*This has turned out to be much longer than what I planned- whoops. Also, the Lafayette to Washington letter (August 25th, 1781) is real- I simplified it, and (of course) Col Layden was a replacement for Clel Morris. Also also, please ignore that Elizabeth Curstis couldn't have possibly met Washington before this situation, thank you and I'll see you in 5 weeks
"The Battle of Chesapeake Bay was one of the decisive battles of the world. Before it, the creation of the United States of America was possible; after it, it was certain." -Michael Lewis, The History of the British Navy
---
Mon chéri, Layden,
Interception has been Very Prominent in Virginia. Please do Hand the Report inside to Gen Washington.
-
My Dear General
Independent of the Answer to Your letter of the 15th, I Have Been particular in a Second letter Instrusted to Col Layden. But at this Moment I Wish to Send you an Account of Every thing I Have Experienced.
The Ennemy Have Evacuated their forts at Ivy, Kemp's Landing and Portsmouth. Some Cannon Have Been left at Portsmouth—But I Have Not Yet Received Proper Intelligence.
Cornwallis Begins fortifying at Yorktown I hear. They are Now Working By a Windmill, and I Understand they will Make a fort and a Battery for the defense of the River. I Have no Doubt that Something will Be done on the land Side. The works at Gloster are Finished- They Consist of Some (XXX)Redoubts Across Gloster Neck (9 and 10).
The Ennemy Have 60 Sails of Vessels in York River and about Seven other Armed Vessels. The Warships Are Very thinly Manned. On Board the other boats there Are Almost No Sailors. It Would Be easy to Overpower Did we have a Navy.
The British Army Had Been Sickly at Portsmouth. The Whole Cavalry Have Crossed on the Gloster Side Yesterday Evening- a Movement of Which I Gave Repeated Accounts to the Militia there. I keep spies upon Ennemy lines. The Moment I Can Get British Plans I will Send them to Your Excellency.
The Maryland troops were to Have Sat out on Monday last—But God knows if they will keep the Engagement. There An Immense Want of Cloathing of Every Sort, Arms, Ammunition, Hospital Stores, and Horse Accoutrements.
The Numbers of the British Army I Would Estimate at 4500 Rank and file. There is an Amazing number of Negroes which Cornwallis Freed, But (except at Working) they May Become an obstacle. In a Word this Part Affords the Greatest Number of Regulars and the only Active Army to Attak, which Having Had no Plan of defense, must Be Less Calculated for it than Any Garrison Either at Newyork or in Carolina.
With the Highest Respect and Most Sincere Affection I Have the Honor to Be My General Yr Most obedient Hble Servant
Lafayette
I am Sorry to Inform you that Gal Campdell of the Riflemen lately died of a fever at New Castle
-
I have Been long Complaining to the General that I had Nothing to do. But for the present, mon Cher, My Complaint is quite of an opposite nature- I have so many Arrangements to make, So many difficulties to Combat, so many Ennemies to Deal with that I am Just that much of a general as will Make me an Historian of Misfortunes, and Nail my Name Upon the Ruins of what folks are pleased to Call the army of Virginia.
I Wish I could Write you a Longer note alas I cannot. Cornwallis is on My Tail Again and I Have to Prepare for A Goosse Chase any Time now- he is Much wiser than the other Generals with whom I have Dealt. He does Inspire me with Sincere Fear, and his Name has greatly troubled My sleep.
I Know of Your Unwillingness to Write Letters, Mon Cher, But do spare me Of Worry if You are Able to. Do not Forget Your dear Friend who Loves you so. While Washington has Informed Me that you Fare Better he as Always Suffers From being very Vague. I wish to Hear how you Are and Know that you are Never Too Far From my Mind.
Had I-(XXX)I hav to go gt rdy. COrwalls s hre now. Adiu
Yrs
Lafyette
---
"Come on, everyone, hurry up, hurry up!" I shout, urging my horse to trot faster. My throat is dry from shouting. "We leave at nightfall!"
Three days have passed since Washington issued orders that we shall move to Yorktown. Considering the very short notice and that everyone was under the assumption that we would be attacking York City, there was a considerable amount of confusion. Since I was all packed up- except for my portable writing desk and quill- and have already put His Excellency's (very heavy) bag in the carriage, I was given the incredibly fun duty of shouting at people to hurry up for hours in the scorching summer sun.
Bugger, that Tilghman, kindly offering to do my part of correspondence because he wants me to be properly ready for a very taxing march. The man is too damn nice.
Stop being so nice
Agreed. Tilghman is going to kill himself if he keeps being so selfless.
"Come on, men!"
"Heard you the first time, you lockerham-jawed single peeper!" I pause, before turning around to give whoever said that a piece of my mind, but then I saw an awfully smug face that I haven't seen in a while.
"I'll have you know, both my eyes work perfectly well-" Mock disgust fills my face, "-Yet now I wish they perhaps didn't, Vaughan."
"Ah, Christ, you look even worse than last time!" The captain cackles, urging his own horse to ride to mine. "Long time no see, sir. Has George also put you on driver duty?"
I scoff. "That's His Excellency to you. First insulting me, then this? How are you still a captain?"
"I ask myself that every day," He answers with a grin, and I can't stop myself from smiling back. "T'has been a while, sir, how are you?"
"I fare alright- it's a lot of work, being an aide, especially since most of my coworkers decided to leave."
"Oh, why's that? I thought that- Qu'est-ce que vous faites?" He suddenly shouts to the side of me, taking out his saber and used the blunt side to whack something right next to me. When I look down, some soldiers- wearing black and red- were trying to nick a quill from my satchel. When one of them was hit in the shoulder, the other one laughed- Vaughan was having none of it. "La prochaine fois, ce sera votre gorge! Commencez à faire vos putains de bagages, ou nous vous laisserons avec Clinton!"
The Frenchmen skittered away, giggling like little girls.
"Mollies, that's what they are," Vaughan muttered dryly, making me freeze. After a pause, he huffs. "Knowing their country of origin, they probably are."
I scoff, ignoring the tightness in my stomach. "Frenchmen are not sodomites."
He gives me a look. "Name a Frenchman who isn't one."
"Are you insulting their honor? You know damn well that I can get you drummed out for these comments."
