The Glorious Cause

by Jeff Shaara

  Lafayette had kept his enthusiasm in check, would not reveal to anyone in the headquarters what this command had meant. His first major experience in the field had come during the retreat at Brandywine, where he had received the wound. He had been teased by Nathanael Greene, the Rhode Islander cautioning Washington that this young man was determined to place himself in danger. While the army was making their first preparations to leave Valley Forge, Washington had given him charge of large-scale scouting parties near Philadelphia, one which had resulted in a sharp fight with a regiment of Hessians, another which had nearly cost Lafayette his entire force of three hundred men. It was a daring, and some had said foolish, confrontation with a large body of British regulars under Charles Grey. But the intelligence gained had been crucial, and Lafayette had escaped the danger with a slippery tactic that had left the British baffled. More importantly, the maneuver had demonstrated to Washington that the young man could handle himself well on dangerous ground.

  He had his critics still, mainly those French officers who felt some insult at his closeness with Washington. He knew that many of them had come to America for the wrong reason, to return home as heroes, bearing the trophy of grateful appreciation of this new nation. It was all about prestige, a demonstration for King Louis as a sign of their worthiness for a similar role in the French army. Yet most had shown very little in their service to the Americans that would bring any prestige at all, so many of them more concerned with their rank and authority than in doing any kind of good service to a cause. The worst had been Phillippe du Coudray, the ridiculous martinet who demanded a lofty position second only to Washington. Du Coudray had then begun his service by suggesting that perhaps Washington should step aside as well. But the problems brought by du Coudray had solved themselves. The man seemed to think himself worthy of a veritable walk on water, the result that he carelessly tumbled himself and his horse into the Schuylkill River. The horse survived. Du Coudray did not.

  Lafayette knew that tongues were probably wagging behind him. And as he rode with the lead units of his column, he could not avoid thinking of Louis, what the king might have said when he learned that Washington had given this twenty-year-old such responsibility. He was not sure if Louis was angry at him even now, Lafayette slipping out of France in such blatant disobedience of His Majesty’s wishes. But there had been no official summons, no letter of reprimand. He knew that Louis would have his momentary tantrum, spout some heated epithets that would quickly be forgotten. Ultimately, Louis would accept that this young officer would either disappear into this strange American wilderness, a casualty of war perhaps, or would rise as a genuine hero. But as much as he sought a command of his own, he rarely imagined himself in some kind of heroic role. Lafayette had been driven by a quest that would seem unusually humble to his king, and to many of the other Frenchmen around him. Though the most unkind talk assumed the foreign officers to be of one cloth, the rabid ambitious quest for notoriety, Lafayette had only sought the opportunity that Washington had now given him.

  As the daylight brought another stifling wave of heat over Englishtown, more troops had appeared, Washington sending reinforcements to Lafayette’s command. He had expected to receive new orders, some update from Washington, word of Clinton’s response to this pursuit. But the only word had come from the scouts, and from von Steuben, who was only two miles from the British position. Clinton had halted his column around Monmouth, was shifting the marching order of his troops, putting the more elite units toward the rear, the Hessians more to the front. It was a logical move with the approach of Lafayette’s forces, moving the stronger regiments, the Grenadiers, Queen’s Rangers, the Highlanders, closer to the vast line of British wagons. It was clear evidence that Clinton believed the wagons would be the target of such a large force. But Lafayette’s orders said nothing about capturing supplies. He knew that Clinton’s halt was simply a mistake, another critical delay that might cost the British a safe escape.

  As the sun climbed higher, the men had rested, and the day had passed with the army continuing to gather strength, men now storing up water and preparing food, making ready for the last march toward the enemy. He watched as another small column appeared from the west, men in white shirts, their faces shielded from the sun by wide round hats. They moved past him, and officers appeared, led them into the camp, where the rest of his men were tending to their muskets. They would gather quietly in the shady places, waiting for the order that would send them back into the sandy road. The column was past him, and he still expected to see a rider, some new word from Washington, was confident that the main army was no more than five or six miles behind him. He could feel the heat from the horse beneath him, looked toward a small stand of trees, thought, No need for you to suffer this. He began to move toward the shade, saw Anthony Wayne, one aide trailing behind him, their horses coated with a slick wetness.

  “General, we are prepared to advance.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wayne. We are awaiting final instructions from General Washington. I have sent him the reports of the enemy’s position.”

  “We should not wait too long. I’m certain Clinton won’t.”

  He knew of Wayne’s brash impatience, something so very rare in this army. It had led Wayne to some difficulties on the battlefield, and his straightforward tactics had won him both critics and admirers. Wayne’s dogged style might not always have been the right strategy, but to many, including Washington, it was a tonic that had often been sorely missed.

  Wayne followed him toward the trees, and now both men turned at the fresh sound of hoofbeats in the road. He expected to see Washington’s courier, was surprised at the small thin figure leading a pair of hounds. It was Charles Lee.

