History That Doesn't Suck - 10: Dueling, Life Sucks at Valley Forge, von Steuben's Cool & the Battle of Monmouth

Episode Date: January 19, 2018

“Stand fast, my boys, and receive your enemy!” This is the story of a miserable winter and the summer of 1778. It's full of conniving, vengeance, honor, and starvation. George's political enemies learn the hard way not to mess with him. We'll have two duels in this episode alone. Most of this goes down during a grim winter at Valley Forge, where one fourth of the Continental Army will die from exposure and starvation. But it's not all bad news in this deadly winter's camp; von Steuben's teaching the Americans how to fight like pros. They're going to need those new skills. It's getting real at the Battle of Monmouth. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content,

and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership or click the link in the episode notes. This is the second of three second edition Revolutionary Era episodes being released in January and February,

each of which includes updated sound design by Airship as well as additional stories and details. New episodes continuing our usual chronological march through US history will return with episodes on the 1920s on February 26th. It's the morning of July 4th, 1778, America's second Independence Day. A group of men have gathered at a small clearing, or commons, near John Wharton's estate in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And in the center are two well-dressed figures. One is the handsome,

36-year-old Brigadier General in command of the Philadelphia Militia's 3rd Battalion, John Cadwallader. Standing opposite of him is the 42-year-old, Irish-born, French-raised, thin-lipped, and recently resigned Continental General, Thomas Conway. Each clutch is a pistol. These gentlemen are about to duel. Okay, time out. Let's quickly note the conflicting accounts of what's about to go down and why this duel is happening to begin with. One version says the coin toss determines that John Kedwalader shoots first. Another version, by Major Alexander Garden, says Thomas Conway shoots first.

Who shoots first isn't the only point of contention either. Some sources assert that Thomas challenged John, others that John challenged Thomas. Honestly, it seems historians are as divided yet confident about this duel as Star Wars fans debating whether Han or Greedo shot first. It was Han. These contradictions aside, let's address what really matters, the reason for this duel. See, it appears that, throughout this past winter, a small number of Continental officers and members of Congress have been working in concert to remove General George Washington as commander of the Continental Army. The full story here is complicated and we'll get to that later.

But for now, we'll note that Thomas Conway numbers among those at the center of these allegations. Moreover, he has spoken most foul of George Washington and John Cadwallader isn't having it. Thus, on this beautiful second Independence Day, they will engage in single combat. But enough with contradictions and causes. The most detailed and likely trustworthy account is that of Major Alexander Garden, so we'll stick primarily with his version as we continue our story. The two generals stand with gazes fixed and pistols in hand.

In accordance with the official dueling code, or coduello, their seconds, that is, each combatant's trusted friend and representative, have established the terms of firing and are loading and checking the pistols. Once satisfied, the seconds hand the weapons to their respective principals. And now, the word is given. Each man will be free to fire, as Major Alexander Garden tells us, in their own time and at discretion, either by an offhand shot or by taking a deliberate aim. Thomas quickly raises his pistol, aims at his opponent, and immediately fires. He misses.

John stares pensively at his foe. Slowly, the Pennsylvanian extends his arm and aims his pistol. But just as he's ready to fire, a gust of wind sweeps through. Feeling this soft yet steady breeze, John lowers his firearm to his side and waits. Thomas grows impatient. Likely retaining his Irish family's accent when speaking English, he hollers across the field at his opponent. Why do you not fire, General Cadwallader? John answers, because we came not here to trifle. Let the gale pass and I shall act my part. It's a savage rejoinder, but Thomas will not be outdone in this show of colonial-era manliness. He snaps back.

You shall have a fair chance of performing it well. And with that, the Irish-born Frenchman shifts his stance from the sideways dueling pose to expose his full front. The gale subsides. John again takes aim, pointing his pistol directly at Thomas. Once sure of his mark, John squeezes the trigger, exploding the smooth lead ball out of the pistol's barrel amid a cloud of white smoke. The ball hits Thomas right in the mouth. It punctures his cheek, shatters several teeth, mangles his tongue, then exits the back of his head and at the top of the neck. The resigned

Continental General falls forward on his shot-through face. Blood spouts like a fountain from the exit wound. His second, Colonel George Morgan, runs out to him. Incredibly, he finds that Thomas is still alive. As the Colonel moves aside some of Thomas' hair, the lead ball falls from it. Victorious, John Cadwallader looks down at his bleeding opponent. And here, well, historical sources once again make a very interesting departure. According to Alexander Garden, Thomas Conway manages to address his opponent. Talking through the blood, carved-up tongue, and missing teeth, the Irish Frenchman chokes out. You fire, General, with much deliberation,

and certainly with a great deal of effect. But others will remember it differently. According to another version, Thomas doesn't do the talking, John does, and he expresses no remorse for what he's done. In fact, John's only disappointment seems to be that the grievously wounded general is still living. In that frame of mind, the Pennsylvanian looks at Tom's mangled mouth, once so full of lies about George Washington, and takes some satisfaction as he coldly exclaims, I have stopped the damned rascal's lying tongue at any rate.

Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. This duel marks the end of the greatest challenge ever mounted against George Washington's wartime leadership, the Conway Cabal of late 1777 and early 1778. But how did it come to pistols on the field of honor? Well, today, as I tell you the story of Valley Forge, we'll start with this tale and see how a few military and congressional leaders ensure that physical deprivations aren't the only struggles George Washington faces at Valley Forge. But from there, this horrid winter's camp will gain a bit of hope as we meet a new arrival, one of the most important European officers to join the revolution, the Continental Army's beloved, genius, swearing

drillmaster from Prussia, Baron von Steuben. We'll march and drill with the hefty German as he curses every misstep, much to the amusement of the Continental soldiers. And once we've finally learned to march and maneuver well, we'll leave Valley Forge to finish the Philadelphia campaign as I regale you with the story of the major battle of 1778, the Battle of Monmouth. Here, we'll see George Washington at his finest, learn about the legend of artillery woman Molly Pitcher, and bear witness as General Charles Lee, so recently returned from British captivity, makes regrettable choices on the field. Choices that will indirectly lead our episode to end just as it opened, with a duel. Well, we have our path, so let's leave this 4th of July field of

honor and join the Continentals as they prepare to camp at Valley Forge more than half a year before Thomas Conway ended up choking on his own blood, teeth, and tongue. You know how we do that. Rewind. We left George Washington at the end of the last episode in late 1777, as he and his Continental Army prepared to face another miserable winter. This time, his 11,000 men and roughly 500 women and children, known as camp followers, are going to what will become their most famous, if not infamous, of winter camps, Pennsylvania's Valley Forge. Named after a nearby iron forge, George decides to make camp here for a few solid reasons. First is the terrain.

Camping on a plateau surrounded by tree-covered hills, his army has an excellent defensive and training position. Second is its location. Situated 20 miles northwest of Philadelphia, the Continentals are close enough to keep an eye on the city's British occupiers, yet distant enough from the region's farms to discourage raiding or robbing. And yes, his soldiers are starving and cold enough to resort to thieving. They arrived at Valley Forge with a mere 25 barrels

of flour, no meat, and often lack a full set of clothes or shoes for a single soldier. Yet, curiously enough, robbing the countryside is exactly what Congress wants George to do. Congressmen do not want to tangle with the states asking for more funds, so they prefer this course of action. Frankly, they're sick of how seriously the Continental Commander takes the civil rights of civilians. In fact, Maryland's congressional delegate, Charles Carroll, complains that George, quote, is so humane and delicate that I fear the common cause will suffer, close quote. He isn't the only one. The list of disenchanted congressmen is growing.

It includes such eminent men as Virginia's Richard Henry Lee and the Massachusetts cousins, Sam and John Adams. Some of the Continental Generals aren't jazzed about George either, like General Thomas Mifflin and, of course, Brigadier General Thomas Conway. Their reasons go back to the last episode. Let's recall that George lost at Brandywine and Germantown while the British occupied the United States' de facto capital, Philadelphia. Now, I fully explained the mitigating circumstances of these losses in that episode, but that's not how his growing list of haters see it. They just see losses. They see weakness as the cause behind his kindness to civilians. And of course, many in Congress still hate that George

thinks of the United States as a nation rather than an alliance of 13 sovereign states. It's for these reasons that, as George faces the dire physical challenges of Valley Forge over the winter of 1777-78, some are thinking that maybe the British-born transplant to Virginia and hero of Saratoga, Horatio Gates, ought to replace the born-and-bred Virginian, George Washington, as commander-in-chief. These few months are the greatest challenge ever mounted to George's position at the head of the military through the entire war. This is the Conway Cabal. The name comes from the Irish-born Frenchman who, as we saw at the start of this episode,

is destined to get shot in the face, Thomas Conway. Numbering among the many European officers serving in the Continental Army, he's efficient at drilling, but his sharp tongue and inflated ego make him unpopular. Alexander Hamilton has this to say of Thomas, There does not exist a more villainous columnateur or incendiary. George Washington can't stand the egotistical, self-aggrandizing Irish Frenchman either. As such, the Virginian general often passes on Thomas' advice at councils of war, and their disdain for one another only grows. Shortly after the early October battle

of Germantown, George gets word that Congress wants to promote Thomas Conway from the rank of brigadier to major general. This terrifies George. The last thing he wants is to have to entrust more responsibility to Thomas. On October 17, 1777, the Continental Commander writes to his fellow Virginian, Congressman Richard Henry Lee, cautioning that promoting Thomas is such a bad idea, and I quote, that it will give a fatal blow to the existence of the army. Close quote. He closes the letter by adding, it will be impossible for me to be of any further service. That's right, George just vaguely threatened to resign as commander-in-chief if Thomas Conway is promoted. Ah, but let's recall that Richard is one of the congressmen who doesn't

think George is doing well. This only encourages him to see that Thomas gets this promotion. So, Richard and recently resigned Continental Army Quartermaster Thomas Mifflin work together to push Congress to give the Board of War enough power to interfere with George. This includes creating a new position, Inspector General, which will supervise the Commander-in-Chief. They figure that, if they can load this new bureaucracy with people who irritate George, well, maybe he'll become miserable enough to call it quits and go back to Virginia of his own free will and accord. It's time to bring Horatio Gates into this tale. As I mentioned in the last episode, this victor of Saratoga has been a bit insubordinate of late.