Jesus Christ child stop drumming the table
"Aha! You can't!"
I stutter. "I don't know many Frenchmen!"
And the one Frenchman I do know is... well. Vaughan is uncomfortably close to the truth, and I hate it. So instead I give him a good ole whack on the head.
"My, my, you are easy to fluster." I look back up at him, frowning. "Come on, everyone! Don't look at me like that, you look akin to a demented feline."
I never realized that you looked so much like a demented cat when you're jealous!
...
"...You alright, sir?"
"I'm... fine. Busy living my best rabid animal life." I shake my head and smile tightly. "So, how has life been treating you?"
"It has been... tiring." He chuckles. "It's war, non? I've been busy with the French, since I can speak such, and- My Lord, they are pompous."
I give him a look. "Oh, come on, be more compassionate. Come on everyone, we have to leave at sundown!" But he just shakes his head.
"You don't know them, sir!"
"I know... the Marquis?"
"I know the Marquis," He repeat with a scoff. "Aye, I know you consider the hero of Two Worlds to be like every other Frenchman, considering you didn't bother introducing him to me when I was right in front of him that one time- I'm still annoyed with you sir," He adds as an afterthought with an exasperated smile. "Major Lafayette be more American than most of the Southerners here."
I laugh. "Fair enough." I imagine Lafayette with an American accent. It's a funny image.
Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss
Ha! If Lafayette were an American, without a doubt he would be Virginian.
"So, how's Hamilton, how does he- oi, lads, the hell's going on there?" He suddenly shouts, and I turn to see two men brawling. They cease a moment after, being dragged apart by their friends.
"Sorry, sir!" One friend shouts back.
"Ye better be sorry- start packing or I'll skin ye myself!" He roars, before clearing his throat and looking back at me, continuing with his normal voice, as if nothing happened. "How does he fare?"
The very fluid switch of expression startles me. He looks like he does this all the time- and perhaps he does.
"He's alright, though not with us. He's currently with his wife in Albany- Though he'll be back any day now." A beat. "Hopefully." Another pause. "Hurry up everyone!"
"Hmm," Vaughan hums. "Anything else? Friends? Any ladies?" His tongue lolls teasingly on the ladies.
Peggy.
"No. There's no one."
If he notices my strained look, he says nothing, patting me on the shoulder. "Well, that's unfortunate. I believe I have told you about my Samantha?"
"Samantha?" I bite my lip, thinking. "No, though I do believe you spoke of a lady you fancy. The... best that the fairer sex has to offer, I think?"
Just from that, this ferocious man blushes like a little girl. "Aye, that be her. She's exactly that, and I'm over the moon to soon call her mine."
A beat of disbelieving silence.
"Wait, you're getting married?" I ask, shocked. When he nods, I laugh. "My God, congratulations! I so- man, I'm happy for you- who in their right mind would marry you?"
"Piss off, as if you know anything about women. What are you- forty, and you still be a bachelor!"
"Wha- Forty? Fuck you!"
Several men glare at us because of how hard we're laughing.
He grins widely, his face getting redder again. If I didn't know, I'd think he had rosacea from how flustered he was. "With much effort, I got her father's blessing. We plan to be wed in two months."
His smile is infectious, and a warm affection blooms in my chest. "My Lord, you're completely helpless."
I do I do I do I do
This time, I was the one that was whacked over the head, but it lacked any strength.
"If you don't invite me to the ceremony, I'm naming my future kin Nathaniel and drowning them. Doesn't matter if- hah!- if they be a lad or a lass."
He raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "You need a child first, and- frankly, I doubt you've even slept with an article."
"Neither have you, sir," I point out.
"Aye, but who's the one with the fiancée?"
"Fine then, I'll just nick a child off of the streets and drown them."
"Since when were you so cruel, Layden?"
"I shall use whatever means necessary to get to your wedding and warn the poor girl."
"Oi! I shall have you know she aided me when I was ill and mended my coat after I had to separate a particularly violent brawl- She has seen me at my worst yet she is still such a darling. And look-" he adds with an excited whisper, taking out something from his breast pocket for me to see.
It's a silver locket, and in it lay black strands of hair, glinting in the sunlight. A piece of her, just for him, a sign of endless love and devotion- tucked safely by his heart.
That is so damn adorable.
What did YOU do for your wife Thomas?
Who the hell is Thomas?
"Agh, I can't argue with that," I say, watching him smile fondly at the locket. He soon tucks it away and buttons the pocket for extra safety.
"But yes, of course you're welcome to come to the ceremony," he says warmly. "After this campaign."
"Aye," I nod. "After Yorktown."
---
If you ignore the lush greenery and thriving wildlife, you could argue that American countryside is a desert. After all, both places are absurdly hot, seemingly endless, have no people and no clean water to drink.
Well, there is never clean water, but especially now. Water being a light brown is not an issue, but I'm less comfortable drinking when it's a vivid green.
I'm thirsty. I've completely drained my water supply, and I gave my rum to a grateful Tilghman. I've spent most of my ride riding to the front and back of the marching army- issuing various orders from His Excellency and making sure that the back wasn't trudging too slow, as we were on a very strict time limit.
If we don't get to Virginia before Comte de Grasse does, Cornwallis will realize our plan and escape, which then would make our small army left up North under immense danger from Clinton.
And if everything goes well, then...
"For General Washington!" A captain shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Here," I raise my hand, and the letter is given to me, placed in my satchel with various other reports for His Excellency.
Speaking of His Excellency, it's been half an hour I been by his side- it's about time I go back to Him.
"Your Excellency- Sir-" I huff out after having to ride through most of the army to get to him. He turns to look at me, and I accidentally shove a bunch parchment on his chest. "-Sorry, reports."
He looks down at them, looks to Rochambeau, then to the road we still have to travel. "I have not time for them now. Find me reports of most import and hand them over. The rest you shall have to deal with."
I blink. "Me?"
"You have permission to write in my name. It should not be anything you have not seen before, I'm assured you will know what to-"
"Sir, I-" I fumble, "-I know what they are and I know what- but you're trusting me with such information?"
"Yes."
Is this some kind of trick?
"Even despite the many-? With all due respect, sir, have you not heard what Tallmadge has said about me?"
