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638 pages, Hardcover
Published October 29, 2002
(Washington and Nathanael Greene) moved into a wide trail, the dirty snow banked high to one side. They were among the cabins now, and Washington saw a small open campfire, unusual, pulled the horse that way. There were four men, and they stood now, surprised, and Washington could see a metal pot hung above the fire, a rising column of steam.Washington and Greene left, and Washington was furious. He sent Greene to the congress to take over as quartermaster general and the congress agreed. Greene did this reluctantly, but he got shit done, and supplies started going where they were supposed to and arriving in fit condition.
"Gentlemen, do not let us disturb you. Are you cooking?"
They glanced at each other, and one man raised a spoon from the pot, poured the dark brown liquid into a small cup.
"Aye, sir. Soup, it is. One of the fellows here got a might lucky chasin' a rabbit. This here pot's done made us several days of good eatin'."
Greene moved the horse forward, closer to the fire, said, "Several days? How big was the rabbit?"
"Oh, the Rabbit's been gone a while now, sir."
The men stirred the bubbling brew, and Washington could see something round and dark, the spoon knocking it with a metallic click.
"What is in the soup, soldier?"
The man moved the object around, said, "That'd be a rock, sir. We always hear tell that there's strength in rocks. We figured if we boil it a while, it might lend something to the soup."
Greene leaned out, looked down into the pot.
"That appears to be... leaves. Seems your soup is a bit... soiled."
The man spooned up the bits of brown.
"Oh, no, sir. Not only leaves, but pine needles as well. The best soup has to have... vegetables."
Cornwallis believed resolutely in his plan. Henry Clinton had other ideas.That's one of the advantages we had over the Brits. Washington and friends weren't quite as shackled by the big wigs when it came to strategy and tactics, and there wouldn't be any major repercussions if their subordinates went out on their own if they had a tactical advantage. This level of freedom can also backfire as it did a couple of times and the damage was severe enough that the commanders were relieved of command and one even court-martialed. But making a move without an okay was not okay in the British army at all.
The letters has awaited him from his first days on the peninsula, arriving in small clusters. It was the disadvantage of distance, Clinton penning the letters days apart, Cornwallis received them in one mass all at the same time. He laid them out on the table, cocked his head toward O'Hara, said, "Would you suggest I read these in the order they were written, or would it be more prudent to relay them to you in the order of their insanity?"
He had lost his fear of speaking indiscreetly about his superior, emboldened by distance, of course, but more, by what seemed to be a collapse of Clinton's ability to command. O'Hara was not as comfortable with Cornwallis' whimsical attitude, said, "The most recent would be the most important, I would think. It would be a product of the latest information, would contain the orders that we would be expected to follow."
Cornwallis ignored the minor admonition from O'Hara.
"All right then, General but I should warn you. You will not appreciate the level of comedy under which I must function if all you hear is the latest order."
(Succession of orders which are pretty whackadoodle. O'Hara suggests that the most recent one must be obeyed.)
"Oh, quite! And obey it we shall! That is, only until we receive the next one."
His good humor was a mask for the complete fury that had boiled up inside him... "I have considered it a Divine blessing to have been in command so far from the reach of that man. Never was that so clear than right now. For better than a year I have engaged the enemy at every bloody opportunity. I have given my king everything a soldier must give. My reward is to endure haranguing buffoonery from my superior who sits in idleness in his mansion in New York and wrestles with demons of his own creation. The rebels are planning to attack New York. Or perhaps not. The French navy is a threat to us, so we must build a secure port. Or perhaps not. When I arrived here, I received word that General Clinton was displeased that I had sailed away from the Carolinas. I am wondering if I should return there, transport this command back to Charleston. Not only would General Clinton find that pleasing, but it might be the only means I have of escaping him."
"Sir, surely there is good work for us to do here."
"Where? Virginia? New York? Philadelphia? I am to maneuver this army by whim. We are without strategy, without the guiding hand of a commander who sees beyond his own convenience."
O'Hara shifted in his chair again.
"Sir, we must still obey our orders."
"Without fail, General. Without fail."