictitious backstory for Von Steuben, who magically turned into a former lieutenant general under Frederick the Great and had been the Prussian army’s quartermaster general.

A small lie in a good cause. Whatever else might be said of Von Steuben, he was able to get Benjamin Franklin to bend the truth for him. It helped that Von Steuben, the former priest-in-training, was well-educated, his readings convincing him of the rightness of the American cause. An accomplished soldier was one thing; one who was also a fervent and educated revolutionary was a big win. It was these reasons, not incidentally, that accounted for Charles Lee’s promotion to second in command of the American army, though he himself hadn’t made it past the rank of major. (For more on Charles’s career, see History’s Trainwrecks episodes 50–57: The Men Who Would Be Washington).

Von Steuben had a final meeting with Ben Franklin in Paris before departing for America. Unclear on the American color palette, he outfitted his retinue in red, so that upon their landing in New Hampshire they were surrounded by armed patriots thinking they had captured a high-ranking British general.

Von Steuben went to Boston, where he met with Sam Adams and John Hancock, impressing both men with his knowledge and commitment to the American cause, sealing the deal with his intent to serve with no pay, asking only that if the war succeeded, he might be granted back pay and maybe a land grant. He repeated his terms when he got to York and met the Congress. Serving at his own expense distinguished him from other foreign officers (like Charles Lee) who negotiated high salaries and expense accounts as well as acres of free land.

He was given the rank of a volunteer captain, but so impressed Henry Laurens that he sent Von Steuben on to Valley Forge with letters of high praise, commending him to George Washington, whom experience had made skeptical of foreign “generals” promising deliverance.

John Laurens, Henry’s son, grabbed the baton — I mean baron — from his father, talking with Von Steuben long into his first night at Valley Forge. It wasn’t long before the other young men in Washington’s family became huge fans of the new arrival. It helped that Laurens, Hamilton and Lafayette spoke French, which, along with German, was the only language Von Steuben knew.

These three young men urged Von Steuben to look past the underfed, regionally-disparate, seemingly undisciplined rabble that was the army at Valley Forge and see the brave and mostly untrained soldiers who had stood up to the world’s foremost army. Von Steuben agreed to their terms and set on a whirlwind tour of the camp, walking into the huts of common soldiers and asking them about everything from the state of their muskets to where they went to pee. The men had never before encountered an officer willing to meet with them one on one, asking them serious questions about their lives and service, and listening to the answers.

Von Steuben’s first report to Washington was full of — well, poop. He recommended digging latrines far from the kitchens, saying they needed to be filled in every four days and new ones dug. He sent the French engineers a blueprint for laying out a European-style army camp, with company and regimental living areas to boost morale.

Washington, who was recalling all of his widespread forces back to Valley Forge and having lost 300 officers to resignation, saw Von Steuben as the best way to prepare the army for the inevitable do or die spring offensive.

***

The British, as luck would have it, were on the fence. The French alliance with America changed their whole perspective on the Revolution. The war was about to become yet another European one that had just kicked off in the colonies, so England now had to worry about its holdings in Florida, the Caribbean, and Canada as new possible fronts in a wider war.

Okay, maybe not Canada. No one was likely to take that away from them. Many had tried.

The House of Commons ordered a new peace initiative be sent to the Continental Congress along the same lines as the previous ones: elimination of the onerous tax laws and a resumption of normal relations, including the possibility that the Congress could remain in place as a nod toward self-government but stopping short of actual independence. The British economy was suffering, and the prospect of trade disruptions in the Caribbean from expected French incursion was turning public opinion against the war.

Once the French formally announced their alliance with America, George III ordered troops and ships diverted from the American colonies to protect British interests in Florida and the Caribbean. The new commanding general, Henry Clinton, was ordered to abandon Philadelphia and go to New York in anticipation of any French moves against Canada.

George Washington, not knowing any of this, was planning his spring offensive.

***

With Nathanael Greene running the Quartermaster Department and the Conway Cabal in America’s rearview mirror, Washington could now focus all his energies on the thing he wanted most — to give the British a whuppin.

