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384 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
A dozen or more topers sat on stools in the smoke-thick room lit by a few guttering oil lamps. Decades if soot had blackened the low beams of the ceiling, and the aroma of tobacco permeated the wood. The serving wench put a tankard of beer in the American's hand as soon as he walked through the door.
"What did you say your name was?" Rochambeau's new friend asked.
"Jean Baptiste Donatien de Vimeur, comte de Rochambeau."
"Rush'Em Boys?"
"Non." The savoir of America enunciated carefully. "Row-sham-bow."
The American raised his tankard for attention. "Lads, meet Mr. Rush'Em Boys." He waved his tankard and christened Rochambeau's new name by spilling beer down the front of the count's uniform. "Him and his chums are Frogs."