The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [228]
Washington let the words flow past, said, “As you know, I have ordered a pursuit of the enemy’s march.” He reached down into a drawer, retrieved a map, turned it toward Lee. “We will advance along this route…here, seeking the enemy’s flank at every opportunity.”
Lee seemed to ignore the map, sat back in the chair.
“Foolish. Dangerous.”
“I cannot ignore our one opportunity, Mr. Lee. And I will not. A force of some five thousand men will advance on that route. I would suggest you become familiar with the map.”
“I don’t make much use of maps, George. Why this one?”
“This is an important command. As second in seniority, this is a duty that should fall to you. Will you accept?”
“Why your second in command? Why not you?”
“I will remain somewhat to the rear of the advance force with nearly equal strength. This will offer us options in the event the enemy changes direction, or some unforeseen danger arises.”
Lee thought a moment, shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate, George. The men know I don’t support this plan. Might make me look a bit foolish to go riding out in front of an attack that I don’t expect to succeed. You have a number of good officers, surely you can find one who will accept such a command. Give it to one of your young ones. From what I’ve seen, some of them require a lesson in strategy. They will learn it from Henry Clinton.”
Lee leaned over now, focused on his dogs, and Washington stared at him, the heat rising in his face. He said nothing, watched as Lee made childlike sounds to the animals, and Lee looked up at him, said, “Is there anything else?”
“No, Mr. Lee. You may leave.”
Lee stood, the dogs now bounding to life, bursting out through the door, their master close behind. The house was suddenly silent, and Washington felt a dull throb in the base of his neck, massaged it with his hand. His mind was blank, numbed by the shock of Lee’s words, his refusal to lead such an important mission. He saw Tilghman, peering around the door.
“Sir? Can I get you anything?”
He looked up at the young man, continued to rub the stiffening pain, said, “Not at the moment, Colonel. You may retire.”
“Thank you, sir. With your permission, I will remain a while longer. I have a letter to complete. My brother, in Maryland.”
“By all means, Colonel. Offer him my regards.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Tilghman was gone, and Washington rose slowly, moved to the window, the stifling stillness giving way to a light breeze. His mind boiled with thoughts of Lee, the snide little man so different now than the good subordinate he had once been. He stared into darkness, thought, If Mr. Lee finds this mission so not to his liking, then I shall do as he suggests. I shall offer the mission to one of the younger ones, someone who has demonstrated a zeal for the fight, someone who understands that making use of this army is the only means we have of success. And I do not believe anyone in my command need learn any lessons from Henry Clinton. He pushed away the image of Lee, thought of the young Frenchman.
“Colonel?”
Tilghman appeared, said, “Sir?”
“Send for Mr. Lafayette. Express my apologies for the late hour, but I require his presence.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tilghman was gone quickly, and he heard the door of the small house closing, Tilghman’s voice breaking the darkness, summoning the groom. He waited for the hoofbeats, moved back to the desk, stood a moment, thought, You have been patient beyond measure, Mr. Lafayette. It is time for your reward. If Mr. Lee does not wish this command, than it shall be yours.
37. LAFAYETTE
ENGLISHTOWN, NEW JERSEY, JUNE 27, 1778
THEY HAD MARCHED ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT, AND WERE NOW within five miles of the enemy camp, the crossroads at Monmouth Court House. The night march had been a blessing for the men, most not realizing that it was urgency rather than concern for their well-being. The days had been insufferably hot, the