He sends his reports to Congress, not his commander, George Washington. Nor is he willing to return the troops that George had sent his way to help him in the now concluded Saratoga campaign. Poor Alexander Hamilton has to travel in person from Pennsylvania to New York to haggle with Horatio for troops. And the plot only thickens while Alexander is up north in New York. While passing through Pennsylvania in early November, an aide to Horatio Gates, Colonel James Wilkinson, visits Major William McWilliams. As they drink and chat, the colonel drunkenly shares a letter that Thomas Conway sent Horatio. In it, Thomas writes, quote, Heaven has been determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counselors would have ruined it. Close quote.

Obviously, Thomas' letter was not meant for George Washington's ears, but the Major dutifully tells his commander, Lord Sterling, who, in turn, sends word to his beloved commander-in-chief. So informed, George writes Thomas Conway a short, terse letter on November 9th. To quote the letter in whole, Sir, a letter which I received last night contained the following paragraph. In a letter from General Conway to General Gates, he says, Heaven has been determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counselors would have ruined it.

I am, sir, your humble servant, George Washington. That's right. George makes no commentary. He just lets Thomas know that he knows what foul things the Frenchman has said about him. Meanwhile, the machinations of Richard Henry Lee and General Thomas Mifflin are coming together according to plan. Per their desires, Congress reorganizes the Board of War, and people unfriendly to George Washington are quickly filling key positions.

Insubordinate Horatio Gates is named the board's president, while the position of inspector general goes to none other than Thomas Conway. And the Irish Frenchman can hardly wait to announce this personally to the commander-in-Chief. It's an unspecified day in late December, 1777, and George Washington is in his massive linen and wool tent that serves as both his room and office. He's still awaiting more permanent winter lodgings here at Valley Forge. It's possible that he's conversing or dictating thoughts to Alexander Hamilton, who in turn spins them into golden prose.

Perhaps George is speaking with his ever-present enslaved valet, Billy Lee. George has grown incredibly close to Billy during these years of war and is rarely seen without him. Whatever the current task is, it's soon interrupted by an unwanted visitor, Thomas Conway. The Irish-born Frenchman welcomes himself into George's tent. A smile spreads across Thomas's chinless face as he announces that Congress has promoted him to the rank of Major General. The words sting. This is exactly what George asked

Congress not to do. Always one who endeavors to keep his emotions in check, the towering Virginian does his best to swallow this insult. George only says that such a promotion is extraordinary. Thomas answers, not so. The self-satisfied Major General now lets the other shoe drop, explaining that Congress has also made him the Continental Army's new Inspector General. In other words, George no longer holds authority over him. In fact, in some ways, it's now the other way around. And just to make the Commander-in-Chief feel the full sting of this Congressional insult, Thomas then hands over the official papers to prove it.

Scanning quickly but carefully, George reads this resolution of Congress. He notices that it calls for the Board of War to provide a set of instructions for troop maneuvers. He asks if Thomas has these instructions. The Inspector General shrugs dismissively as he answers, No. Seizing on this, George replies, Then you will have to wait.

And with that, George nods to an aide who politely but firmly escorts Thomas out of the Continental Commander's tent. George minded his manners through this unwanted visit. Nonetheless, Thomas Conway was insulted by the cool reception he received and lashes out. In an exchange of letters that follows, he compares George as commander-in-chief to, and I quote, an admiral who has never been to sea. But as December 1777 comes to a close, those working against George Washington are made to see what a small minority they really are. The truth is, the vast majority of the Continental Army is loyal to their commander and most in Congress approve of his work. Men flock to his defense. In early January 1778, one of the newest members

of George's military family, a young South Carolinian named John Lawrence, reaches out to his father, the current President of Congress, Henry Lawrence, and tells him of the feared conspiracy to push George out. His dad responds, I will set my face against every wicked attempt, however specious. The backpedaling is immediate. Former quartermaster Thomas Mifflin calls George his best friend. Horatio Gates flat out lies about his exchange of letters with Thomas Conway. The Conway cabal is dead by the end of the month. And in fact, the word cabal, though ingrained in this history,

is a bit strong. There were certainly a few who wanted to see George replaced, and a few who would like to replace George, by which, of course, I mean Horatio Gates. But there wasn't a great coordination of masterminds here. Thus, it didn't cross the line into conspiracy land. If the Conway cabal had any success. Thus, it didn't cross the line into conspiracy land.

If the Conway Cabal had any success, however, it was this. It ensures that no one ever mounts another major challenge to George's wartime leadership. From here on out, everyone knows that to mess with George Washington is to F around and find out. No one learns that lesson more forcefully than the cabal's namesake, Thomas Conway. After meeting General John Cadwallader on the field of honor, the Irish Frenchman who'd lost the ability to French kiss, writes an apology letter to George. To quote a small piece, he expresses, My sincere grief for having done, written, or said anything disagreeable to your excellency. You are, in my eyes, the great and the good man.