  I must admit, General Lafayette, that i did not believe this mission would actually come to pass. Once I was aware that General Washington had increased the number of troops in this command to near six thousand, I felt it was unwise for a junior officer such as yourself to maintain such important authority. This is a position best suited for the second in command of the army. I trust you agree?”

  Lafayette read the letter in his hand, Washington’s order. It was wisely written, giving Lafayette continued authority if an attack was already in progress. But, with the troops still at Englishtown, Lee could assume overall command with no disruption. He handed the letter to Wayne beside him, said, “Yes, General Lee. You are correct. It is entirely appropriate for this command to be under your authority.”

  “Ah, yes. Good, then. I shall make my headquarters in this house. You shall report to me here with any information you receive as to the enemy’s disposition and activity.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you have any specific instructions for me, sir? Do you wish to place me in command of any troops?”

  Lee seemed surprised by the question, thought a moment, said, “Do whatever you have been doing, General. You’re supposed to know your duty. General Wayne, if he’s not certain, you may instruct him. Now, good day.”

  They moved outside, and Wayne stepped out in front of him, passed by the horses, walked out into the dusty roadway. He spun around, faced him, said, “Instruct you? You are my senior officer. How could you stand before that man and maintain such . . . calm? He is only here because he suddenly realized he might miss out on a chance for some glory!”

  “The orders from General Washington are clear. General Lee is in command here. We are not privy to the reasons for his change of mind.”

  “It does not require intellect to see that Lee could not just sit back there while you . . . well, he could hardly allow himself to sit idly by while a Frenchman leads this attack. I mean no offense, sir.”

  He had held tightly to his disappointment, but did not feel the kind of anger Wayne was showing toward Lee. The responsibility for a command this size had surprised him. Lafayette looked to the west, the sun moving lower.

  “We are very close to the enemy, a march of two hours. This night will better be spent in planning the attack. Gener
al Lee must make the dispositions.”

  “So, dawn, then?”

  Lafayette looked at Wayne, saw the deep scowl, the man’s disgust clearly evident.

  “It is sound strategy, General. There can be no assault now, it is too late in the day.”

  Wayne turned in the road again, paced a few steps, turned.

  “All right. Dawn. I hope you’re correct. If we wait any longer, Clinton will be gone. I wish I had your faith in General Lee.”

  Lafayette said nothing, fought through his disappointment still. It is not about faith. He is in command. We have no alternative.

  As the sun went down, the order came from Washington. it was assumed that by morning Clinton would again begin his march, would spread his forces in a long vulnerable line. Lee was instructed to attack wherever opportunity presented itself, to send his troops in a hard wave against Clinton’s flank or rear, holding the British in place while Washington brought the rest of the army up to expand the attack into a full-scale engagement. Late in the evening, Lee had sent out word of a meeting of his senior commanders, and the men expected a detailed briefing on their places in the line, a map of the tactics they would bring to the field. As the men gathered at Lee’s headquarters, they found no one waiting for them but an embarrassed aide. There were no plans prepared, no maps sketched. Lee himself was nowhere to be found, had ridden out into the night, leaving his aide with no instructions at all. The meeting erupted into angry turmoil, Wayne leading the officers back to their camps. They had no choice now but to wait for some further instructions. No one but Lee was authorized to put the brigades and regiments into some order of march, no one but Lee could organize this attack.

  Since Lee’s arrival at Englishtown, Lafayette had been given no troops to command, no real responsibility at all. As the other commanders stewed furiously in their camps, Lafayette rode out to find General Lee.

  The aide could only offer some hint, that if Lee did not stay within the boundaries of the small village, he would certainly keep to the road that led north. It was a reasonable guess, the one safe direction.

  Lafayette moved the horse in slow steps, then stopped, stared out through total darkness, listened. He had repeated the routine now for several hundred yards, the only sound the low hum and chirp of the insects. He began to move again, but a new sound broke through, and he waited, could hear the slow rhythm of a horse.

  “Sir! General Lafayette! We have found him, sir.”

  The aides had ridden ahead with a trio of guards, Wayne’s men, had explored each road and path, knew to find Lafayette here on the main road.

  He pulled the match from his pocket, made a short hard stroke against the metal of his short scabbard. The small flame made a soft glow on the road, and Lafayette held the match close to his own face, said, “Thank you, Sergeant. Is he far ahead?”

  “No, sir. We came across his aide up the road a ways. The man was scared out of his wits, settin’ alone in the dark. Said General Lee’s right up the hill there, this open field.”

  “Very well. I will go alone now. You may remain here. Make yourself heard if there is any sign of trouble.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He followed the man’s directions, the trees thinning, the ground rising to a starry sky. He saw Lee now, framed against the horizon. The man seemed aware of the voices in the road, sat upright on his horse. Lafayette moved up the hill, said aloud, “General Lee. It is Lafayette, sir.”

  The response came from the dogs, a sudden cascade of barking. They were around him now, the horse dancing slightly, avoiding them. Lafayette rode close now, said, “Forgive the intrusion, sir. We were concerned about you.”

  “Unnecessary. I required solitude. Only way for a man to think properly.”

  “Yes, sir. You had summoned us . . . the commanders. There is concern about our plan for tomorrow.”

