The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [45]
Putnam’s division had made their escape, exhausted men who had survived the incredible journey up the long route of the Bloomingdale Road, a forced march led by the furious tenacity of their commander. Though Knox had left behind many of his guns, and the men had given up far more of their supplies than the army could afford to lose, four thousand troops had slipped past an enemy three times their number and were now safely in Harlem Heights.
With Howe’s occupation of New York, Washington had one other concern, could not keep it from his mind. Nathanael Greene was in a sickbed in the city, would surely have been captured, had von Donop’s Hessians not been so interested in plunder. As the bleak night wore on, General Greene had made his escape as well, had ridden safely to the Heights, his arrival an astonishing, joyful surprise.
Washington was still out on the point of rocks, the horse quiet beneath him, could still hear the sound of shovels, the army doing its work to make the high ground safer still. The word of Greene’s return had come from his staff, and he had sent them away, did not respond to their curiosity, why he did not join the welcome. He was enormously relieved that Greene had returned, perhaps too much so, felt a strange release of emotion at the news, but he kept it to himself, would not allow the staff to see him that way. There had been enough emotion today, this shameful, awful day. He was embarrassed still by his show of anger at his troops, and though no one else seemed to fault him, though no indiscreet comments came to him, he knew it had been a serious mistake to lose control of his demeanor. He felt the opposite about Greene, not rage, but pure joyful relief. The staff and the other senior officers already knew how much he valued Greene. When Greene had fallen ill, there was talk among the doctors that he might not survive, and Washington had been surprised at his emotions, a fear and sadness he was ashamed to admit. We are all soldiers, and General Greene is as likely as any of us to be killed. But I do need him. Beyond the politics, all the jealousies that infest this army, there is an honesty in the man, something I truly need.
As it grew late, the rain had begun to slacken, the first stars appearing, clouds drifting apart. It was only then that he had sent for Greene, knew the man might still be fragile from the illness. He would not ask him to endure the weather any more than he already had. He stared still toward the open plain in front of the Heights, as he had done at Brooklyn, wondered if the British would form the same way, a vast thick line. Behind him, he could hear the dull plod of a horse’s hooves.
“Not such a pleasant day, I understand.”
The voice was Greene’s, and Washington did not look at him.
“It was not a pleasant day.”
“Your Mr. Tilghman asked me if I would inform you that Colonel Smallwood has brought his men in.”
Washington nodded, said, “Very good. Fine officer.”
Greene moved his horse close up beside him, seemed to lower his voice.
“From what I’ve heard, yes. If anything is to come of this fight, we will need fine officers. We will need good soldiers as well. Could have used some today, so I’m told.”
Washington had tried to erase the image from his mind, fought it now, could still see the men running away, leaving their positions in the face of a mere handful of the enemy.
“I do not wish to experience another day like today. I shouted out to them, shamelessly, even cursed them.”
“Did they not deserve it?”
He stared into the darkness, more stars now appearing.
“I have wondered, Mr. Greene, is this the army with which I am to defend America? Can we do no better than to scamper away? We have done nothing but give up every patch of ground we have been required