"I have. The fact, that I need this done, remains."
I'm speechless. Is he... insane? Shouldn't he take Tallmadge's warnings seriously, even if they're untrue?
"Why are you surprised, Colonel?" He asks. "You're my Chief of Staff- your job is to run the army for me. I do not believe that you shall make the best possible decisions, but I trust you to make decisions sound enough." His eyes flick me up and down. "Even if you were a spy, as my spymaster has suggested- complying is your only good option anyhow- if Major Tallmadge carries out his threat, I shall cast a blind eye."
tate to shoot you on the sp
"Fair," I mutter unsurely, looking at one of the reports more thoroughly, then relaxing- alright, I know what I have to do. Though I will need- "I will need some time for this, sir, and a proper desk."
"It is then just your luck that we shall be stopping at Mount Vernon for two nights for final preparations." I have to lean in closer, because Washington speaks so quietly I almost can't hear him. "While you shall get your own room- though I believe Hamilton will arrive on the second day- I do expect you to be close to me at all times, as... we have not much time to get this attack planned."
"Aye, sir, but..." My brows furrow. "Mount Vernon?"
"My home, Layden," His Excellency clarifies, then looks forward. "Home."
---
Being Washington's aide-de-camp comes with many perks- mainly the General's unconcealed favoritism to his military family compared to everyone else, which has reaped me many benefits over the years. I have seldom gone starving- hungry? Yes, we all have, but not starving- most days I can sleep in my own bed or a cot, I'm properly clothed and I have a very stable job.
But that favoritism really shows now when Washington invited me and Tench up to the mansion with the Generals, rather than making us stay down with the rest of the army. Walking after hours on horse was a pain, but the forests and fields around were beautiful.
Of course, the labour fields were hidden from public view. In some twisted way I'm thankful- I don't think I could bear seeing them.
All these lands, owned by the man in front of me. It's such a strange concept to me- owning lands is a luxury I'll never be able to afford, let alone... maintain. I couldn't bear to look at the fields to my left, surely filled with slave grown tobacco.
No
My God, why can't you shut up? What is it this time?
wheat
Wheat? Why would he ever harvest wheat? Tobacco is more valuable product.
"And those are the grain and wheat fields," Washington points out to several men. "That's one of five. I found that tobacco is unsustainable in Virginian soil, and that wheat is much easier to handle and therefore profit from."
...That was dumb luck and you know it.
goosegoosegoosegooseduck
The jarring and embarrassing realization that I'm trying to have an argument with nonsensical voices in my head is concealed by a shout of joy.
"Oh, George!"
"Father!"
"Pardon me, gentlemen," The general says, extracting himself from conversation.
I could barely take in the road to Mount Vernon in front of me because Washington in front me was rushed into an embrace by three people. In the midst of them, I could spot the lovely smile of Mrs Washington.
"Nelly, Jack," He breathes out with the softest smile I've seen on him. I take a look at the two young adults- the woman, a blonde and young beauty, is cradling a newborn baby. Washington's face lights up in shock and delight. "Is this..?"
"Aye, my love," Lady Washington says with an indulging smile, gesturing the blonde to hand over the baby to the General. Once seated in those large arms- His Excellency had to bend over slightly to not disturb the being- the baby babbled with a laugh, grabbing His thumb with a tiny hand.
"So strong already," Washington mutters adoringly, making the other man in the crowd chuckle.
"You'd be surprised, Pops," he says, brushing his hand over dark brown curls that look nothing like Washington's thin auburn hair. "We have resulted in not giving 'im anything, because whatever he gets his hands on, we're not getting it back."
Washington chuckles. "What have you decided his name to be?"
"George Washington," The blonde replied with a warm smile, making His Excellency look up. "A name fit for a magnificent man- just like his grandfather."
A pause. "Nelly, you need not have done such a thing. Your first, and perhaps only, son should be named after your father-"
"Nonsense, Papa," 'Nelly' said firmly, taking the child back. "My father would be happy for him to carry your name."
I'm thoroughly confused.
"J'ai l'impression que nous dérangeons," I hear someone whisper next to me.
"Au moins, nous sommes à l'ombre," The vicomte answers. A cool breeze passes by, briefly relieving me of my"Comme c'est mignon. Oh, comme ma Thérèse me manque. Sortez du pain, nous allons rester ici un moment."
"Grandpa! Grandpa, you're back!"
"Here the little rascal comes," The man with curly brown hair mutters, but Washington's face just splits into a grin.
"Where's my favorite grandchild?" He shouts, and he looks ten years younger. It's really strange to see him like that- I feel like I'm definitely intruding, and, from the looks of it, so is Tilghman.
Washington squats down, and into his arms jumps a little ball of energy, squealing and laughing as the General stands up and twirls the child- with unruly curls and dirty skirts- in the air.
From the looks of the wild energy and dirty skirts, it's a boy that hasn't been breeched yet-
"Oh, you've grown so much, my dear Eliza!" The child puckers her lips, and the General kisses her lightly.
-or perhaps not.
"I told you to wait by the house Elizabeth, how could you leave your aunt like that?" The curly-haired man scolds. "Grandfather has very important guests, you can not just dishonor us like that!"
Elizabeth pouts, clinging to His Excellency tighter. "But I missed Grandpa! I thought he's dead!"
"Dear, you think that every time," 'Nelly' says softly, and the child harrumphs. "Just because the British want to wring Grandad's neck doesn't mean he's getting shot left and right."
"Grandad is strong, dear, I'll always find a way to come home. You need not worry over me," His Excellency says, lowering the girl to the ground- she clings to his leg. He pats her head, before looking up, a flicker of worry in his eyes. "And where is Patsy..? Is she... alright?"
"Aye, she's waiting for you by the doors- as Eliza should have," The young man chides, crossing his arms.
"Well then, there is no need to stall." His Excellency nudges Eliza. "Come on, we're going to Auntie Martha."
The military staff- me included- follow him to the house patiently. The last time Washington has seen his family was- what- several years ago? I'm surprised that this Eliza even knows who Washington is. The least we could do was let him reunite- though Rochambeau has checked his pocket watch three times by now.