  “You’re damned right there is concern. By morning, the entire British army will be sweeping down on us like a pack of wolves on a chicken coop. I have sent word to General Washington to expect an attack on this front. If we are not vigilant, they may catch us still in our beds!”

  Lafayette could hear urgency in the man’s voice, tried to see his expression.

  “You sent the general . . . you believe we are to be attacked?”

  “Those are professionals out there, Mr. Lafayette! The very notion that your outrageous band of amateurs, these farmers, can dare to stand in the same field with the might of King George’s finest soldiers! The more I consider the arrogance . . . Washington, Greene, the rest of you! Tell me, General Lafayette, what do you know of the British army? What have you come here to do? You dare to hope that these militia will make some brave show? We cannot stand up to them on this ground or any other.”

  He fought through the shock of Lee’s words, felt a hot burn on his face. He stared down through the darkness, said in a low voice, “Sir, we have . . . you have General Washington’s orders. We are to attack the British in the morning. Do you intend to carry out those orders?”

  Lee’s voice burst out across the field. “How dare you question me! Certainly! I will follow the instructions I have been given!” He leaned closer, said, “Let me advise you, General Lafayette. I will bear no responsibility for the outcome. I have warned Washington, and I am warning you.”

  NEAR MONMOUTH COURT HOUSE, JUNE 28, 1778

  They began the march at three o’clock, none of the commanders having received orders as to their places on the field. By the first light, they could see the ground before them, deep, winding ravines, roadways cutting through on narrow causeways, curving stretches of high ground. Beyond the ravines were high rolling fields, and farther still, the small village, the main road cutting through small houses and the one large courthouse. He could see the vast field was alive with motion, that what had begun as the British march had been abruptly halted, vast formations of red-coated troops forming to receive them. He was surprised to see that the Americans, who had actually marched beyond the British position, were in position to cut off their march completely, turn the lead units back into their main body. He glassed the wide field with a rising excitement, thought, This is truly a . . . marvelous opportunity. With enough of a thrust, they may be driven completely away from this ground, with no escape but the way they have come. He looked to the west, the sky still dull gray. He knew Washington would be on the move already. If there is good fortune on this ground, General, you will arrive in time to confront disarray in the enemy lines. The result could be a perfect rout!

  Several of the regiments had crossed over the last of the ravines, and the larger body of men was swarming along the causeways in tight precision, the astounding result of von Steuben’s good work. Lee was riding the ridges, and Lafayette moved with him, could only wonder about the man’s strange temperament, none of last night’s doubts evident in Lee’s actions. The brigadiers were sending word in now, aides for Maxwell and Varnum, Grayson, Stewart and Wayne, all seeking orders, some final command that would send the great wave forward against an enemy who was already showing signs of disorder. Lee listened to the requests, sat firmly, silently, raised his field glasses, said, “What are they doing? Is that . . . who is that? Wayne? Varnum? He is too far advanced. Order those men on that rise to countermarch! Where is Grayson?”

  The swirl of men around Lee seemed to settle into a strange paralysis, and Lafayette said, “I will find out, sir.”

  He had no orders, spurred the horse away from the huddled couriers, rode along a narrow strip of high ground. The field beyond was now a mass of troops, a solid line of white and brown. He reached the field, rode hard, the horse skipping through short grass, saw horsemen near the crest of the hill, moved that way. He would not allow himself anger, not yet, the ground in front of him too near an eruption of chaos. He could see Wayne, shouted as he reined the horse, “What is your situation, General?”

  “My situation? See for yourself! The enemy is pulling away! They’re giving ground, and we haven�
�t begun the attack! Do you have orders? Are we to attack?”

  He could see beyond the lines of Wayne’s men, scattered groups of red, some moving behind fences, others slipping into patches of woods. Far up on the main road, a column was advancing, flags and horses, more British troops moving to the field. My God, the time is . . . now! We should reinforce these men! He gripped the reins in frustration, said, “We have no orders, General Wayne! General Lee is concerned you are too far in advance!”

  “Too far . . . ? By damn, send me another brigade, and I will sweep the enemy off this ground! What manner of plan is there?”

  Lafayette could see the faces of the men, the good troops watching him, hearing the words of their commander.

  “I have nothing to tell you, General Wayne, except . . . in the judgment of General Lee, you are in the wrong position.”

  “Well, then, sir, you may go back to General Lee and advise him I will correct my error.”

  Wayne spun his horse around, moved out in front of his men, shouted, “Do you see the enemy?”

  The line erupted into a loud cheer, and he caught Wayne’s eye, a quick nod, the man now turning away, his sword in the air, his troops moving in one sharp line toward the uncertain formations of the British.

  Lafayette would not watch, knew that Wayne was right, but it was only one brigade, and the enemy would surely re-form. He pulled the horse back toward the ravine, his heart pounding in his ears, thought, Lee has no plan! There is no plan at all! He is sending orders to men he has never met, to troops he has never seen, in positions he has not scouted. God help us, this day may depend on the brigadiers, after all!