by Glenn Beck
Washington was living the story of Job.
Like Washington, Job was a prosperous and respected man of his time. He led a charmed life and had seven sons and three daughters. One day God asked Satan what he made of such a righteous man. Satan retorted that Job was only decent because he had been shielded from crisis and suffering by God. If Job were to live without divine protection, if he were to experience loss and catastrophe, Job would surely turn to the dark side.
God tested Job’s resolve by taking everything from him. Despite the hardships, Job remained humble and true and was soon rewarded again for his trust.
If God was indeed watching over Washington and the rebels, then Valley Forge was likely their Job moment. Faced with the loss of everything, they very easily could have given up, or worse, turned against their own cause.
But, led by Washington, they did the opposite. And, just like Job, they were eventually rewarded.
THE STRUGGLE TO KEEP IT ALL TOGETHER
“Naked and starving as [our troops] are,” Washington wrote, “we cannot enough admire the incomparable patience and fidelity of the solider.”
It was that admiration that made the unfathomable suffering and death he saw every day even harder to take. But that wasn’t Washington’s only problem—many men had also decided to return to their families or farms once their conscriptions to the army had ended. Of those who stayed, many complained endlessly about the dreadful conditions and were dragging down morale of everyone. “This is not an army, this is a mob,” one general noted after a visit to the camp.
And some soldiers had more nefarious intentions in mind. There were two thousand colonial deserters during that winter. The British, after all, could pay them in the sound currency of pounds sterling, while the Continentals offered only depreciated, nearly worthless money. (Boy, does that sound uncomfortably familiar.) It’s estimated that around eighty colonists joined the English as spies that season. Consequently, scores of rebel spy rings in and around Philadelphia were exposed, decimating the important intelligence operations that Washington so desperately needed.
Right Man, Right Place, Right Time
There are many great lessons to take away from Valley Forge, but one of the best is that you are only as good as your preparation. We see this so many times in Washington’s life—what seems to be luck or coincidence is really the result of preparation and skill, all guided by the hand of the great Author. And we see it in our lives as well. People who seem to be “overnight successes” are generally those who’ve spent years preparing for the one moment that might decide the rest of their life.
Valley Forge was not the first time Washington had commanded ill-equipped and sickened troops. If it had been, he very likely would’ve failed. Starting as a Virginia regiment militia commander who was charged with defending colonists from vicious frontier Indian attacks, Washington had learned to survive with insufficient supplies in conditions so harsh that even most of his fellow colonists would have found them completely unbearable.
And then there was his experience with suffering. Washington had spent nearly his whole life battling sicknesses (diphtheria, malaria, smallpox, dysentery, quinsy) and fighting against the cruelty of nature—something that had steeled him for this critical winter of the revolution. During the French and Indian War, Washington battled a vicious bout of dysentery. It hit him so hard that rumors of his death began circulating throughout Williamsburg. Though he bounced back from this illness with renewed strength, his familiarity with suffering from disease allowed him to be both empathetic toward the pain of soldiers and strong-willed about their chances of survival.
As a young man, Washington also suffered from numerous bouts of high fever, and “pleurisy.” That was just part of life on the frontier. He’d visited Barbados with his half brother (who would die from tuberculosis) and contracted the often-fatal smallpox. During a widespread epidemic, Washington remained bedridden for at least a month in tremendous pain and with dangerously high fever. The episode left him scarred for life, but it gave him important immunity to the disease; immunity that allowed him to walk with confidence among the sick in Valley Forge.
Without these experiences, he may not have been able to be the rock of strength in Valley Forge. And if he were not personally strong during that awful winter, then how could he ever expect his troops to be?
Not only was Washington assailed by every imaginable obstacle that nature and war could offer, but he was also undermined by his own impotent government. Despite his continual protests, the army was constantly undersupplied and on the verge of dissolution. If it wasn’t the British who were disrupting supply shipments to the troops it was politics, internal strife, and the duplicity of fellow Americans, like army quartermaster general Thomas Mifflin, George Washington’s former aide-de-camp, who had been accused of embezzlement and of ignoring his duties by failing to procure and distribute the food, clothing, and supplies so urgently needed by the army.
Washington was not one to exaggerate the dangers of his situation, yet a few days before the army had even arrived at the winter encampment, Washington was imploring Henry Laurens, president of Congress, to take the situation more seriously. He wrote:
I do not know from what cause this alarming deficiency or rather total failure of Supplies arises; But unless more Vigorous exertions and better regulations take place in that line, and immediately, this Army must dissolve. I have done all in my power by remonstrating, by writing to, by ordering the Commissaries on this Head… but without any good effect, or obtaining more than a present scanty relief.