The aunt wasn't waiting by the house- in fact, she was slowly limping towards us with a intricate pram, a light smile on her face. Her thin brown curls stuck to her head, unwashed and unpowdered, contrasting her deathly pale face. Her dainty features would have been beautiful if she didn't look emaciated. Every step she took seemed to cause her pain, leaning heavily against the small carriage, yet she still steadily made her way towards us.
"Martha, you shouldn't be walking." Washington strides towards her, little Elizabeth still on his leg. "I have just come back, the last thing that I want is for you to have another fit."
She smiles weakly, and speaks so very quietly. "...Would that make you... stay?"
He sighs, pained. "Patsy, there is nothing more that I would wish to do... but-"
"I jest, Papa." She lets go of the tram, gets on her tiptoes and weakly wraps her arms around his shoulders. They hug.
She's supposed to be dead
What?
The bitch-ass voices are silent when they separate, surrounded by the rest of the... Washingtons? I think? I'm not too sure- no one looks anything like His Excellency. I can spot two other children in the pram- girls, since they're dressed in blue- making the count of children four.
Rochambeau clears his throat after another few moments, having checked his pocket watch seven times.
"My apologies, how rude of me," he says with a smile, turning to us too. "This is Vicomte du Rochambeau, commander of the French forces in America." The Vicomte bows firmly after Tilghman's translation. "This is lieutenant-colonel Solomon Layden and Tench Tilghman, my aides de camp." I also bow, much more awkwardly than Rochambeau. Mrs Washington's eyes light up in recognition, and she waves politely in my direction- I smile back.
"This is my wife, Martha." He pauses for Rochambeau to kiss Lady Washington's hand. "And these are my children- Martha, John and Eleanor." Eleanor, I think, tried to hide a flustered smile by looking down at the baby she cradles. Her light features starkly contrasted the two other adults, who were dark in everything but skin colour.
"I was told that you have no children, Your Excellency?" Tilghman translates a confused Rochambeau's words. Washington pauses- mild irritation and annoyance pass his features- then sighs.
"Come on, love," Mrs Washington nudges him with a teasing smile. "Don't be lazy."
"Alright then-" He clears his throat, then gesturing at each person, "-This is my stepdaughter Martha Curstis and my stepson Jack Parke Curstis, this is my stepson's wife and my stepdaughter-in-law, Eleanor Calvert Custis."
He takes a breath, "And these are my step-grandchildren, Elizabeth Curstis, Martha Curstis, Eleanor Curstis, and-" Barely able to contain his excitement with a tight-lipped smile, His Excellency taps the nose of the fidgeting baby in Eleanor's arms, "-George Washington Curstis."
All the children are so small- the eldest girl couldn't be more than five, still clinging to His Excellency's leg with a toothy grin on her face. He smiled endearingly at her, before looking up to the pram and kissing the two girls there- Martha and Eleanor- on the forehead.
This family has three Marthas. My God.
"How have you been, Patsy?" He asks the sickly lady softly. "Have any fits ailed you recently?"
"Papa," She croaks out, her frail white hand gesturing to me and Rochambeau. "It is not polite."
deadeadeadeadeadead
She's not fucking dead, she's right in front of me-Shut up!
He looks at us as if he just realized that we were still here. "Alright then- should we head inside, gentlemen?"
"Mon dieu, enfin, je suis trop vieux pour ça," Rochambeau mutters dryly under his breath, and I see him wipe sweat from his forehead.
"Yes, sir," I say, and Washington leads the way to his magnificent home. Though it was large, I observed as I walked, it didn't look like anything of my expectations. I expected something tall, magnificent, intimidating- perhaps a dark stone palace that towered over hills and forests, something that reflected the man in front of me.
Instead, by a large field on top of the hill, stood a farm house, with two smaller huts next to it. It was large, sure- I could count about nine windows across one of the two floors- but the bright red roof gave the mansion a very cosy feel.
It was beautiful, but it also felt like a home- the home of a rich farmer rather than a feared general.
Rochambeau barely glanced at the incredible hallway, instead grabbing von Steuben by the arm and dragging him off somewhere. Lady Washington scoffed, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Do not mind him, love," His Excellency said with an amused smile. "The vicomte is an eccentric man with much to do. We have other guests."
"Aye, we do. Lizzy, be a dear- get off of Grandpa and go play with your dolls."
"I don't wanna go! I wanna stay with Grandpa!"
Lady Washington sighs. "Elizabeth- leave."
And with the girls be handy
"But I don't wanna!" She whines. Her cries go unheard as the blonde Eleanor- her mother- picks her up and carries her out of the room.
She turns to us, embarrassed. "Apologies for such disrespectful behavior, my granddaughter still be young and forgetful of her manners. Please, let us continue to the dining hall- I am sure you are all famished."
"That we are, Ma'am," Tallmadge says, and everyone shares a polite laugh.
After an incredible plate of fried catfish- I haven't eaten so well in at least a year- I thought that that the good times were over and that I'd be placed in a shed or something (which would have been fine, of course), but I was instead given a whole ass guest room!
Granted, it was in the attic by the storerooms and there were no windows, but there was a bed. A double bed.
I have never felt so rich in my life.
Except maybe in Philadelphia. God, that was a while ago.
"You'll have to share with Hamilton when he arrives," Washington said when he showed me to the room. As if the day couldn't get any better.
Though I couldn't savor it for long- I'm here to work. After about twelve minutes of settling in- didn't take long, considering the only belongings I have is that old backpack I don't need but am too scared to leave out of my sight- I was called down to the first floor, where Rochambeau and Washington were already in heated conversation, Tilghman in the middle. Rochambeau was going on a long French rant, Washington was listening to him, not understanding but ready to answer, while Von Steuben was calmly placing blocks on the map.
"Good afternoon," I say to Von Steuben, who- despite not speaking English- chuckles and rolls his eyes, giving me blocks to place in specific places.
"Meine Damen und Herren - die besten Generäle Amerikas streiten sich um Redouten," He mutters under his breath with a scoff. He then switched languages, asking me for "Bloc rouge, s'il vous plaît. Rouge." Silence. "Rott."
I give him a red block, and he places it on the water. That's where British Admiral Graves presumably is. If he gets into the Chesapeake, this whole campaign goes down the drain.
