The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [286]
PREAKNESS, NEW JERSEY, OCTOBER 22, 1780
“Mr. Greene, we are faced with a crisis of some urgency.”
He looked at Washington with a strange urge to laugh, the words so completely familiar.
“Yes, sir.”
“You are aware by now of the difficulties which Mr. Gates has suffered. This army has survived an astounding volume of catastrophe, and I am confident we will survive this one as well. It has become something of a lesson for me, that positive change is often born of disaster.”
“Would it not be better if we could avoid disaster altogether?”
Washington looked at him, cocked his head to one side.
“Who, in this army, is capable of such a feat?”
Greene knew the question applied to him as well, his own failure at Fort Washington still a scar.
“Mr. Greene, the congress has placed in my hands the authority to select a successor to General Gates. In times of crisis, their confidence in my ability shows considerable increase.” Washington paused. “No, that is not appropriate. There are many still in that body to whom this nation is indebted.”
“And a good many to whom we are not, sir.”
Washington said nothing.
“My apologies, sir. I did not mean to suggest the congress is opposed to our cause.”
“Mr. Greene, there is no one who has endured the arrows of that body more than you. But you have friends as well.”
“I may have friends, sir. The quartermaster general does not.”
“That’s why I sent for you. Your duties in that department have, for the most part, been terminated. Once your accounts have been settled, you are free to assume a new post.”
Greene had already heard the talk. As word of Gates’ defeat flew through the army, it inspired all manner of speculation, some aimed directly at him. The summons to Washington’s headquarters had put the rumors in a new light, Greene allowing himself to believe that the talk was not so far-fetched after all.
“Most of my accounts are settled now, sir. There is some dispute as you know, some members of the congress who will not accept anything I submit without assuming some dastardly scheme on my part.”
“Those voices have grown quiet in recent days, Mr. Greene. One more benefit of a sudden crisis. I am recommending to the congress that you be granted the appointment as commander in chief of the Southern Department.”
He had expected it, but the words seemed unreal. He looked at Washington, saw no change of expression, the message matter-of-fact. Greene didn’t know what to say.
“May I assume this meets with your approval, Mr. Greene?”
He could not hide his smile.
“Quite so, sir.”
“I have not been informed of either the strength of the enemy’s forces, or our own. I can give you no particular instructions. I must leave you to govern your actions entirely according to your own judgment, and the circumstances of that command. You may realize nothing more than embarrassment, Mr. Greene. But I can rely on no other officer in this army with a responsibility so grave.”
“Thank you, sir. Will the congress agree?”
Washington smiled, the first break in his sober mood.
“Consider, Mr. Greene, your most vocal opponents. Whether or not they appreciate the gravity of this duty, or the depth of my confidence in you, some of them will certainly delight in seeing you gone.”
NOVEMBER 1780
The appointment required Greene to appear before the congress, and he was surprised to see that Washington was entirely correct. Even those who had spoken of him with such bile made a show of gratefulness toward his good service, so many offering their unguarded assurances that command in the Southern Department would now be in the most qualified hands. Whether his former enemies shared Washington’s faith in his abilities or simply