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By Root 1385 0

had virtually ceased to be. But as deep as their surprise, the civilians could not be as profoundly surprised as their commander in chief. Washington had sat tall on the white horse as the men had gone through their drill, had watched in amazement as they performed a stunning feat of musketry, long lines of troops, each man firing his musket in turn, one by one, all along the line, a display of perfect synchronization. It was a show worthy of any professional army in Europe, and Washington had absorbed the spectacle with a brief look to the one man who had brought it into being. Von Steuben had watched the drill with stern-faced pride, the regiments and brigades moving in crisp rhythm, performing the marches with flawless perfection. The Prussian’s stiff countenance had broken only once, and he had returned Washington’s look with a sly smile, acknowledging his commander’s silent salute. He knew, as Washington knew, as every man in formation knew, that this was a different army than what had first come to this place, than the men who had struggled to build their small log city. With the new spring had come a renewed spirit and a new pride. They had, after all, survived the most dire hardships of their lives. And the reward, besides the discipline and camaraderie the Prussian had taught them, was an alliance with France.

For the first time since the war had begun, Washington faced the start of a new campaign with a strange and unexpected eagerness. For the first time, it might not be necessary to wait for the enemy to show his intentions. For the first time, Washington’s army was prepared to make a fight on its own terms.

34. GREENE

MAY 19, 1778

HIS VISITS TO THE CAMP WERE MORE FREQUENT NOW. THE quartermaster staff in York and in the outposts all through the adjoining states were operating with the same renewed spirit as the army they provided for, and Greene had confidence that they no longer required his heavy hand and his temper to perform their jobs. Though he still held the office, and the responsibility, with the coming of spring came the renewed threat of a campaign by the British, and Washington had made good his promise, that Greene would still hold his command in the field.

He needed very little incentive to return to Valley Forge. When Martha Washington came to headquarters, it had opened the way for other wives as well. Leaving the children in safe hands, Kitty had come down from Rhode Island, she and the infant both now recovered from the difficult ordeal of childbirth. The year before, at Morristown, she had arrived so close to the time the army would return to the field, that their brief time together had been more painful than comforting. But now there was time, and she had made them a home, close to the other commanders’ wives. Even if her husband could not always be a part of the dinners and festivities, Kitty Greene had quickly become popular, especially with the foreign officers. She had a moderate skill with French, and opened their quarters to gatherings for those officers whose poor English had often kept them isolated. Her willingness to offer a softer side to conversation was appreciated by the men who had kept so much to themselves, so accustomed only to the companionship of soldiers. She had also become a favorite of Martha Washington, the two women sharing the modest sense of hospitality, both making known their quiet disapproval of card games or excessive drinking. Kitty shared Martha’s love for singing, and even if neither woman had a particular talent for the art, together they were formidable partners, could encourage even the most unwilling officer to participate in the after-dinner entertainment.

IT WOULD LIKELY BE A TYPICAL EVENING AT THE HEADQUARTERS, THE OFFICERS now escorting their wives out of the carriages. He held her arm in his, walked out away from the house, careful to avoid any patches of mud. The roads were hard, broken only by small puddles from a brisk rain shower, a slight chill to the soft morning. But the day had warmed bright and clear, all signs of the dismal