This whole siege relies on Admiral Grasse now to fend him off. And what's most likely to happen is a Naval battle- if everything goes well...
Well, we're not attacking the Commander-in-Chief, and Cornwallis' men make up a fraction of the British army- a big fraction, but a fraction nonetheless. There's no way this will be our final battle, but it's been a long time since we've won. This might give some people a reason to continue fight for freedom.
And we'll get some nice weapons and bragging rights for a few months.
---
"-If the Virginia Capes remain unprotected, then Cornwallis has a way to escape-"
"Sir, with all due respect, we know," I answer. "'Tis why Grasse's fleet is going to block the entrance to the Chesapeake. Our fleet is larger than theirs- we outgun them by several men of war. That is now in Grasse's hands- even if he is not victorious, we still have to besiege Cornwallis, and we can inflict damage even if he eventually escapes."
Water runs down the window outside. I can faintly hear the patter of rain on the roof two floors away. I'm again so happy that I'm not down in camp with the rest of the army.
His Excellency looks at me, and sighs. "Okay, fine then, we have to follow Rochambeau lead. I have no experience in Sieges, therefore whatever plan he concocts shall be the one we use."
okokokokokokokokokokokok
"Mon Dieu, enfin," Rochambeau breathes out when he hears the translation, suddenly taking out a large map from under his cloak that I'm pretty sure wasn't there before. He opens it- it's a map of Virginia- and there are intricate markings, lines, arrows- all surrounded with text scattered all around.
"He's been planning this out for weeks, hasn't he?" I whisper to Tilghman, who snorts.
"Oh please, sir, he has this plan ready the moment he heard about Grasse's fleet. See all the English text on it?" I look and yes, most of what's written on it is in English. "He had made me write all that."
Before I could answer, Rochambeau cleared his throat very loudly, pointedly glaring at Tilghman.
"I'm here, I'm here," He says, rubbing his eye tiredly. "Vous n'avez pas de patience, monsieur."
"Oui." He smiles sarcastically. "Maintenant commencez à traduire." The vicomte starts spitting out sentence after sentence, words tumbling over each other in an almost inhuman speed. Tilghman sends me a helpless look. Somewhere in the house, a door opens and closes.
Eminem that you
"Lafayette has written to me personally of intelligence, of Clinton's orders he intercepted- they all contradict each other. In one letter, he's requesting reinforcements for New York-" Tilghman huffs between translation, and we all share a smile, "-In another he suggests a march toward towards Philadelphia and finally one to stay in Virginia."
"All of these orders, almost at once? Clinton seems nervous," I say.
"That's because he is," Washington answers. "Tallmadge gave him quite a scare with his letters- a commendable job, truly." Tallmadge, who's behind Von Steuben, smiles to his feet. "Clinton is acting irrationally- Cornwallis pays for it, and assumes defensive."
"Like a little hedgehog," Tilghman translates Von Steuben's words. "If we attack him, we'll get spiked- literally."
"So what do we do? Shoot them back? Do nothing?" I ask. "How do sieges usually go?"
"That's a waste of men- the Hessians and British are the best soldiers in the world, we will not outmatch them directly." Rochambeau shakes his head as Tilghman translates, then pointing to the map. "If everything goes well, we won't have to. We'll take them by surprise, and they won't have time to get ready."
Rochambeau really likes surprise attacks. Hey, if it works, it works.
"They're using trenches, and we shall use the same thing too. We start digging a parallel trench- 4 feet deep and 10 feet wide- where Cornwallis' fire cannot reach nor can he see, and we reign hell upon them."
"Language, Colonel."
"Sorry, sir, but please do not kill the translator." Tilghman answers, then continues. "Then, if that does not intimidate him, we shall have to dig out another parallel trench, much closer to his fort- that will require a direct attack."
"On the redoubts nine and ten," I note when my eyes land second parallel line crossing both redoubts.
"So we need two groups of men." Washington looks to me. "How many men would be approximately need to take them?"
I go up to the map, glance at notes of the redoubt- they offer only a rough estimate of the men there. If a man is one third more likely to die in a direct attack then a surprise one, and taking account of the men in the redoubts to be safe- "If it be a direct attack- I'd estimate about six to seven hundred men. Were it a surprise attack, I'd be thinking four hundred."
Washington looks to Rochambeau. "Your Excellency, a surprise attack would be both more efficient and less costly. I already have chosen a man for redoubt nine, and your men will have to take redoubt ten."
"Alright, who should I..?" Washington looks to the ceiling with a sigh. He needs a man, perhaps a captain- Generals don't take such a small amount of men- who's trustworthy and capable of commanding and keeping his men in check.
Wait.
"Hamilton could do it," falls out of my mouth I can stop myself. Washington looks at me like he's a tired parent and I'm a very persistent child, but I don't care. "No, sir, really, he could- you have seen his abilities as a captain at Trenton, and he has been a loyal aide to you for years- 'Tis the least be deserves."
"Layden, I need Hamilton here, as an aide, because who will-?"
"Sir, with all due respect- how much writing do you think will have to be done in the middle of a battle? Tench and myself will be enough," I insist.
Washington's eyes slit, before he looks away. "We shall discuss this later." He'll try to brush me off, but I'll be damned if Alex doesn't get his rightful command. I open my mouth to retort, but I get interrupted.
"Wait- the first parallel. That's- that's- the trench is more that half a mile, sir!" Tallmadge exclaims, and my eyes widen. The map scale shocks me- I thought this siege was over a much smaller area. "How will we achieve such a thing?"
"Colonel- I'll use the metric system for a second- if it takes six hours for four-hundred and fifty men to build 250 meters of trench, would fifteen hundred men be able to dig about a kilometer of trench in five or six hours?"
"Yes," I answer after about five seconds, storing the Alex issue for later. "If we try hard enough, I'm sure we could finish with a few hours to spare."
"Which is why we'll have to work more quickly and efficiently than ever," Washington says with a hum. "Let us say we have the trenches- what is our next course of action?"
"As Rochambeau said before, we fire at them," Tilghman translates Von Steuben's words. "If that does not work- and it shall probably not- we start digging the second trench. Before we do that, we'll have to take the redoubts. "
"Sir, please, you h-" Washington raises his hand, silencing me.
