The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [277]
“So General Rochambeau wishes to meet with me because he prefers not to grant you such a place of importance in this command.”
“That is a fair statement, sir. The general believes I was too zealous in seeking the command more suited to his experience.”
“He may be correct, Mr. Lafayette. Do not take offense. You have a place in this army, and my absolute confidence. In General Rochambeau’s army, you are still a captain. You must respect that. Did you leave your meeting on good terms?”
“Yes, sir, I assure you. I offered the general my apology, and he responded by assuring me that he bears no ill will. He considers that we are much like father and son.”
Washington hid a smile.
“I rather understand that, Mr. Lafayette.”
ROCHAMBEAU WAS A SHORT, THICK MAN, A DARK MOTTLED COMPLEXION on a round face. He met Washington with a wide grasping hug, and Washington had accepted the gesture with some discomfort, was not accustomed to such a physical display from either his officers or anyone else. But Rochambeau filled the awkward silence with a generous flow of compliments, much like the effusive deference in his letter. Lafayette interpreted, and Washington observed both men carefully for any sign of hostility that might cloud the meeting. But Rochambeau seemed unaware of any difficulty with the young man, and after more cordiality, led them to a long oval table, wineglasses already filled. They sat, Rochambeau not taking his eye from Washington. He knew he was being appraised, accepted a toast in French from one of Rochambeau’s officers, followed Lafayette’s lead with the wineglass. Around the table, the talk grew quiet, and Rochambeau said, “I am pleased to tell you, General, that I am in your service. You should know that my orders are to subordinate myself and my soldiers to your superior rank.”
It was the answer to the first looming question, and Washington smiled.
“Cooperation between us can only ensure success, General. Thank you.”
“You should also know, sir, that my king has been very specific that I not endanger my men by removing them from the support of the navy.”
Washington waited for the words to filter through Lafayette, who finished the thought with a slight frown. Washington absorbed the meaning, said, “I had hoped to begin a campaign to remove the British from New York.”
“Ah, yes, sir, and is it appropriate for me to ask if you have the strength in your command to accomplish this?”
“No, General, I do not.”
Rochambeau showed a mask of concern.
“You desire my forces to support yours, yes? It is a reasonable request. However, we are in some difficulty here. By my orders, I cannot abandon the fleet to the dangers from the British blockade. And, if we were to break the blockade, the fleet is not of sufficient number to defeat the British navy at New York.”
“I had hoped, General, that a larger fleet would soon arrive here.”
Rochambeau put his hands in front of him, turned his palms up, a slight shrug.
“I am very sorry, General. That is not so likely to happen. Our efforts in the West Indies, and along our own shores have exhausted our resources.”
Washington felt the air leaving the room. So, there are six thousand French troops who will not leave Newport, and ten warships that are too few to make any attack on the British. Rochambeau drank from his wineglass, said, “Forgive me, General, but I must ask you a question that is commonly heard in my country. Why have you been unable to raise such strength as you require? A nation this large would suggest an army that could not be contained from one British base in New York. I apologize if this is offensive to you, General Washington, but we do not understand why America has not already won this war.”
It was not offensive, but Washington felt the familiar frustrations, the same questions and pleas he had made to the congress. He waited for a long moment, and Lafayette was staring at him, seemed ready to burst. Washington put a hand out toward the young man, shook his head, a silent command,