Valley Forge: George Washington and the Crucible of Victory (39 page)

“I will leave policy to those who make policy,” he replied with a smile. “I hope my task shall be to form what is provided for the time it is provided into an army that can drive the English and, yes, my German cousins from these shores.”

“Hear, hear!” Hamilton offered, raising his glass and finishing the cordial. With a sigh, Vogel offered a few precious ounces as a refill.

“What I am proposing is a model of drill for the army that I pray, within ninety days, can transform it into a force that can meet the British in an open-field fight and then hold that field, in fact drive them from it.”

The young officer with Wayne sat back, shaking his head. Hamilton and Laurens smiled, and the others just sat silent, staring at von Steuben. He wondered if they thought he was mad.

“Gentlemen, we must agree on this. In an open-field battle, in terrain such as is found along all the coastal plains, from Savannah to Boston, the British, and I must announce with regret my former comrades from Germany, reign supreme. In a land of gently rolling hills, of rich open farmland sprinkled with woodlots, they will always hold the field.

“In a land of what passes for good roads”—he paused, not wishing to denigrate what these men called roads but which he could only define as mud tracks—“there is currently no force on this side of the Atlantic that can beat them.”

“Get them into the forests of upstate New York, or the way Braddock went wandering off toward Pittsburgh, and it is a different story, though,” Wayne’s young loyalist retorted.

“And, yes, my friend, I will readily agree with you,” von Steuben replied. “But the war will not be won at Saratoga, Pittsburgh, or some other wilderness outpost. It will be won in front of Philadelphia, New York, Charleston, or in the tidewater of Virginia. It will finally be won by what His Excellency calls a Continental Line, of disciplined infantry, backed with artillery, horse-mounted troopers and dragoons, and well-supported logistics. But most of all by disciplined infantry. Infantry that can stand and fight the British to a standstill and then drive our opponents from the field.”

He was now warming to his subject, and as he spoke he slapped the table with his hand.

“Fabian strategy will no longer work in this war,” he continued. “Who was Fabian?” Wayne’s staffer asked.

Lafayette interjected, “He was a Roman leader who believed Hannibal could only be defeated through a long war of attrition while avoiding pitched battles until the Carthaginians were worn down.”

“It worked for him, didn’t it?” came the reply.

“Gentlemen,” von Steuben interjected, fearing that—so typical of these Americans—a heated debate was about to unfold, “putting aside two-thousand-year-old Romans, who in fact built a new model army in Spain under Scipio, let’s focus on defeating today’s British. What I believe is needed is a new model army. Like those which William of Orange, Cromwell of the English, or Gustavus Adolphus of the Swedes developed in the last century.”

Lafayette nodded enthusiastically, but von Steuben saw he was losing the others around the table with his references to the great generals of the past.

He reached out across the table and gathered back the scattering of papers, silently cursing himself for having forgotten to number each page. It would
take a while to sort them out. He went through the papers for a moment, fearful that he might be losing his audience, but they remained patiently focused on his next words, while Vogel poured out the last few precious drops of the watered-down cordial.

He finally held several sheets up.

“This is where I propose we”—he hesitated, fumbling for the right word, while looking at Du Ponceau—“where all of us should start.

“It is a school of infantry for but one company of men.”

He pointed to the sketches on the sheet. Though he prided himself on at least having a passing ability with watercolors, sketches on cheap foolscap with a quill pen were not his forte.

“I propose starting with a hundred men, one company in strength. The men are to be picked from every regiment with the army. And please, gentlemen, I am a soldier and I know how when a call is given for a levee of several men from each regiment, the tendency is to pick out those that an officer wishes to get rid of, the malcontents, slackers, and cowards.

“That is why I ask you now for your help.”

He fixed each man in turn with his gaze as if making a personal appeal.

“I want the best of each regiment. Enlisted men only of proven character and leadership. I beg you, my friends, if this plan is to work, I need your help. For General Washington to have an army worthy of his leadership, I need your help.”

Again the look of appeal, and he saw nods from nearly all, including the man with Wayne who had so openly questioned him.

“I will then personally drill this company in a manner which I deem appropriate for your army.”

“And that manner is?” Hamilton asked.

“I shoot the first man who disobeys.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as Du Ponceau translated. He remained stone-faced for long seconds, then broke out laughing at their looks of disbelief.

The tension in the room broke, and he knew he was winning them over. A well-placed joke at the right moment always worked with soldiers.

“I will start with the most basic of basics. How to stand at attention, how to dress a line, how to salute, how to break ranks and then in an instant reform ranks with one sharp command.”

“Good luck on that,” Laurens sighed. “It is almost a matter of pride that the men take their own time.”

“Then we show them reasons not to.”

“How, flog them the way the British do?” the officer with Wayne asked.

“No,” and his reply was a bit heated, “we give them pride in a task well done. Americans cannot be driven and beaten into obedience, but I believe they can be reasoned with and educated into a system that will help them defeat their enemies.”

There were nods around the table, and he could not help but be pleased with himself.

After thirty years, he knew well the workings of an army. It was one thing to present a plan to the general in command. It was another game altogether to first go to the junior officers, to win their confidence over a good meal, or at least what would pass for a good meal, to be as liberal as possible with spirits, and then appeal to them as brothers in arms.

“I will personally drill the men,” and then he quickly added, “with your help, of course.”

That was part of the plan as well. If Lafayette, Laurens, Hamilton, and others were there and joined in, it would encourage other officers to observe and to participate as well.

“I will drill them first as individual soldiers, starting with the most basic of things. Once I am satisfied, I am certain they will feel a sense of pride in their bearing and deportment.

“Then to the next step, which is to drill them as a company. We will start with the simplest of maneuvers, to march in column of fours.”

