The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [193]
Washington looked at von Steuben, examined the man’s martial bearing, riding stiffly upright in the saddle, the amazing medals displayed on the man’s broad chest. The Prussian acknowledged the glance, a crisp nod, and Washington said, “Will someone kindly inform me what he said?”
Hamilton was close to him now, said, “He is honored, sir, to be riding beside the king of America.”
31. VON STEUBEN
FEBRUARY 27, 1778
IT WAS NOTHING LIKE VON STEUBEN HAD EVER SEEN, DRUMMERS AND MUSICIANS filling the cold air with discordant noise, the spectacle of what could have been so many vagabonds and highwaymen gathered into loose formations of order. But if the appearance of Washington’s army was a shocking surprise, the shock was deepened by the number of troops. When the cabins had emptied, and the lines formed, he could make an estimate of the strength of this army, the force that would soon be called upon to resume their fight. He didn’t know how many men were sick, or on leave, or how many had simply disappeared into the countryside. But in front of him now, shivering in respectful silence, stood no more than five thousand men.
HE HAD BEEN MISINFORMED OF THE DRESS OF THE CONTINENTAL officer, and before he left France, he had adorned himself and his staff in coats that he soon learned bore an unfortunate resemblance to the scarlet facings of the British. He wisely accepted the stern advice from sympathetic militia officers, had secured a coat of blue, his staff doing the same. But a Continental uniform did not guarantee safe passage, nor a warm meal. Though they had received hospitality, they were also confronted by unexpected hostility, and the message had been made plain. This was a divided land, peopled by those whose loyalties lay clearly in two separate camps. It was his first surprise, that not every American believed in this Revolution, that from one farmhouse to the next might come a complete change in sympathy, some of these people still holding tightly to their allegiance to King George.
Von Steuben had left the Prussian army nearly fifteen years before, something the congress did not know, and something Franklin had neglected to mention in his letter. A man whose talents were distinctly military had endured difficult years as a civilian, and when von Steuben had recently sought another military position, King Frederick had advised him to travel to France. Every soldier knows that war creates opportunity, and despite the glowing portrait Ben Franklin had painted for the congress, von Steuben had gone to France merely in search of much-needed employment. Now, on the snowy plateau of Valley Forge, he had been received and celebrated as an honored guest.
As he studied the army he had come to serve, as he pored through the records Washington provided him, studied the structure and behavior of the Continental Army, his thoughts turned to those skills he had already mastered. Von Steuben understood more than any man in America the kind of discipline and training that was required to stand up against the might of the British.
Throughout that first inspection of the army, he had seen not only the tragedy of their dress, but the pride in their brotherhood. As he and Washington had ridden slowly through the formation, they had saluted him with raucous cheers. He knew that Washington had intended it to be a show for the Prussian. But von Steuben saw their faces, could see where the attention was focused, knew that their show of emotional enthusiasm was less for some Prussian soldier than for their commanding general. It was the intangible ingredient of every great army, the love of the troops for the leader they served. Despite his dismay at their appearance, he could feel that these men bore the hearts of soldiers, that strange and frightening force that drove men to march into the guns of their enemy. It was the first great challenge to building an effective army, and Washington had