Chapter Twenty-two

Valley Forge winter 1777-1778: Boston late summer 1785

Colin dredged through the fallen snow. “Colin is that you?” A gruff voice called from between shabby leantos behind him.

Colin flinched and nearly slipped on a patch of ice as he turned to see who had called his name. A mass of soldiers huddled together, teeth chattering and dried blood, from their feet wounds, peppering the surrounding snow. They wore tattered uniforms, britches with holes, many were coatless, and a few wore decent shoes. Not a one was dressed for the cold Pennsylvania winter.

“By Gods, it is you.  You have hardly changed.” A round-faced soldier emerged, a broad smile on his face.

The soldier shifted his musket presenting a haphazard salute. His wore a thin wool blanket draped over his shoulders and shivered as a gust of wind ripped through camp. A bright red scarf was tied around the man’s ears for some semblance of warmth. His bare toes were an angry shade of blue against the surrounding snow. Colin returned the salute, shifting from one foot to the other waiting for the man to identify himself.

“It’s me, William Olsen.” The soldier stammered, shaking violently beneath his blanket. “We shared a trench together at Breed’s Hill a few years ago.”

Colin smiled warmly at William. “Yes, of course, I remember now. You were with Isaiah Paige and me.”

“And his unfortunate son,” William whispered.

Colin stamped snow from his boots, glancing from William’s frozen feet to his own. “Yes, poor Remus. Have you seen Isaiah?”

William continued talking, icicles forming on the cold steel barrel of his musket. “Last I saw of him. He was marching off with Colonel Arnold headed toward Danbury.”

Colin’s eyes looked weary. “Wasn’t the Danbury Raid a massacre? If I remember correctly, the American General in charge of the area sent his entire forces to Fairfield. Danbury was left to the mercy of the British.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” William said stamping his feet in the day old snow pack trying to keep them warm. “I am but a private. They keep that kind of information away from us. For morale, you know. There are rumors there were some causalities, but many escaped to Ticonderoga, where many were captured.”

“We can pray Isaiah is safe,” Colin said and patted William on the sleeve. “How are you holding out?”

William leaned against a lean-to, forgetting Colin was his superior. “I am well, as well as can be expected. Isaiah made me promise to look after his daughter after this war is over if it ever ends.”

“Jacqueline? She should be about seventeen by now. She can handle herself.” Colin placed his hands in his pocket.

Shivering and his teeth chattering, William stared Colin in the eye. “I promised I would look after her and by gum, that’s what I intend to do if I survive this damned winter.”

“You will survive. I have it on good authority that the French have plans to aid our cause. I am headed to General Washington’s command post to discuss such matters,” Colin said returning a salute and then thought for a moment. Unbuckling his shoes, he handed them to Olsen. “You need these more than I do.”

“Drop by sometimes, Colin. I will share my fire cakes with you. They are tasteless, but once you get used to them they are still basically tasteless,” William laughed.

Colin trudged on the path, still watching the pathetic troops in his peripheral vision. He could only hope the rumors of the French joining their revolution were true.

General Washington paced back-and-forth in front of an unlit fireplace. His orders were specific. If his troops could not warm themselves, then he and his officers would suffer the same, despite the complaints from his staff. “Unless some significant capital change suddenly takes place, this Army must inevitably starve, dissolve, or disperse, to obtain a substance in the manner they can.” Colin shook his head and rubbed his hands together.

“Begging your pardon,” the aide standing near the wall said. “There have been threats against your leadership. Your officers are unhappy. They believe you are too lax and need to prepare the enlisted men better for the spring campaign.”

Washington turned to Colin. “Captain Harcourt, what is your observance?”

Colin shifted on his feet. Goosebumps rose on his arms. “Clothing is a problem. Long marches have destroyed our men’s shoes. Blankets are scarce. Congress has failed to replace tattered garments. We need help from Congress.”

“We have sent letter after letter pleading but have yet to receive enough help. Our troops continue to struggle,” Washington, yelled, blood rushing to his face. “Doctor Cochrane, what is your report?”

The doctor ruffled a piece of paper, reading from it. “There are four-thousand, or one-fourth of the enlisted men, unfit for duty. The men are undernourished, poorly clothed and living in crowded damp quarters. Typhus, typhoid, dysentery, and pneumonia are killing them faster than I can save them.”

“We must push harder for survival.  I have given orders that the enlisted men’s wives and families be allowed to visit on Sundays. I hope that will spark some relief,” General Washington produced a letter from his pocket “I have here a letter of recommendation from Benjamin Franklin. The letter introduces Baron Friedrich Von Steuben, formerly a member of the Chief of Staff of the Prussian Army. Congress has employed him to train our troops into a proper fighting Army. He will arrive in camp in the middle of February. He will have until spring to accomplish the training. Gentlemen, his authority shall not be questioned.” General Washington refolded the letter and placed it in his pocket. “Dismissed. Colin, may I have a moment?” Washington waited for his aides to vacate his office before he opened a drawer in his desk. He produced another envelope and opened the letter by blowing on the end of the envelope. Handing the letter to Colin, he said, “As you can see the letter was dated New Year’s Day from Paris. The speed letters arrive at their destination is simply incredible. I received the letter just after dinner last night.”