Two target cities were on the table, both representative of his perceived military failures — New York and Philadelphia. The British had forced him out of New York and took Philly while he stood by and watched, unable to do anything about it. So George’s battle plans concerned one or the other. Or both. The conditions hadn’t changed much in two years; New York was going to be a tough slog because of the British navy, and Philadelphia was defended by an army that had been dug in and building fortifications for months.

And he still didn’t have enough soldiers.

But never one to let go of a pet project, Washington and his officers drew up battle plans for both eventualities. Regardless of the targets, there was no way out of some kind of major spring offensive. He sent messengers to the states, reminding them of their promised manpower quotas and urging them to send as many men as they could to Valley Forge, where Von Steuben was planning his training regimen. Von Steuben said he could get 15,000 men ready for battle in the spring. Washington likely only had half that.

A company of Oneida Indians was formed. Local militia took over patrol duties previously handled by the regular army. Henry Knox was sent to Boston to collect all the artillery he could lay his hands on. Men and supplies, at first a trickle, soon streamed into Valley Forge.

Now it was up to Von Steuben to do something with them, despite the fact that the only English word he knew was “goddamn.”

Fingers crossed…

***

Training the entire army would take more time than the army had. Spring was right around the corner. That arrogant caballer Thomas Conway had proposed an idea where captains and sergeants received training and then fanned out to the other units to train more instructors, who would then rinse and repeat.

It was a good idea, but Washington knew Conway wasn’t the man for the job. So he pitched the idea to Von Steuben, who agreed entirely. The best soldiers in camp were formed into a model company and turned over to the Prussian’s tender mercies, which were not so tender.

The core premise of the training was discipline, which meant discipline under fire. Soldiers had to stand up and move in strict concert, even while bullets and cannonballs were coming their way. They needed to be able to fight the very normal instinct to drop down and curl into a ball and instead keep shooting back.

Von Steuben formed this company twice a day no matter the weather. Discipline was strict — if a man showed up late or didn’t follow instructions, Von Steuben would lose it, ordering his translator to “come over here and swear for me!”

This would not be the last time in our history where we made a German fellow spitting mad. Stay tuned.

No detail was overlooked, and no shortcuts were taken. Everything had to be done precisely, from standing at attention to marching in formation to the proper way to load, fire and reload a musket. The soldiers had never seen an officer who would get down on his knees in the mud to show them the proper way to stand, march, and use a bayonet, which most of the men only took out to roast meat over a fire. Like most gruff know-it-alls in history, he won the men over by actually knowing his stuff. He timed how long it took the men to load and fire their weapons and personally demonstrated all the moves he expected them to make.

Within a week, Von Steuben had his initial company performing tightly disciplined maneuvers while spectators from the ranks cheered. At night Von Steuben set to work on a manual of discipline and training — the Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States — the so-called “Blue Book” that the American Army would use as its field manual until the War of 1812. Editing services were provided by Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, now devoted fans of the gruff Prussian.

Von Steuben, who had commanded irregular troops in Hungary, had a good idea of where the Americans were coming from. Independence was their whole thing, so they weren’t going to blindly follow orders while some red-faced round guy yelled at them. Von Steuben realized that the Americans wanted to know the “why” as much as the “how” when it came to military training. He wrote to a French officer, “You say to your soldiers, ‘Do this,’ and he doeth it, but I am obliged to say, ‘This is the reason why you ought to do that,’ and then he does it. Your army is the growth of a century, mine of a day.”

The thing was, once the American soldier understood the reasons for things, they did it with precision and commitment. Washington supported the training regimen, ordering that uniforms and equipment be properly maintained at all times, subject to inspection and punishment. All men had to march in step and in alignment at all times while in camp. It turned every day at Valley Forge, in the words of one soldier, into “a continual drill.”

Von Steuben invited lower ranking officers to dinner in his quarters and was known to share the repast with the guards outside. These were the same officers whom he required to lead their troops into battle instead of delegating the risk to sergeants. American captains were becoming far more like Prussian ones, which gave them a leg up over their British counterparts.

Thomas Conway, still holding the title of Inspector General even while Von Steuben was down in the mud doing the job, had one last hissy fit left in him. Marooned in upstate New York where the Marquis de Lafayette had sent him before the planned Canada expedition, Conway wrote to Congress to complain about his backwater posting. He threatened to resign and go home to France.

