The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [177]
“Dr. Rush has been my friend for . . . years. He put his signature to the Declaration of Independence, spent so many months in the congress working for our cause. I cannot just ignore his sentiment. It is one matter to dismiss the voice of a man like your Mr. Conway. I don’t fear those who are blind with ambition. Their blindness will lead them to failure, to mistakes, to unwise alliances. But Benjamin Rush is not of that cloth. He resigned as surgeon general of this army because he could not tolerate the inefficiencies in that department. While we have desperate need of his service, I have to respect his decision. This . . . I’m not certain I can respect at all. At the very least, he could have had the courage to sign his name.”
He turned, looked at Lafayette, saw Tilghman there, Hamilton behind him.
“What response is appropriate, gentlemen? I cannot prevent men in this army from believing in their own abilities, and I cannot prevent any man in this country from having his say. This may be my just reward. If my efforts do not meet those of the commanders who now find such favor with the country, then this intrigue against me is justified.” He looked at the faces, saw the outrage that he was too tired to feel himself. Tilghman said, “If you do not respond, sir, allow us to speak in your place. Allow your men to send their own message to the congress, or to General Gates, or to whoever else will spout such insubordination! No one in this camp will follow anyone but you, sir!”
Lafayette said, “I am ashamed, sir, that I believed General Conway to be an adequate commander. It is an embarrassment to me that French officers continue to infect this army with their zeal for glory. It cannot be ignored, sir!”
Washington sat down, settled heavily into the chair.
“Your loyalty is noted. I will handle this matter in a way most appropriate. You are dismissed, gentlemen.”
He knew they would continue to protest, could not hear it just then. The room emptied, and he sat alone for a moment, but there was no time for the luxury of daydreaming. He called out, “Mr. Lafayette, if you please.”
Lafayette returned, and Washington said, “I have heard nothing of progress in our negotiations with your king. Do you have any information, have you received any word?”
“Sir, I would have informed you at the first moment. I regret, I have heard nothing as well.”
Washington sat back in the chair, looked at the desk, the scattering of papers, said, “We are in a desperate time. I appreciate your outrage and your loyalty, Mr. Lafayette. But I cannot summon energy for such causes while this army endures.” The anger rose up, unstoppable now, and he rolled his hand into a tight fist, pounded slowly, softly on the desk. The words came out in a low hard growl, “I do not comprehend how the congress can hear our pleas and continue to ignore them so.” He paused, rubbed his hands together, held on to the anger, pushed it away. “This army is dying, Mr. Lafayette, a slow, quiet death. We are weaker daily, and even if we survive the winter, I do not believe the coming of spring will bring a miraculous cure. We cannot clothe the men, we cannot provide the means to protect them from the cold. And if that is not sufficient cause for despair, now there are difficulties with the food. We cannot always be faulted for sickness, but starvation is another matter. I cannot comprehend that the congress will not provide for the survival of this army, that these men, these very good men, will be allowed to suffer so.”
“Surely not, sir.”
Washington thought a moment, said, “We need your assistance, Mr. Lafayette. It is no longer about money or credit or ships filled with gunpowder. It is about soldiers, the power of your nation to turn this war against our enemy. I do not see how this army can be brought to the field in three or four months and face the might of General Howe again. Your king must understand the need, must certainly know that an alliance with America is desirable.”
“I’m sorry, sir. There is little I can offer, except hope.