But, whether because of incompetence or a simple lack of ability to effect real change, it doesn’t seem like Congress was taking the dire warnings of the general very seriously. Before Washington had even taken shelter in Valley Forge, the Pennsylvania legislature had criticized him for pulling his army back to such “luxurious” winter quarters. After a string of military losses, prominent members of the independence movement (even John Adams) and Congress were beginning to question his fitness to command the army. There was even a contingent openly calling for his removal. All of these engineered distractions undermined Washington and his army and put the entire cause of the revolution in serious jeopardy.
Washington did his best to avoid the ugly and divisive world of political intrigue because, as we see throughout his life, he found it beneath the dignity of an honorable man. Not to mention that getting involved in that kind of political back-and-forth would mean revealing top-secret military information that would undermine the larger cause, even though doing so might have helped his position. “My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me,” he wrote to Henry Laurens. “They know I cannot combat their insinuations … without disclosing secrets it is of the utmost moment to conceal.”
There’s a great lesson in that quote for us (especially our politicians) today: put your country above yourself. Always. Washington sat there and took the insults from his critics without responding because he knew that to prove them wrong, he’d have to put out confidential information. Even in the most important of times, like the Constitutional Convention, Washington primarily stayed above the fray, leading by example but never lowering himself to participate in the debate or lob insults at others. Too many times we see our political leaders engaging in petty arguments or hurling insults at others simply to protect their own reputations when they should instead be rising above the noise and doing what is right for the country.
NO BIGOTS NEED APPLY
Despite winter’s hardships, George Washington was still very much focused on victory. He began to welcome new volunteers into camp—and his depleted forces obviously needed the help. Incredibly, and as a testament to his leadership, his army marched out of Valley Forge with more men than it had first set up camp with.
He accomplished that, in part, by being creative—and very open-minded. It was in Valley Forge, for example, that Washington allowed Rhode Island to augment its troop strength by enlisting black soldiers for the first t
ime. Soon after, the state promised to free any slaves willing to join the fight. Other states soon followed Rhode Island’s lead and soon there were, according to some eyewitnesses, more than seven hundred African-American soldiers in the fight. It’s nearly inconceivably to think that a prominent southerner—maybe the most prominent—would not only accept black men into his army, but also assist in the freeing of slaves. It’s a miracle that such a provocative move did not precipitate a mutiny against the commander.
Washington embraced those who embraced the ideals of liberty and were willing to fight for it, no matter their race, religion, profession, or nationality, and he continued to exemplify this quality throughout his life. In his famous 1790 letter as president to the Jews of Rhode Island, he wrote, “To Bigotry No Sanction, to Persecution No Assistance.”
He lived by that motto.
Freedom Fighters
Americans still celebrate this tolerance today—and with very good reason. It’s one reason why so many of us feel kinship with nations like Israel while having disdain for the world’s dictators. Freedom is ingrained in us. If you want to be free, we want to be your friend. Washington was perhaps the first person of great consequence to look at the world in that way.
Washington’s open-mindedness would soon be instrumental in helping the continental troops overcome a huge military disadvantage, turning them from a ragtag crew into a modern (well, as modern as you can get with muskets and three-cornered hats) fighting force to be reckoned with. It was, for example, at Valley Forge that Washington first warmed to the Marquis de Lafayette, a nineteen-year-old French nobleman who was soon to become one his most trusted aides and a hero of the revolution. There were others, like Tadeusz Kościuszko, a Polish engineer who was deeply moved by the Declaration of Independence and helped America achieve victory at Saratoga.
And then, of course, there was Lieutenant General Friedrich Wilhelm Ludolf Gerhard Augustin Baron von Steuben. Washington showed full faith in a flamboyant German who some claimed was as insane as his name was long. In reality he was neither a baron nor a lieutenant general, but he was an experienced drillmaster and, more important, a believer in the cause of liberty.
Baron von Steuben had served in the Prussian army under Frederick the Great, who in many ways was one of the most forward-thinking leaders in Europe at the time. Steuben had learned some of the newest and most innovative military tactics, and his guidance at Valley Forge was immeasurable. If Washington had simply judged him by his language or name, he would’ve never let him anywhere near his troops.
At Valley Forge, Von Steuben became a brilliant drillmaster who tested the adaptability and inner strength of the American forces. He taught the patriot troops how to maneuver in ranks, to use their bayonets effectively, and wheel in formation, rather than haphazardly as they were used to. He taught them how to move from column to column and become more nimble on the battlefield. He was a taskmaster and drilled the troops all day long by using profanities that Washington would surely have frowned upon had they ever been uttered in English.
In the end, Steuben’s methods helped the Americans go toe-to-toe with the British. They were so innovative, in fact, that the instruction manual he authored, with the help of John Laurens (Henry Laurens’s son) and Alexander Hamilton, was used by the United States Army all the way until the Civil War.