May you long enjoy the love, veneration, and esteem of these states whose liberties you have asserted by your virtues. I am with the greatest respect, sir, your excellency's most obedient, humble servant, Thomas Conway. As the miseries of the Conway cabal come to their close in January, and Lafayette twiddles his thumbs in Albany, waiting for Congress's ultimate decision for him not to invade Canada, George Washington and his men are still facing the physical miseries

of a harsh winter at Valley Forge in early 1778. Lacking clothes, food, or proper shelter at the start of the year, some 2,000 Continentals, roughly 20% of George's force, die from exposure to cold, starvation, or disease. Much if not all of this is due to congressional incompetence. Not only does that august body ignore George Washington's pleas for help, but it's also inserted itself into the commissary process and failed to do the job well. But despite these horrific deaths, camp life slowly starts to turn around in January 1778. On the 13th of that month, the last of the six and a half foot tall, 14 by 16 foot huts, each of which house 12 men, are completed. As for George, who, by many meaningful measures, has suffered alongside his men,

he's established his headquarters at the stone-built farmhouse of Isaac Potts. Meanwhile, Congress realizes it's a hindrance, not a help, and lets Jeremiah Wadsworth take the reins of a newly organized commissary department. In March, the fighting Quaker Nathaniel Green steps in as quartermaster general. The competence of these two men means that bland, thin, flour-based fire cakes are no longer served at every meal. Food and clothes finally start to reach Valley Forge. Another crucial change is the arrival in late February of one more foreign officer. Friedrich Wilhelm Ludolf Gerhard Augustam Baron von Steuben. Yes, that's one name, but we'll just call him by his shortened, anglicized name, Baron von Steuben. A German from the kingdom of

Prussia, von Steuben exaggerates his wealth and military experience like most of his fellow Europeans, but differs from them in the same way that Lafayette does. He doesn't demand respect, but shows it instead. For instance, rather than complaining that Americans are different from Europeans, von Steuben embraces those differences. As he puts it in a letter to a friend in Europe, the genius of this nation is not in the least to be compared with that of the Prussians, Austrians, or French. You say to your soldier, do this, and he doeth it. But I am obliged to say, this is the reason that you ought to do that. And then he does it. Perhaps it's due to that grasp on the American psyche that George Washington is giving von Steuben an opportunity to prove himself by tackling a near-impossible task, training the Continental Army to soldier as well as Europeans do.

It's an early Thursday morning, March 19th, 1778. Housed as comfortably as one can be at Valley Forge, Baron von Steuben has just finished getting dressed. Now he sits, trying to calm his nerves with his trusty pipe and a cup of coffee. Although Thomas Conway nominally remains the Army's Inspector General, George Washington has asked the Baron to fill this role informally, and today, in a few moments in fact, von Steuben will step into that role by training Continental soldiers. If all goes well, the Baron will prove his worth. If it doesn't, well, he may find that he's made a long and expensive trip to North America for nothing. Dressed in his splendid uniform and a heavy woolen cloak, von Steuben rides his steed out to the grand parade.

As he approaches, the eyes of a hundred soldiers stare at him. Some are laborers. Some are farmers. They're old, they're young, and hail from across the thirteen states. Some are native-born, while others are immigrants, Irish, German, and more. To the eye, nothing unites them, not even a consistent uniform. But that sight is misleading. Every one of these diverse men are seasoned veteran continentals, united in their cause and hand-selected from across the army's brigades with the hope that, if von Steuben can teach them how to soldier properly, they in turn can train their respective units. Now just in front of this motley force, the Baron dismounts.

He gets right to it. Although these men are veterans, he's starting from scratch. It's time for them to relearn how to march. That is, how to march correctly. Not speaking English, the husky 47-year-old German shouts orders in French as bilingual Continental officers, including John Lawrence and Alexander Hamilton, translate. Soon, the men are in a lockstep of 75 uniform paces per minute. Then someone missteps. As this happens, the Baron's larger-than-life personality comes out. His plump cheeks turn bright red as he swears in German-accented French or uses one of the few English phrases he does know. Alexander Hamilton and other translators try to keep up as they spit out the equivalent profanity in English. And the men, they love it. Von Steuben might look like an

aristocratic European, but he's as approachable and down-to-earth as any American. From marching to the proper handling of firearms, Von Steuben does indeed whip this group into shape. The fruits of his labor are apparent in a matter of days and will display impressively on May 6th as 7,000 Continentals march and fire in perfect unison while performing the Feu de Joie to celebrate the new alliance with France. More than that, in the years ahead, the Baron will write a drill instruction handbook called the Blue Book,

which will basically become the Bible of American military thinking well into the next century. Von Steuben will lean on his French-speaking continental friends, Lafayette and Alexander Hamilton, to put this brilliance into English. And yes, once Thomas Conway is officially out of the way, the swearing German's position likewise becomes official. Von Steuben is made Inspector General at the rank of Major General. In meeting von Steuben, we should also state that, despite his talent and contributions to the revolution, he's often an overlooked character in the American story. There are perhaps two notable reasons for this. First, he was foreign-born, and even West Indies-born Alexander Hamilton and the French Marquis de Lafayette played second fiddle in our mainstream memory of the revolution

until composer Lin-Manuel Miranda convinced America that these founders could rap. Second, questions about the Baron's sexuality follow him. Some historians will assert that he was asexual, others that he was gay. While we will never be able to answer that personal question perfectly with the historical record, the circumstantial evidence that he's gay is strong. Rumors about his sexuality follow the Baron in Europe and America. He has very close relationships with a few continental officers and never marries. But thankfully, for America's sake, continental leaders never make this an issue. I guess you could say George Washington put don't ask, don't tell into practice long before Bill Clinton came along.