The Congress accepted his resignation.

Conway went at top speed to York to take it all back, saying that he was just mad and his little temper tantrum was no big deal and he’d really like his commission back. Henry Laurens told him, “The door is shut,” and Conway went back to France.

***

The British Bills of Conciliation, their latest peace overture, reached the United States in mid-April. They were published in the newspapers even as Congress and the army got them. Essentially, the message was simple: return to British sovereignty and we’ll repeal all those taxes you don’t like and recognize the Continental Congress as a legal body. The reformed colonists could even vote for members of Parliament.

The Bills had two other nefarious purposes. One was immediate — the French were coming, and the Crown now had to pivot to a war it took much more seriously (and one it would likely want to deploy colonial militias in America like it did during the French and Indian War). The other was to weaken the public’s resolve for the war. With a significant peace offer and a return to normalcy on the table, the British hoped the civilian population would pressure Congress to end the war.

But this Congress, having found its spine under Washington’s guidance, replied that it would only consider talks with the king once “every British soldier and sailor had been withdrawn from American shores and England officially recognized the independence of the United States.” Congress went on to say that any American who attempted any kind of negotiation with the British would be branded a traitor.

Well. The Congress sure has come a long way.

***

On April 20th, 1778, George Washington assembled his generals at headquarters except for Charles Lee, who had been sent back after a prisoner exchange (for details, see History’s Trainwrecks episodes 60 and 61, I’ll Trade You A General) and then disgraced himself by sneaking his mistress into camp. He went back to his farm in Virginia to “recover” from his captivity.

But, knowing Charles Lee like we do, we know he’ll be back.

Washington laid out his battle plan for the upcoming campaign. The French were on their way, the British seemed to be moving troops around, General Howe had been replaced, and the peace overture was a shameful sham intended to neutralize the American war effort.

So, nothing doing.

He asked the generals (and Von Steuben, who was there even though still technically a volunteer captain) for their thoughts on where the army should attack once it left Valley Forge. They all knew their commander wanted to strike New York, which had been on his mind since his retreat in 1776, and Philadelphia. Their responses ranged between the two targets, except for some surprises from Nathanael Greene, Von Steuben, and Lafayette, who argued to remain at Valley Forge a little longer to build up the men and supplies needed for an effective campaign.

As they suspected, there was good reason to wait.

***

On May 6th, 1778, cannon fire summoned all the troops at Valley Forge to assemble in the parade ground. The treaty of alliance with France was read aloud. Then Von Steuben marched the whole Continental Army in a line of inspection in front of George Washington. They wheeled in formation, marching in tight precision, executing complicated maneuvers perfectly.

On May 6th, George Washington, for the first time, reviewed a real army.

When the demonstration was over, the commander-in-chief had one more announcement to make. Volunteer Captain Von Steuben was promoted to the rank of major general, assuming the recently-vacated post of Inspector General of the Continental Army.

The crowd went wild.

***

Less than a week later, Washington staged the play Cato by Joseph Addison about that ancient Roman stick in the mud who had stood against the tyranny of Julius Caesar (for details, see the History’s Trainwrecks series of episodes called Stubborn Nags of Ancient Rome). This play was the most popular show in American until Death of A Salesman in 1949.

The play was more subtle messaging from the commander-in-chief. The tale of Cato’s last stand was a stark reminder of the stakes they all faced. Cato didn’t win his fight, but if they all stood together, the Americans could.

Shortly after the show was over, news arrived that the Congress, having finally figured out they had to run the country for real, had authorized a one-time payment of $80 to every private and noncommissioned officer, as well as a half-pay pension for all officers for seven years past the war’s end.

But there was more good news to come.

***

The new British commander in America, General Henry Clinton, was finally in the driver’s seat. He had some fairly strong ideas about how to beat the Americans and was as eager to take the fight to the rebellious traitors as they were to bring it to him.

But then the king ordered him to abandon Philadelphia. By June 17th, when Henry Laurens told the members of George III’s peace commission where they could stick it, or more formally, that only “an explicit acknowledgement of the independence of these states or the withdrawing of [the king’s] fleets and armies would end hostilities” only a token English force remained in Philadelphia.