“That means you received a letter from Paris in just over thirty-five days,” Colin said, astonished, as he read the letter to himself.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” General Washington sat in his chair, stretching his long legs before him. “What do you think about Dr. Franklin’s letter?”

“If there is any truth to this letter, then I am beside myself with joyful anticipation.” Colin wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.

“Don’t get over excited. The letter only indicates that the French are interested in our cause, nothing more.” Washington stated, bringing his warm blanket around his lap.

“That’s enough for me, sir. They are interested enough to send La Fayette as an emissary to investigate our battle against tyranny.” Colin’s smiled. “I find it ironic how a country such as France could join forces with us. They were our sworn enemy twenty years ago.”

“They were England’s sworn enemy, not ours. We were England,” Washington corrected Colin. “I must attend to our camp’s needs and optimistically hope for aide from the French government.”

Colin blew warm air into his cupped hands. “Why didn’t you tell the staff about Dr. Franklin’s letter?”

“I wanted to discuss our options with you first. I have neglected to tell my staff that Baron von Steuben is already in America. Alexander left Boston a week ago and should be in York by today or tomorrow. He will first visit Congress where the Baron will be officially handed his commission. He will then depart for here. I sent Alexander Hamilton to act as his guide. The Baron speaks no English but speaks passable French. Alexander speaks both.”

Colin stood and ambled to the fireplace, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “The French recognized us as an independent country February 6th. Baron von Steuben entered Valley Forge on the 23rd. He quickly searched for our best soldiers, which he called a model company. He then recruited Captain Benjamin Walker as his aide. Captain Walker spoke French. The Baron used Captain Walker as his voice as he spoke a little English. You could often hear the Baron’s obscenities came out of Walker’s mouth.”

“I am familiar with the Baron’s tactics,” Grant said. “He would train the model company, and then the model company would prepare another company, so on and so-forth.”

Colin felt old as he turned from the mirror. “That’s correct General. The results were nothing short of a miracle. We had a unit ready for battle by the time we left Valley Forge. Parliament sent us an Olive Branch peace treaty in August, disguised loosely as the Carlisle Commission. The commission offered self-rule for the Americas within the confines of the Crown. Congress saw this as doubt on behalf of the Crown. There were also rumors that the British were about to leave Philadelphia to fortify New York. Congress told the Commission that the Americas would settle for nothing less than independence. The rest is history. You can read about it in any textbook.”

Bored, Sally, who had been playing with her shoe buckles, raised her eyes upward. “So how did you meet your wife?”

“I am getting to that point. However, there are many years between the end of the war and our meeting. There is one last tale that I feel I must share for you to meet my lovely wife. It was a fine summer day in 1785, I had just re-entered Boston for the first time in many years, and I chose to visit my favorite tavern. I did not expect to see who I found there…”

Colin entered the Green Dragon Tavern in Boston just after noon, his throat parched. He needed a cold drink before his visit to his old friend’s house. He didn’t know what to expect at the house. Did Isaiah survive the war? Was Jacqueline waiting for him? Colin concluded that the best way to visit the house would be intoxicated.

Colin didn’t see Major Dunehirst, sitting arms crossed and scowling at a back table. Dunehirst was once an excellent officer in the ill-fated British Army. A bullet to his shoulder changed his life. He spent years recuperating and healing and remained in America once the war ended, vowing to stop the life of a traitor named Colin Harcourt. Dunehirst changed his identity, soon becoming the talk of the town. He knew how to grease the right palms; he used his family’s vast fortune to his best advantage. He gave to the right charities. Adam Jones, his new name, was the man to see if you were down on your luck. Mr. Jones kept a watchful eye on the house where the family of Colin’s friend Isaiah Paige lived.

Dunehirst had even become friends with Isaiah’s daughter Jacqueline and her new husband, William Olsen. He attended their wedding. He took part in the christening of the couple’s newborn daughter last Sunday.

Dunehirst’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a wry smile when Colin entered the tavern.

 “I can’t believe the fly has come to his reward,” a slurred voice behind Colin said. The sharp tipped knife pressed into his rib cage far enough to draw a drop of blood. “You thought me dead, right Captain? Your luck has run out. I have some unfinished business with you. Shall we step outside or shall I slice your traitorous throat where we stand?”

Colin stiffened, gripping an empty glass. “Don’t be a fool, Major. The tavern is full. You wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Aye yes, it’s full of my friends. They would understand if I cut the throat of an infamous British general. I can tell them how many of their brothers, fathers, or friends you sent to the grave, now walk to the door.”

A patron, his skin wreaked of bourbon, his eyes bloodshot, bumped into Dunehirst with a force that made him drop his knife. Colin smashed a bottle on his tormentor’s nose, blood spurting in his face. When Dunehirst cupped his nose, eyes watering, Colin unclipped a knife from his waist, burying the shank into Dunehirst’s chest. The pupil’s of his eyes focused in and out, as he clutched the knife in his chest. Colin twisted the knife deeper and shoved Dunehirst flying into a nearby table.

The drunken patron stared with his mouth open at Dunehirst, bleeding on top of the wobbling table. “He has killed Adam.”

Several patrons glanced up from their tankards, brows furrowed. They scooted their chairs back on the wood floors and lunged at Colin.

Without thinking, Colin ran. He briefly thought about seeking sanctuary from Jacqueline but decided it would be too dangerous for her. The only option was to flee Boston