Between the Conway Cabal and the early destitution of Valley Forge, George Washington and his men have faced a psychologically and physically grueling winter. One so harsh that von Steuben will later say that no European army could have been kept together under such dreadful deprivations. How true, Baron. Conviction matters. And more than that, this von Steuben-trained, better-fed, and freshly-equipped army has been reborn and is ready to take the fight to the British. This summer, with the weather warming, it's time to resume the Philadelphia campaign.

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it's not just the continentals who find their situation changed. Indeed, the British are in quite a different place since they seized the United States' de facto capital of Philadelphia last year. Let's get caught up. To start, April 21, 1778 brings a prisoner exchange of generals. Britain's Richard Prescott for America's Charles Lee. I trust that you remember Charles from episode 8. He's George's first subordinate who seemed to think that he should be the commander-in-chief

instead, but then got captured by the British while in his nightgown. Well, appropriately enough, the Americans captured British General Richard Prescott in the same embarrassing circumstances. But fun as these nightgown shenanigans are, the crucial thing is that this exchange puts Charles Lee back in continental leadership. And despite the less than loyal way in which Charles was conducting himself at the time of his capture in late 1776, George Washington is stoked to have him back. According to Elias Boudinot, who negotiated the exchange, quote, General Washington received General Lee as if he had been his brother, close quote.

On May 18th, 1778, British-held Philadelphia notes an even bigger change with an incredible party. The women wear lavish dresses and jewels, multiple bands play, fireworks fly along the river. Organized by the cosmopolitan British officer John Andre, it's a lavish farewell bash, referred to in Italian as a mischienza in honor of General Sir William Howe. Yes, between the fiasco with Gentleman Johnny at Saratoga last year, and a knowledge that Colonial Secretary Lord Germain thinks he's too gentle with the Americans, Sir Billy, along with his Admiral brother, is calling it quits. Thus, we bid farewell to yet another of our favorite playboy generals. General Howe's number two, with whom he never got along,

Sir Henry Clinton, will now step in to lead as the new commander-in-chief of British forces in North America. I know that I mentioned him briefly in episodes 8 and 9, but let's get to know Sir Henry, given his new larger role. A short, balding man with a fair complexion, the nearly 50-year-old Brit has a gift for strategy. He's proven that in this very war. It was his idea to outflank the Americans back on Long Island in 1776. But for all that strategizing, he's slow to act, rash, thin-skinned. Alexander Hamilton thinks

quite little of him. In fact, when a plan to kidnap Sir Henry Clinton starts to develop, Alex squashes it by pointing out that if they succeed, quote, it would be our misfortune since the British government could not find another commander so incompetent to send in his place. Close quote. Sir Henry isn't the warmest personality either. In fact, he explained his lack of getting along with General Howe or Gentleman Johnny in the following words, and I quote, I am a shy bitch. Okay then, Sir Henry, you're not a people person. We get it. But Sir Henry Clinton will be fighting a very different war than Sir William Howe did. See, Howe fought a poorly trained, fed, and supplied ragtag army

that was landlocked on the North American continent without much of anything you could really call a navy? That's not what the war looks like now, though, and I'm not even referring to the leaner and meaner von Steuben-trained Continental Army, even if the Redcoats get a small taste of this on May 20th as Lafayette's force of 2,000 outmaneuver them at Barren Hill. No, I'm referring to the newly struck Franco-American alliance that the demise of Gentleman Johnny at Saratoga has wrought. I covered this in the last episode and trust that you recall the details on how France has already made essential contributions to the Patriot cause in the form of material supplies

and the leadership of Lafayette. Though maybe we could have passed on Thomas Conway, we needed that Frenchman like we needed a hole in the head. But now, with France directly in the war, this is no longer just a local rebellion. Britain has to worry about potential French attacks on their lucrative, sugar-producing Caribbean colonies worth so much more to the crown than colonies like Massachusetts or Delaware. Even worse, what if the French attack England? In short, this just became a global war. And that new global dynamic brings us to Sir Henry Clinton's first big move. He's giving up Philadelphia. Why? Because in order for the global British Empire to play zone against the global French Empire,

Sir Henry has to part with some 8,000 troops as they get reassigned to newly vulnerable locales. 5,000 are heading to the Caribbean. The other 3,000 are off to Florida. That's about one-third of Sir Henry's entire army. And without them, he doesn't have the manpower to hold the one time and soon to be again American capital of Philadelphia. He'll have to settle for consolidating his remaining soldiers back in New York.

But hey, it could have been worse. Back in London, leadership did talk briefly about pulling the entire army out of the North American colonies altogether. You heard me correctly. That's how severely France's joining the war is shaking things up. We're now in mid-June 1778, and George is getting word from spies, in this case, ladies doing laundry for the British army, that the soldiers in Philly have suddenly called in all their clothes, clean or dirty. Ah, sounds like Sir Henry's ready to move.

