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By Root 1292 0

sand and dust of the roads smothering the British soldiers in a blanket of heat many could not escape. Even before Lafayette had begun his march, his men had been allowed to shed their coats and shirts, any baggage that would encumber them in the heat. But the British soldiers had no such luxury. Their uniforms had not changed since the stark days of winter, thick wool, layers of heavy garments that grew heavier on the march. Worse, each red-coated soldier carried arms and equipment that weighed nearly a hundred pounds. The result was an unexpected horror for Washington’s scouts, the men who trailed the British column. Instead of stragglers they were finding corpses, men who had simply fallen away from their column, some drifting off the road only to die in the sand and scrub woods. Washington knew that Clinton was driving them relentlessly toward the ships. If the British were not attacked very soon, they would reach the protection of the hill country nearer the coast.

Lafayette had kept his enthusiasm in check, would not reveal to anyone in the headquarters what this command had meant. His first major experience in the field had come during the retreat at Brandywine, where he had received the wound. He had been teased by Nathanael Greene, the Rhode Islander cautioning Washington that this young man was determined to place himself in danger. While the army was making their first preparations to leave Valley Forge, Washington had given him charge of large-scale scouting parties near Philadelphia, one which had resulted in a sharp fight with a regiment of Hessians, another which had nearly cost Lafayette his entire force of three hundred men. It was a daring, and some had said foolish, confrontation with a large body of British regulars under Charles Grey. But the intelligence gained had been crucial, and Lafayette had escaped the danger with a slippery tactic that had left the British baffled. More importantly, the maneuver had demonstrated to Washington that the young man could handle himself well on dangerous ground.

He had his critics still, mainly those French officers who felt some insult at his closeness with Washington. He knew that many of them had come to America for the wrong reason, to return home as heroes, bearing the trophy of grateful appreciation of this new nation. It was all about prestige, a demonstration for King Louis as a sign of their worthiness for a similar role in the French army. Yet most had shown very little in their service to the Americans that would bring any prestige at all, so many of them more concerned with their rank and authority than in doing any kind of good service to a cause. The worst had been Phillippe du Coudray, the ridiculous martinet who demanded a lofty position second only to Washington. Du Coudray had then begun his service by suggesting that perhaps Washington should step aside as well. But the problems brought by du Coudray had solved themselves. The man seemed to think himself worthy of a veritable walk on water, the result that he carelessly tumbled himself and his horse into the Schuylkill River. The horse survived. Du Coudray did not.

Lafayette knew that tongues were probably wagging behind him. And as he rode with the lead units of his column, he could not avoid thinking of Louis, what the king might have said when he learned that Washington had given this twenty-year-old such responsibility. He was not sure if Louis was angry at him even now, Lafayette slipping out of France in such blatant disobedience of His Majesty’s wishes. But there had been no official summons, no letter of reprimand. He knew that Louis would have his momentary tantrum, spout some heated epithets that would quickly be forgotten. Ultimately, Louis would accept that this young officer would either disappear into this strange American wilderness, a casualty of war perhaps, or would rise as a genuine hero. But as much as he sought a command of his own, he rarely imagined himself in some kind of heroic role. Lafayette had been driven by a quest that would seem unusually humble to his king, and