The Last Letter
While von Steuben is not a name at the tip of most Americans’ tongues, his place in the revolution was not lost on Washington, who wrote him this gushing letter:
Annapolis, December 23, 1783
My Dear Baron:
Although I have taken frequent opportunities, both in public and private, of acknowledging your zeal, attention and abilities in performing the duties of your office, yet I wish to make use of this last moment of my public life to signify in the strongest terms my entire approbation of your conduct, and to express my sense of the obligations the public is under to you for your faithful and meritorious service.
I beg you will be convinced, my dear Sir, that I should rejoice if it could ever be in my power to serve you more essentially than by expressions of regard and affection. But in the meantime I am persuaded you will not be displeased with this farewell token of my sincere friendship and esteem for you.
This is the last letter I shall ever write while I continue in the service of my country. The hour of my resignation is fixed at twelve this day, after which I shall become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac, where I shall be glad to embrace you, and testify the great esteem and consideration, with which I am, my dear Baron, your most obedient and affectionate servant.
—George Washington
Throughout the war, Washington employed tactics that had previously been unknown to his enemy: he used unreliable militia to harass the British foragers and local Tories; he attacked the main British army from every angle except head-on; and he trained and used sharpshooters to slow down British forces. Washington was not a great general in the European style, but he turned himself into a creative military leader who fought a uniquely American war and who understood that the melting pot of people and ideas was our greatest asset. It still is today.
Thinking Outside the Eighteenth-Century Box
Washington’s embrace of foreigners and modern technology was hardly surprising. As a self-educated man, Washington was, in many ways, far more open to new ideas and methods than many of his contemporaries.
Washington stocked his Mount Vernon library with books and pamphlets on emerging agricultural science and up-to-date farm management systems. He regularly embraced cutting-edge procedures and had displayed an incredible ability to adapt to the times—another trait that Americans still embrace.
Washington experimented with crop rotations, and he replaced tobacco as his Potomac plantation’s main crop with, at various times, corn, hemp, and wheat. He also experimented with various combinations of soil and fertilizers, treatment of seeds, grafting, and modern drainage systems, and had invented a resourceful drill plow that others would later copy. One historian called George Washington America’s first “scientific farmer.”
“HOWE” THE COLONIES WERE LOST
Washington knew that God works in mysterious ways—and nothing could be a better example of that than the incredible story of Elizabeth Loring’s seductive hold on the British commander William Howe.
The beautiful and affable Loring was married to Loyalist Joshua Loring but was having an affair with General Howe, commander of the English forces. Howe had first led the British at the famous Battle of Bunker Hill and defeated Washington at the Battle of Long Island—though he was heavily criticized for missing an important opportunity to destroy the embryonic American army as it evacuated across the East River from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Things had been looking up since then, and after defeating Washington again at Brandywine, Howe had settled into cozy Philadelphia for the long winter.
The Lorings were with him.
Not only did Elizabeth benefit from this arrangement, but her husband did as well. Howe named him commissioner of prisoners of war—a position that would make him rich through the bribes he could procure from the would-be prisoners and their families. And while Howe tended to Elizabeth, Joshua oversaw rebel prisoners hellishly rotting away in ships in New York harbor and in a dank, converted sugar refinery in New York, simultaneously making plenty of cash shaking down their families and loved ones.
According to most historians, if General Howe had left the comfortable confines of Philadelphia that winter he could have crushed Washington’s depleted and ailing troops at Valley Forge, likely ending the revolution then and there. But, for a number of reasons, many of them still a mystery, he did not.
According to contemporary accounts, Howe very much enjoyed all the entertainment and indulgences that Philadelphia had to offer—but the one thing that grabbed his attention more than the theater, dancing, and gambling was Ms. Loring herself.
To be fair to Howe, there were plent
y of reasons not to venture out of Philadelphia other than Elizabeth Loring. Howe, unlike Washington at Valley Forge, was not particularly interested in testing out newfangled military methods. Enjoying a position of strength, he remained loyal to many of the outdated conceptions of European warfare that had worked for him throughout the war. One of the most harmful of these tenets was a convenient resolve that gentlemen should never fight in inclement weather.
To what extent a crush on Loring prevented Howe from leaving Philadelphia is certainly up for debate, but there is no doubt Howe would have been able to inflict massive damage on the impaired Continental Army if he had. And while I’m certainly not saying that Loring was sent by, as Washington would say, the Author, to work in such miraculous ways, I’m not going to dispute it, either.
No Statues of Limitation
There are plenty of public statues of George Washington. There are seven in New York City alone. There are statues of him on horseback, of him with the Revolutionary War financiers Robert Morris and Haym Solomon, and even of him looking like Zeus. Oh yeah, and there’s also that little one on Mount Rushmore.
But, as the famous English author G. K. Chesterton once said, “I’ve searched all the parks in all the cities and found no statues of committees.”
Yet, in late 1777, the Continental Congress thought that it could replace Washington with exactly that: a committee. Congress, if you haven’t noticed, is good at creating committees, and even better at stacking them with the wrong people.