Ever an aggressive commander, the Virginian general calls a council of war on June 17th to discuss the situation. But to his surprise, his newly returned second-in-command, Charles Lee, and the vast majority of the council oppose taking action. They say to just let the Brits withdraw from Philadelphia and flee. The next day, June 18th, it becomes evident that the Patriot laundresses nailed it. Abandoning Philadelphia, the Redcoats cross the Delaware River to begin their 100-mile journey back to New York. While giving heed to his generals and not risking a major battle, George officially breaks camp at Valley Forge the next day. The Continentals are now in pursuit. Oh, and George sees such a great opportunity. Sir Henry Clinton's army is exposed. Reports say his army numbers about 9,000 to 10,000 soldiers,

as well as thousands of loyalists. And, get this, they have some 1,500 wagons transporting all of their stuff, stretched over 12 miles. What can I say? They picked up too many souvenirs during their comfy winter in Philly. And of course, moving so many people with so much stuff means they are moving slowly and are vulnerable. Surely, with well over 10,000 men, the Continental Army has to take advantage of this situation, right?

Sounds like it's time for another Council of War. It's June 24th, 1778. We're about 40 miles northeast of Philadelphia in Hopewell Township, New Jersey, likely at a tavern where George Washington is sitting down for a council with his top military minds. Going around the room, he's joined by 12 generals. English-born Charles Lee, France's Marquis de Lafayette, and Louis Lebesgue du Portail, Prussian drillmaster Baron von Steuben, the Scottish descent New Yorker known as Lord Stirling, Rhode Island's fighting Quaker Nathaniel Green, New Jerseyan

Enoch Poor, Connecticuter John Patterson, Pennsylvanian Mad Anthony Wayne, that bookish Bostonian turned artillery genius Henry Knox, and finally, Georgia's two fellow Virginians, William Woodford and Charles Scott. Also in attendance is Georgia's Caribbean-born aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton. He's here to take minutes. What a variety of accents, first languages, and points of view. I wonder, does our Continental Commander, once so slow to trust non-Southerners, realize how he's grown, bonding with, and becoming so reliant on such a geographically diverse group? Perhaps. But right now, there are more pressing

matters. George rises to ask these assembled officers a series of questions. Will it be advisable for us of choice to hazard a ground action? If it is, should we do it by immediately making a general attack upon the enemy? by attempting a partial one, only taking such a position if it can be done as may oblige them to attack us? If it is not, what measures can be taken with safety to this army to annoy the enemy in their march should it be their intent to hazard through the jerseys? In fine, what precise line of conduct will be best for us to pursue? Charles Lee takes the floor. So recently imprisoned by the British,

and as of yet, unimpressed by the army's abilities, even with von Steuben's training, this English-born Continental General thinks they don't stand a chance in open battle, and urges George to allow Sir Henry Clinton's Redcoats to flee to New York. Says Charles, Let us erect a bridge of gold for the enemy. The English army has never been so excellent and so well-disciplined. Charles is certainly eloquent today. He wins over Lord Stirling and the Brigadier Generals.

On the other side of the room, Lafayette glowers. This isn't caution in his eyes. It's cowardice. He counters. It would be disgraceful for the chiefs and humiliating for the troops to allow the enemy to traverse the Jersey's tranquilly. We must follow the English, maneuver with prudence, and, in short, seize the most favorable opportunities and situations.

Chief Engineer Dupontet agrees with his fellow Frenchmen, as do a few others. But as at last week's council, the majority ultimately stand with Charles Lee against a major action. The council votes to send General Charles Scott with a mere 1,500 troops to harass the British. Nothing more. Despite this decision at the council, those in favor of a major attack continue to push through the evening. Alexander Hamilton mocks the naysaying generals, asserting that they would have done honor to the most honorable society of midwives and to them only. That's Alexander's 18th century way of saying the council needs to man up. Nathaniel Green agrees. The fighting Quaker writes to George that evening saying, people expect something from us and our

strength demands it. George agrees too. A humble leader who's open to dissenting views, the Continental Commander usually defers to the Council's consensus. He'd rather get it right than simply be told he's right. However, in this instance, George displays another important aspect of leadership. The ability to go against the grain when it truly appears to be the right course. He decides the Continental Army will attack. On June 25th, the day after this disagreeable council of war, George asks Charles Lee to lead a vanguard that will close in on the Redcoats now approaching the small village of Monmouth Courthouse, New Jersey. Charles scoffs. No problem. George offers the command to a general who is

eager to fight, Lafayette. The Frenchman gladly accepts. But upon realizing this is a command of some 5,200 men, Charles changes his mind, saying he does want it after all. Lafayette takes the high road and rolls with it, as does George, but all of this is odd. In fact, Continental Army officers have found Charles to be acting a bit strange since he rejoined them after his time as a British captive. Charles was always strange, but more so lately. No one's doubting his loyalty, but I'm going to let you in on a little fact about which Charles Lee's Continental brethren know nothing.