Washington sent Benedict Arnold, still recovering from his wounds at Saratoga and feeling quite put out for the credit for the victory going to that sneaky snake Horatio Gates, to take back the American capital. This wouldn’t be enough for Arnold, but we’ll get to his trainwreck in a future episode.

***

On June 19th, 1778, the American army left Valley Forge, burning all the supplies the army couldn’t carry. George Washington didn’t look back.

The British army, some 20,000 strong, had left the American capital and were heading north, presumably to New York, in a long, straggling column that barely made six miles a day, what with the heat and having to stop to build bridges the Continentals had destroyed.

It was too good a target to pass up.

On June 28th, 1778, in heat that approached 100 degrees, the Americans caught up with them in New Jersey, at Monmouth Court House.

***

Grumpy old General Charles Lee, who was no fan of Washington, Von Steuben, or the purportedly “new” American army that had been — forgive me again — forged at Valley Forge, insisted on commanding the first troops into battle, an honor that Washington had originally given to the Marquis de Lafayette. Once he realized that the upcoming fight was going to be a major engagement, Charles insisted that he be given the command since he was still second in command of that army he had so much contempt for.

Charles didn’t do proper reconnaissance the night before because it was raining, so his offensive turned pretty quickly into a retreat. George Washington, seeing his troops and his second in command going the wrong way, lost it, cursing Lee, saying “I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and confusion.”

In 18th century-speak, this was quite the tongue-lashing.

Lee was dazed and confused, believing he was saving the day by retreating in the face of superior firepower. He told Washington, “The American troops would not stand the British bayonets.” Washington roared, “You damned poltroon. You never tried them.”

He turned his back on Charles Lee and rode for the front lines. He formed up the men to buy time for the rest of the army to get into the fight. Riding back and forth with his sword in the air, Washington asked his men, “Will you fight?”

They cheered in reply. And did.

Lafayette later wrote that Washington’s mere presence on the battlefield stopped the retreat. The commander-in-chief directed troops in person while bullets and artillery shells rained all around him. As later biographers wrote, “The impact of the imposing Virginian’s presence on the battlefield that day cannot be overstated. It is no exaggeration to state that wherever Washington made his stand on the bloody field, so stood the American Revolution.”

Washington’s horse fell dead beneath him from heat and exhaustion. He leaped on another and kept going. The battle went on the entire day, the longest one of the Revolution. The Continental Army, having learned their lessons from their beloved Prussian drill sergeant, stood their ground, astounding the British officers who watched and wondered where this army had come from.

I think we all know the answer to THAT, British guys.

At six p.m., the British drummers sounded the retreat.

***

Washington, tempted to pursue the retreating enemy, nonetheless ordered his men to stand down. By morning they discovered that the British campfires they had been watching all night were just a ruse. The British were gone, off to Sandy Hook and then New York.

The Battle of Monmouth Court House was the turning point of the American Revolution. The fight would hereafter move to the southern states, and George Washington would never again take to the field until the final battle of Yorktown in 1781, when the British surrendered.

George, like his army, was a different person when he came out of Valley Forge. The importance of that winter of 1778 cannot be overstated. It was easy to think that the American cause only had a few months left to live and that its commander would soon be ousted in favor of someone else.

There were a lot of firsts at Valley Forge that we tend to not think about — the first celebration of Washington’s Birthday, the first time he was called “Father of the Country” and the first time that the American army, made up of men from different places and different backgrounds, and whose allegiance had only previously been to their home state, stood and marched and fought as a truly national army.

The army and its general weren’t the only ones hammered into steel at the Forge. The desperate straits of the cause of American independence, made real by the deprivations of that winter, infused the Second Continental Congress, which had started the winter talking about retreat, surrender, and a new commander-in-chief, with backbone and a renewed commitment to freedom. The Congress of December 1777 might have entertained a deputation of British peace negotiators. The Congress of April 1778 wouldn’t even take the meeting and told them exactly where they could put their peace plan.

America limped into Valley Forge prepared to lose. America marched out of Valley Forge ready to fight.

We should never forget it.