“They already know that,” Laurens offered.

“Yes, they do, but perhaps not as we would wish to see it done,” he replied with a grin. “There should be a precise measure to their step, exactly twenty-eight inches.”

Laurens looked at him, a bit confused.

“Trust me, good sir, it goes all the way back to the Romans. First you must train your men to an exact step, all the same: left, right, left, right…” As he spoke, he beat out a tattoo on the table.

“And it must be exactly seventy-five steps a minute for normal march. That is regular step. Then to quick time, double-quick, and so on.”

“Why?” one of them asked.

“Ah, please bear with me, my friend.”

The room was silent now.

“Marching in column of fours is easy; I plan that it can be mastered in half a day at most. March at standard pace will be a bit harder but they will learn, encouraged by you and others.”

He stood up, moved to the side of the room, and began to march in the standard measured step, counting off the time as he did so, marching the twenty-foot length of the room, turning about, marching back, and gradually doing it in an increasingly exaggerated manner so that the others began to laugh.

“See, even half drunk I can do it!” he exclaimed.

He sat back down.

“Vogel, more brandy!” he announced.

His servant looked at him with an absolutely stricken expression.

There was a pause and then Lafayette, to the cheers of the others, motioned for his servant, who ran off yet again, Lafayette making a most French gesture of exaggerated despair. The men broke into conversation, and minutes later the servant returned with two more bottles and was greeted with cheers.

“My brothers, truly this is the last of it,” Lafayette exclaimed, “but I can think of no better friends to share it with and no better time to drink to our victory over tyranny.”

The two bottles of brandy were uncorked and there was no pretense of watering it down as they were passed around the table, each man receiving a glass full.

Von Steuben nodded his thanks to his newfound friend. It was obvious that Lafayette knew the subtlety of the game von Steuben was playing and was fully part of it.

“Now, as I was saying,” he continued, first holding up his glass to Lafayette and offering a nod of thanks for the last of his brandy, the others joining in. “Once our good men have mastered the proper march and pace, we then deploy to that most difficult of formation, the line of battle.”

There were nods of agreement now, and no protests.

“It shall be two ranks deep.”

“Two ranks?” Lafayette queried. “Every army of Europe deploys into three ranks to provide maximum firepower.”

“I have pondered long on that, my friend,” von Steuben replied. “There are a number of reasons why I suggest two rather than three. Deploying from column of fours to files of two is easier, for one thing; each file of four on the march breaks into two files for the line of battle. Second, it will extend our line farther, which in an even match will overlap their flanks. That will allow us to bring more fire to bear on them. It is also easier to train men for in the time allotted to us.”

He looked around the room. The tactical nuances of a line of three versus two were lost on many. But this was indeed something he had pondered for a long time. It made the line weaker, to be certain, but, given the limited time to train these men, it did make for an easier formation to maneuver in battle, and no one now objected. On a volley line, a file three ranks deep required a lot more training when it came to actually firing volleys, or firing by line, than did a battle line only two ranks deep. Without proper, extensive training, many would be the man in the first rank shot in the back of the head by a nervous soldier in the third rank, a guaranteed destroyer of morale. There would be time enough later to explain these finer details.

“Once they have mastered marching and holding their formation, we will then graduate to learning how to wheel, to change front, to go from line to square against cavalry, how to charge at the double-quick time and hold formation.”

“All of that in how long?” Hamilton asked.

“I propose that within a month our model company will have mastered all such things. Beyond that, as we conclude the month of training, they will do it in simulation of actual battle, with officers suddenly being taken from them, sergeants, even corporals, then having to take command because of battle losses. Every private will learn the role of a corporal, a corporal a sergeant, and so on up the line of command.”

“A month?” Lafayette asked, and even he had a note of doubt in his voice.

Von Steuben forced a smile.

“Do we have any alternative? It is already March. If the weather is good, the campaign season might start as early as May.”

And inwardly he prayed it would rain and snow until June.

Lafayette did not reply. “Plus, I know the standard is to expect the men to fire no more than two rounds a minute. I propose that this model company be trained to three rounds a minute.”

Now there was a murmur of discord again.

“It can be done,” he said quickly. “I have seen the most ignorant flat-footed Rhinelander peasant, who never touched a gun in his life, be trained to three rounds a minute in a month’s time. Surely Americans, who it is said come from their mother’s wombs gun in hand, can do the same?”

Again there was a round of laughter and the protests died.

“Once our model company is properly trained they will return to their regiments, all of them bearing the reward and the rank of sergeant.”

He looked around the room and all saw his point. The promotion and with it the extra pay, even if it was but five dollars a month Continental, would be incentive for most, if not all, of the recruits to endure the endless drill.

“Then, in turn, these new sergeants will drill each of their regiments as they were drilled. It will become a competition, and you Americans certainly love a good competition—”

He smiled.

“—as I learned in more than one game of cards and chance while trying to make my way here.” And though he did not admit that he had won most of the card games he played, his comment was greeted with laughter.

“If we can succeed, then a month hence a grand review would be held. I would pray that perhaps His Excellency the General would preside, with special honors and awards to those regiments that excel in the new model of drill I propose.”

There were nods of ready agreement.

“Once that is mastered, regiments would then master the higher arts of maneuver by brigades in mass formations.”

“You do make it sound easy,” Laurens said. “But in this army some regiments are of but forty men, others of four hundred. Organization as you propose and which I think I see in your sketches would mean a radical reorganization of the entire army and its command structure.”

“Perhaps regiments could be combined to form the proper regulation strength, which I would propose as at least two hundred men per regiment. The strongest regiment holds its name and the others form under its flag.”

His suggestion was met with a shaking of heads and even outright laughter from every native-born officer present.