"Then?"
"Same strategy. Fire until they break."
"This siege and victory-" Rochambeau whacks his knuckles on the map, amber eyes staring directly at Washington's, "-is now reduced to mere calculation."
"If Grasse comes in time," Washington adds coldly.
"Et voilà que tout mon plan lui passe au-dessus de la tête!" Rochambeau snapped, exasperated. "Vous êtes tellement paranoïaque - il viendra- Vous êtes tous des idiots! Vous tous!"
"Surveillez votre langage, monsieur," A familiar voice said out behind me, the crisp 'r's too strong to be from anywhere other than the Caribbean. Time stopped, only leaving me and my quickening heartbeat.
I hold my breath, slowly turning around. Is that- It is!
The familiar voice is paired with a familiar face. With auburn curls and coat soaked from the downpour outside, he looks like a drowned rodent, yet it's the best goddamn sight I've seen in a long time.
"Hamilton," I breathe out, and he smiles widely.
"Layden," Alexander says, gaze burning into my soul. My legs itch to run to him, pull him into a hug, but the presence of Washington and Rochambeau don't allow me that privilege. Instead, I take a moment to look at him.
He's gained quite a bit of weight- he no longer looks like a withered skeleton, his cheekbones no longer protruding out of his skin, cheeks glowing a healthy red. Water drips on Washington's very nice oak floor from Alexander's coat, and he winces apologetically.
"Colonel, it is good to see you," Washington starts. "How was your journey?"
Alexander's eyes don't leave mine. "Quite hectic, I shall admit." At that very moment, a quiet rumble of thunder reaches us from the windows, making him shiver uneasily. "Apologies for my appearance."
It's storming outside, I realize with horror. Alex wraps his coat tighter around himself, plastering on a smile too casual.
"It is of no offense. I hope you do not mind us continuing our meeting- you are welcome to stay, we have almost finished." My eyes never leave him, scanning him for anything out of place.
"Of course, sir." He dips his head down, and sits down in a chair behind my back. I turn to look, but Rochambeau says something, and I have to turn back.
The rest of the meeting I couldn't concentrate, not with Alexander staring a hole into my back. Much else wasn't said, anyway. Rochambeau soon exited with a swish of his cloak, followed by Von Steuben. Tallmadge slunk out of the room soon after.
"Layden, write to Greene, Wayne and Lincoln about... this," he gestures at the map, not bothering to elaborate. "I'll write to Lafayette personally." After a moment, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Forget that, I have not time, I shall write him a note that you shall include in your own- write to Greene, Lafayette, Wayne and Lincoln."
"Aye aye, sir- should I write just of information or should I start drafting orders?"
"Orders. You heard the vicomte- and you the information you need is on the map. You're welcome to use my name, Lafayette's letter being an exception."
"Of course, sir."
"Thank you. Now, please do not disturb me if I am not needed- I wish to spend time with my family with the little time I have." His lips tighten, and he strides out of the door.
The door closes. A moment of silence.
I look at Alex, who sighs and looks straight back at me, a deadpan look seared across his face.
"Hi?"
He scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head though unable to control his grin. "Oh, fuck greetings- come here, you cruel son of a bitch."
I laugh in relief as Alexander grabs me into a tight embrace. The familiar smell of sweat and ink, and something else distinctly Alexander, fills my senses. My clothes are soak in the rainwater from his coat, but I could care less. Alex sighs deeply, melting further into the embrace.
"I'm really a bad influence, amn't I?"
"Mmm?"
"Fuck greetings, cruel son of a bitch? I'm flattered- Have you missed me that much?" His grip on my waist tightens, and I ruffle his soaked hair.
"'Tis be exactly what you are. How dare you worry me so? You promised me to write!" He looks up at me, and my God, I've missed those eyes. They burn with a fire, something I thought not possible for blue eyes before meeting him.
"I know, I'm sorry... Shit happened, I suppose."
He knows- how can he not?- but says nothing, instead laying his head on my chest.
"Shit definitely happened!" He exclaims and I can feel it reverberate in my chest. "I thought you were jesting when you said that you would- what the hell happened for you to be suddenly so- you were so afraid of His Excellency's presence before! Wha- How?"
I laugh. "What can I say? I got bored without you around."
Fiddled with the trigger
Fuck off.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
"Perhaps I should have left sooner," he teases. "Then you could have done so much more."
"Nah, we definitely need you here- I never realized how much work you do until I had to do it. You're one brilliant man, Alexander, truly incredible- I don't think you get told that enough." I know I'm preening him, but hey- he deserves it.
"Not from you, I don't." His lips quirk up to a smug smirk and rubs his head against me like a preened cat.
So, just like a cat, I ruffle his hair, and he tries- and fails- to bat my hand away.
"Okay, enough compliments, listen-" I say, leading him to the map, intertwining my fingers with his. "-summarizing a very long story short- we've got two redoubts to attack, really important- Frenchies are taking redoubt nine, and we are taking redoubt ten."
"Alright, who's commanding it?"
"That's the thing- Washington isn't sure yet. And the thing is, I kind of guilt-tripped him into considering you for a command-"
"You did?"
"-Of course I did, now shut your bone box and listen- I've already told him that he should consider you specifically for this, he doesn't seem to have any reason to not do so."
"Okay, okay, okay," He says, squeezing my hand and thinking. "What does this- this command entail?"
"Surprise attack, middle of the night, four hundred men, bayonets- you know. Difficult, but this has to be done- you'd definitely be able to do it."
"Well-" he smiles, "-Let's see how persuasive I can get. Now, I hear you have to write to the Generals?"
I sigh. "Aye, I do. Go get your command, Alex- you'll find me on the second floor, writing my youth away."
The little rascal cackles. "What youth? You're almost thirty, old man!"
I would have chased him if he hadn't already rushed to the living room for safety.
---
Layden,
When you get this, I'll almost be by American shore. I shall join the army in Wlliamsburg courtesy to my father.
John Laurens
Subtlety is not your strongest suit. No Frenchmen were harmed during my stay in France.
-
My Dear Lafayette,
I hope your well and that Cornwallis has not caused to much trouble in Yorktown. I have heard that you my Marquis and Greene make an Exceptional team and I wish to congratulate you on all that you have done. I hear your Exhaustion and please know that I hear you, Excellency Hears you, and your efforts shall pay off.