While a prisoner of war, Charles wrote a treasonous plan for a British victory. Known simply as Mr. Lee's Plan, March 29, 1777, this plan will become lost and forgotten for almost 80 years, only re-emerging in 1858, when historian George Moore will find it in the preserved papers of General Howe's previous secretary, Henry Strachey. Tsk, tsk, tsk. See, I told you back in episode 8, Charles Lee is a sneaky bastard. In fact, decades from now, Lafayette will recall that when Charles Lee swore allegiance to the United States after being imprisoned by the British, which was something Congress had asked all Continental officers to do during his captivity, Charles twice lifted his hand from the Bible while swearing the oath. George noticed too. The officers laughed it off

as Charles just being slightly odd Charles, but knowing about this plan, it makes you wonder if he was uncomfortable swearing loyalty on scripture, doesn't it? But again, this secret plan is still, well, secret, and Lafayette's hindsight observations are yet to come as well. Thus, on June 25th, George Washington gives Charles Lee command of the Advanced Guard, and two days later, June 27th, our Virginian general gives further instructions to his second-in-command. Tomorrow morning, when the Redcoats break their camp near Monmouth Courthouse, New Jersey, Charles is, barring unforeseeable circumstances, to attack the British rear. Once he does, George and the rest of the Continental Army will reinforce him as they decimate Sir

Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis' Redcoats. The Continental Commander has the utmost faith in this solid plan of attack for tomorrow. Lying down, legend tells us, under a tree in the midst of his troops, George falls asleep that night, blissfully unaware that, perhaps, he should doubt the loyalty of the man whom he's trusting to put it in motion. Walk with us. Connect to the land that connects us all. Grow with us. Come together and make space for each other.

Eat with us. Taste the many flavors of our cultures. Laugh with us. Smile. Joke. And bring each other joy. Come. Walk with us. Indigenous Tourism Alberta.

Amazon's holiday deals are here so you can celebrate the season early. With low prices on decor, electronics, and beauty. Perfect for stocking stuffers. And my stocking's looking good. Shop holiday deals early on Amazon now. It's a scorching hot mid-morning, June 28th, 1778, and Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton is riding hard amid the ravines, morasses, pine trees, and cornfields just north of the New Jersey village of Monmouth Courthouse.

General George Washington has sent him to gather news from Charles Lee at the front, and as such, he's charging toward the sound of battle. But upon reaching the advanced guard of 5,000, Alex can hardly believe his violet blue eyes. They're in full retreat. Ready to sacrifice all for the patriot cause, Alex, now alongside Charles Lee, pleads with him. I will stay here with you, my dear general, and die with you. Let us all die rather than retreat. By early afternoon, George himself arrives at the front.

The towering Virginian has already caught word of a retreat from a Pfeiffer and others heading to the rear, but like Alexander Hamilton, he is perfectly incredulous at the sight. Or rather, perfectly furious. In fact, he is so upset in this moment that the highly disciplined Continental Commander exposes that terrible temper of his, usually so very well in check that few even know about it. Glaring at Charles Lee, George angrily demands, What is the meaning of this, sir? I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and confusion.

Shocked, the English-born general stammers, Sir, sir, the American troops would not stand the British bayonets. You damned poltroon, you never tried them. Go to the rear, sir. With those words, and, if we believe General Charles Scott, uncharacteristically but furiously swearing till the leaves shook on the trees, George relieves his failed second-in-command and flies into action. This is George Washington at his finest. Despair turns to hope as the sweltering

Continental see their general, who's earned their trust and love, suffering beside them amid every misery and battle from Cambridge to Valley Forge. Charging forward, he bellows out, Stand fast, my boys, and receive your enemy. When his white steed drops dead from the afternoon's scorching heat, George hardly stops as he mounts a chestnut-colored horse brought to him by Billy Lee. Reflecting on this moment, Lafayette will later write, Never had I beheld so superb a man. Everything turns around. Now the British get a real taste of a von Steuben-trained Continental Army.

The sweat-soaked Americans hold their lines. They fire muskets and cannon with precision and without breaking. As the battle rages in the hundred-degree heat, it's said that a Pennsylvania woman brings the suffering Continentals pails of water. As she does, she sees her own husband, an artillery man, killed in action. Without a moment's pause, she grabs her fallen love's ramrod and takes his place at the cannon. The Battle of Monmouth, as this fierce engagement is known, ends around 6 p.m. The Americans sleep on their arms only to wake in the morning and find that Sir Henry Clinton

has pulled one of George Washington's favorite moves. He had his troops leave their campfires burning as they fled in the dark of night. The Brits make their way to Sandy Hook on July 1st, and from there, the Royal Navy transports them to New York, safe and sound. The Battle of Monmouth is effectively a tie, them to New York, safe and sound. The Battle of Monmouth is effectively a tie, except when it comes to dead and wounded. The Redcoats suffered over a thousand casualties, while only inflicting a fraction of that on the Post Valley Forge, Liener, Miener, and von Steuben-trained Continentals. Not the victory George wanted, but still, not a bad day for the Patriots. But we aren't done pulling back the layers on Monmouth.

For instance, who was the woman at the cannon? According to some accounts, and there are various versions, she was a camp-following Pennsylvania Dutch woman named Molly Ludwig Hayes McCauley, better known as she was fetching pails or pitchers of water for dehydrated troops, as Molly Pitcher. Historians will debate the veracity of her tale. Frankly, many doubt her existence, as the first stories about her at Monmouth only appear decades later.

