The First American Army - Bruce Chadwick [85]
Those close to the commander in chief understood his frustration, but told him that he had wrongly assumed that everyone, from privates to colonels, shared his noble vision of the Revolution. Nathanael Greene, who would later become one of Washington’s closest confidants, put it diplomatically when he wrote early in the war that “His Excellency has been taught to believe that people here are a superior race of mortals, and finding them of the same temper and disposition, passions and prejudices, virtues and vices of the common people of other governments, they sink in his esteem.”6
Many new to the military agreed with Washington’s grim assessment of the troops. One lieutenant, Alexander Graydon, a well-educated Pennsylvanian, sneered at the American force, calling it “the motley army.” He wrote that “the appearance of things was not much calculated to excite sanguine expectations in the mind of a sober observer. Great numbers of people were indeed to be seen, and those who are not accustomed to the sight of bodies under arms are always prone to exaggerate them. The irregularity, want of discipline, bad arms, and defective equipment in all respects gave no favourable impression of its prowess.”7
There was little Washington could do to stem the departure of men who had served their time, but he instituted a series of steps to stop the mass desertion that threatened to ruin the military. Officer furloughs were ended so that regimental leaders could watch over their men; they were also ordered to be kind to all unhappy soldiers. Newspapers were asked to publish physical descriptions of deserters and their readers were urged to turn them in for a $5 reward. He also convinced Congress to order states to have deserters arrested and brought before local magistrates before being returned to the service. Deserters were usually given one hundred lashes and some were even executed.
That’s where James McMichael’s assignment originated. He and many other officers were sent to their home counties to seek out deserters and arrest them. McMichael did as he was told, but on the way was delayed at Stony Brook. The ardent young lieutenant was in such a hurry to reach his wife there that he rode all day, arriving at Susanna’s home at 9 p.m. He stayed with her that night and for two more nights and days, finally departing for Pennsylvania on July 14. Susanna, unable to let her new groom go, accompanied him as far as the Delaware and then McMichael headed into Pennsylvania and she reluctantly returned home. He reasoned the outcome of the war and the history of the world had not been changed much by his secret, joyous little stopover at Stony Brook.
There were other times when McMichael would sneak off to see his beloved. Sometimes he rode to Stony Brook and on other occasions he met her for trysts at the homes of her friends in Amwell, a community several miles north. Once he had to leave Susanna to catch a ferry back to camp and missed it. McMichael promptly decided to spend two more days with Susanna. The lieutenant then invented a lengthy tale about his Herculean but unsuccessful efforts to travel up and down the Delaware for days to find another ferry to reach camp, an explanation his commanding officer grudgingly accepted.
His poems to Susanna inspired Lt. McMichael to write more poetry and throughout the revolution he penned dozens of poems, some long and some short. It was not unusual for soldiers to write a four line ditty to a wife, girlfriend, or family member every once in awhile, but following his summer trysts, McMichael turned to rhyme to describe his feelings not just about his passion for Susanna, but the Revolution itself. His poems grew from four lines to eight lines to several pages. Later, they would become Homeric in length.