While my schedule is completely full, I still do miss yourself in those few moments for myself. I use your rose as a bookmark- perhaps unwisely as my heart breaks any time a stray petal falls off- but await seeing you again. Perhaps after this k̶a̶i̶m̶p̶a̶ ̶c̶a̶m̶p̶a̶n̶ ̶f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶E̶n̶g̶l̶i̶s̶h̶ ̶l̶a̶n̶g̶u̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶ campain I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again.
Underneath are Generals orders.
-
I painstakingly write the same thing I've wrote to Wayne and Lincoln, with but a few modifications.
-
Now it has been decided that Redoubt 9 will be taken by Deux-Points (400 men) and the command for redoubt 10 (400 men give or take) hasn't been decided yet--
-
"Hullo?" A meek voice said behind me, and I put my quill down. Leaving the ink to dry, I turn around to see a little girl- Elizabeth, I think- shyly standing by the doorway, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves.
"Good afternoon, little miss," I say with a smile, and she stares at me, brown eyes wide and unblinking.
"Are you a ghost?" She asks instantly, the sudden question making me laugh in surprise. She pouts. "That wasn't a joke! Are you a ghost?"
I hum. "Well, it depends how you look at it, I suppose. Ghosts aren't supposed to be alive, no? Why do you ask?"
"You don't have eyes! If ghosts were real they definitely wouldn't have eyes and you-!" She points at my face, puffing out her chest and exclaims dramatically, "-Don't have eyes!"
"I don't have-?" I laugh. "I have eyes, otherwise how would see you?"
"Ghosts don't need eyes to see! You're a ghost!" Fear flashes in her eyes, but it's overshadowed by the wonder in them. Her eyes momentarily flick to the stairs to see if she still has an escape, but she remains in the room, pointing at me. Children are hilarious.
I decide to play with the little girl. "And what if I was?"
"Granddad told me to stay away from ghosts! He says that- that they really don't like people and will take me away and eat me if I talk to them for longer than seven minutes!"
Weirdly specific but ok
"His Excellency?" At the confused look, I sigh, muster all of my courage and push out "Grandpa... George? He said that? Does he not have white eyes himself?"
"No, he has no eyes! The ghosts took his eyes and ate them! He barely managed to escape!" Aren't Washington's eyes a result of a disease? That is... a very peculiar and needlessly gruesome way of explaining the concept of contagion to a child.
No longer contagious
How the fuck would you know?
ither have I abandonned the idea that 'tis most adviseable for you to remain in Europe 'till the differen
Yeah, that's what I thought. Bitch.
"Well, that was very lucky of him, but why would you think that I would want to eat you?"
"You look like you haven't eaten anything ever- wait, are you going to eat me?" Suddenly, her large eyes are filled with fear. Her lip trembles, and she stumbles backwards, and an evil thought crosses my mind.
"Well, those seven minutes are really coming to an end, aren't they?" I say, and lick my lips with a toothy grin. She runs away screaming, and I cackle for more dramatic effect. I'm probably going to cause her severe trauma from that, but who cares? It's the eighteenth century.
I turn to start writing again, but something again interrupts me.
"We have it!" I hear a shout and thundering footsteps upstairs. The moment I turn to the noise I'm tackled by Alexander in a hug. "Solomon, we have it!"
"Alex- oh, fuck!" I shout out as I completely lose balance, making us both tumble to the ground. My back hits the floor, and- in the nick of time- Alexander manages to cover the back of my head before it bounces on the hard oak.
"Alexander, the hell's gotten into you?"
"The command," Alexander says with a breathless grin. "We have the command! I got the damn thing!"
"No way. No fucking way!"
The next quarter an hour of that night we spent on the bed, squealing and gossiping like teenage girls.
-
Ignore the last sentence. I just got news that our Alexander got the command! Finally, he gets what he rightfully deserves! He also sends his wishes. I would write a longer letter but I am afraid that my head will fall forward and hit the desk- it's past midnight, thank Excellency for making me write to all the General's.
Excellency's note is included below. Adieu my dear, until we meet again. Strangely, I don't think Ive told you this, but I Love you and I always will.
Thank you for everything, truly.
Solomon L
-
I have received with satisfaction, My Dear Marquis, the information of the Arrival of the Count de Grasse—And have an additional pleasure in finding that your ideas on every occasion have been, so consonant to my own, and that by your Military dispositions & prudent Measures you have anticipated all my wishes.
I forbear to enter into more particulars, as I will set out, for the Theatre of Action tomorrow, and hope to have the pleasure of communicating with you personally in a very few days, and of making every Arrangement in conjunction with the Admiral, which may be deemed necessary. I am, My Dear Marquis, With every sentiment of esteem & friendship Your Most Obedt Servt
---
"Oh, it feels good to be back," Alexander groans, stretching his back and almost falling off of his horse. "I missed having to wake up at dawn."
I snort, ruffling his hair affectionately. It has gotten very fluffy during his stay with the Schuylers. "You're the only one who feels like that."
He bats my hand away with a pout that's befitting of a child. "You don't understand- it was so very refreshing living with Betsey- she's a darling, truly- but at times it felt like isolation. My fingers itched for work or action, something, but there was nothing- nothing." He huffs. "Perhaps I went stir-crazy- your silence was of no help."
My smile falters. "I... yeah, sorry about that."
His violet eyes widen, and he stutters. "I- you- no, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to..." I hate the pity that fills his face. "...Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I'm better not- better not thinking of her," but my voice cracks. I shake my head. "Perhaps after the war, but not now- I just- I wasted weeks of my life in bed, I can't afford to put myself in such a state now."
Alexander hums mutely. "I only heard of... you know, from our french friend. I wished you confided in me, but I don't blame you. And I hope you blame yourself not, but Angelica certainly does," he adds, making me let out a sharp laugh.
"Mrs Church? That is of no surprise to me."
"Oh?" He looks surprised. "Do you also have a low opinion of her? I thought her strange peeve was one-sided."
"I don't... I don't know. She just seems to be so... full of herself. I believe there is nothing wrong with a woman being confident, but the first thing she asked of me was my country of origin, so... eh." I shrug, which probably came off really passive aggressively- because that's what it was.