Might she be a legend, riffing off of the very real Margaret Corbin, who had a nearly identical experience at the 1776 Battle of Fort Washington, as we heard back in Episode 8? Or was she as real as Monmouth veteran Joseph P. Martin claimed so long afterward? To quote a bit of his version of the tale, One little incident happened during the heat of the cannonade, which I was eyewitness to and which I think would be unpardonable not to mention. A woman whose husband belonged to the artillery, and who was then attached to a piece in the engagement, attended with her husband at the piece the whole time. So was Molly real? Or did Margaret get mixed up with Molly as soldiers swapped stories?

I like to think both happened, but we'll never know. I can tell you this though, women like Molly and Margaret stepped up throughout the war to show they had more figurative stones and patriotism than Charles Lee exhibited today. Ah yes, let's return to Charles Lee. Some historians are sympathetic to Charles, pointing out the rough terrain of ravines did not match up with the intel previously received. It was also, as we know, an insufferable, muggy hundred degrees that day. Men in thick, heavy uniforms, marching miles under the weight of lead ball, powder, muskets, and other accoutrements,

suffered from heat stroke. Some died, while others, like Lieutenant Colonel Aaron Burr, would have a long road to recovery. Some Americans stripped off their shirts altogether. Further, George did give Charles some latitude to make decisions as he saw fit in the moment. But all that said, Charles' leadership was quite poor for what an experienced general ought to be able to do. And let's not forget that plan he wrote up for Sir William Howe last year. So was this retreat treason? Or actually the right call? In truth, we will never fully know. But whatever Charles Lee's motives, George isn't going to leave himself having to question if this highly capable yet long insubordinate general is actually with him. Immediately after Monmouth,

the Continental Commander places Charles under arrest and charges him with disrespecting the commander-in-chief, a breach of orders and of misbehavior, as well as an unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat. Court-martial proceedings that July and August find Charles guilty and sentence him to a one-year suspension from the Continental Army. Congress confirms that sentencing in December. Enraged, the shamed former general responds by publicly smearing George Washington. Now, we learned in the opening of this episode that, even though George is not personally a fan of duels, if you throw shade at the commander-in-chief, there's a chance someone from his loyal crew will put you in your place on the field of honor.

In this case, that someone is George's young South Carolinian aide-de-camp, John Lawrence. It's 3.30 on a cold, windy Wednesday afternoon, December 23, 1778, as four men enter a wooded area near Philadelphia. They are in two pairs. The first two men are Lieutenant Colonels and fellow George Washington aides John Lawrence and Alexander Hamilton. John is here to duel. Alex is his second.

Opposite them are shamed and suspended General Charles Lee and his second, Major Evan Edwards. The weapons have already been determined. Pistols. The terms are decided at this moment, and they are this. John and Charles will each advance toward each other and may fire whenever they feel proper. Well within view of each other, the two seconds load the dueling pistols. One is then handed to each of the principals, to John Lawrence and Charles Lee. The signal given, the two opponents advance, their eyes locked on one another's as each raises his smooth-bore pistol, points it toward the other,

and upon reaching a mere five to six paces apart, fires. Charles misses. John doesn't. He struck the general in his right side. Looking over and feeling his wound, Charles declares it inconsiderable. He proposes to fire a second time.

Both seconds, Alexander Hamilton and Evan Edwards-like, strongly disagree. But Charles insists, and as such, John confirms his willingness to participate in a second round. Here, Alex again pushes against it, saying, "'Unless the general is influenced "'by motives of personal enmity,

I do not think the affair ought to be pursued any further. The English-born general answers, I have none, and have only met Colonel Lawrence to defend my own honor. Mr. Lawrence knows best whether there is any on his part. The South Carolinian replies, General Lee is acquainted with the motives that have brought him here. The South Carolinian replies, Charles again calls to resume the duel, but consents to whatever the seconds jointly decide. Alexander and Evan both agree that each man's honor has been satisfied.

The duel is over, just like Charles Lee's career. In 1780, he'll fully resign from the Continental Army, and two years after that, die of a fever, taking his secret, treasonous plan for a British victory to his grave. But let's not get ahead of ourselves as we say goodbye to Charles Lee. Returning our minds to the summer of 1778, we've closed out the inconclusive Battle of Monmouth, and with it, the two-episode, year-long, and likewise inconclusive Philadelphia campaign. And although Sir Henry Clinton and his redcoats have absconded back to New York City,

George is feeling hopeful. The battle could have gone worse, and more importantly, America's new ally, France, is coming. Better yet, France is here. Only a little over a week after the Battle of Monmouth, French Admiral Comte d'Estaing arrives with 16 ships, 12 ships of the line, and four frigates transporting 4,000 French troops. The fleet drops anchor off Delaware Bay. My God, might this do it? With Comte d'Estaing, can George bring this war to a quick close? We'll find out next time as the British Crown shifts its strategy toward the South. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson.

Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit HTVSPodcast.com. HTVS is supported by premium membership fans. this episode, visit htbspodcast.com. Thank you. Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Kaffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown,

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