He sighs. "Sounds like Angelica. The comments about my exotic accent-" True frustration and disgust fills his face for a second, "-and my body get... tiring."
"What did she say?" I ask, concerned.
I stole your son's watch. Please beat him.
"Compliments," he answers, monotone. "Compliments. Perhaps to tease her sister, or to arouse me."
"In anger or sexually?"
"Both?" He shrugs unsurely. "It be a daunting task to remain nice and polite when I'm..." He bits his lip, stays quiet for a moment. "...Taken." His eyes then suddenly light up. "And Laurens, how is he? Where is he?"
"Hmm. Actually-" I look through my satchel and take out the note that Laurens sent me. "-Just got a letter. He'll be waiting in Williamsburg for us."
He grabs the note, and reads it with a small smile. When he looks up, I swear there are hearts in his eyes, just like Dalia drew his counterpart. "What is this about no Frenchmen harmed?"
"Oh, it's nothing- you know his temper."
"Aye, I do." He smiles again, an affectionate softness. "I miss him so. I missed you so. It's good to be back."
He's one adorable fucker.
"Oh, by the way-" Alex says absentmindedly, "-Betsey's pregnant."
Silence. I think my heart stopped.
"What?" He laughs at my expression. "For real this time?" At his fervent nodding, I whack him over the head. "You cock, why wasn't that the first thing you told me?"
He chortles cheekily, speedily riding away from me the front- I'm having none of it. "Come here, you son of a gun! Elizabeth's pregnant? Really?"
Preggo eggo
I chase him and catch him by the collar, and he laughs again. I repeat myself. "She's pregnant? Holy shit, that's news! That's incredible, I'm so- I'm so happy for you!"
Though there was mention of it before, I never thought such a day would arrive. My brother in everything but blood has a child on the way!
I grab his face and kiss both his cheeks in excitement, which is quite a feat considering we're both saddled. My heart's is trying to escape from my chest- will this child have his fiery hair, his dainty and lithe figure, or perhaps- more importantly- his determination or wit? His passionate and obsessive gleam in their eyes, that shall maybe be such a rich blue they shine violet?
"This is... I'm speechless. How am I- this is- My God." I laugh, but it was interrupted by a sound of thunder. I freeze in a smile, and every single man around me halts, looking around in confusion. I look
It happens again. The rumble of thunder echoes through the countryside before-
BOOM!
No, not thunder. Cannons.
"Everybody stay calm!" I shout. The noise is coming from the bay- I strain to look, but I see nothing. "We are not under attack! Keep marching! We have to get to Lafayette's army by nightfall!"
The men unsurely keep marching, and Alexander asks "The hell's going on?"
"Clinton sent a bunch of ships down South to help Cornwallis, but little did he know that we've got our own fleet that was waiting for his arrival."
He slowly nods. "So you're telling me..?"
"That's Grasse and Graves in the Chesapeake. If Grasse- our man- loses, it makes this whole siege slightly more complicated."
"But if we win?" Alex asks.
"His Excellency is unsure," I reluctantly say, and he deflates slightly.
"As he should be, I suppose. France hasn't won a Naval battle against Britain since... 1690, I recall?" Alexander answers, then shakes his head. "All we can do now is hope."
The cannons didn't stop for hours. As we trudged along, I could almost feel the ground shake from the force of the cannons. Over the hours, strong winds brought heavy grey clouds, and the smell of imminent rain became apparent- though, as we continued walking, we were still spared of the downpour, but it is only a matter of time until it starts to rain again.
I rode next to Washington quietly, having done he has ordered for the moment. My backside and thighs ache from riding for so long, and I know it will hurt into the next week. My horse whines as another cannon booms over the fields, and I pet her softly to give some comfort.
"Sir, sir!" A messenger boy suddenly sprints right to Washington, breathing very heavily. "An urgent message from Major Marquis de Lafayette!"
Before the boy even finished his sentence, the letter he was carrying was snatched by His Excellency and ripped open. His eyes flit all over the letter, widening like saucers the longer he reads. Butterflies try to eat their way of my stomach, and I quietly ask "Your Excellency, sir?"
"No," He states bluntly, after a moment. Then his brows furrow, and expression morphs into cautious disbelief. "No, that can't be."
O, ¿yo soy el inculto? No me hagas reír
He absentmindedly hands me the letter and makes his horse trot to the very top of the hill. With my heart thundering in my chest, I urge mine to do the same. As I approach, the expanse of the sapphire blue sky opens reveals itself, littered by fluffy clouds- though some were grey, it didn't smell like rain was coming- and below was the Chesapeake. It glittered blue, and-
Warships.
I'm taken aback by the sheer size and amount of them. These giant monsters slowly slink past us, tall and intimidating. The huge sails blow in the wind, twice, thrice the size of a house. Black cannons jut out from the corners, watching us menacingly, daring us to do something. A huge shadow goes over the land they pass, despite the distance from the shore.
But they're-
"Retreating," Washington whispers, lowering his spyglass. Rochambeau laughs, first quietly before it continually increased in volume, expressing the most euphoric glee I have ever heard.
This can't be- can it?
The vicomte turns to our men, and roars out a 'Soldats!' with a face-splitting grin, followed by a flurry of words I couldn't grasp, thankfully, Alexander was on it before anyone could ask, an uncontrolled smile on his face.
"Men! Captain Graves has retreated! "
He turns to me, shock and excitement burning in his violet eyes. I feel lightheaded from how fast my heart's pumping.
The only way Cornwallis can escape is through the Chesapeake, but-
"The Chesapeake is ours!"
Despite the tens of miles they have marched, beaten and exhausted, the army roars louder than a hurricane.
---
I thought we would never arrive, and yet here we were. Yorktown stood in front of us, about a mile away- though we couldn't see it through the night and downpour. I sigh shakily, looking to Alexander.
"What now?" He asks. "Do you think Cornwallis knows we're here?"
bang
BANG!
The shot came from the British side, but it hit nowhere near us, splintering some poor tree in the swamp surrounding the town.
"There's our answer. Clearly, he can see us as well as we can see him." I then look to Washington, who looked to Rochambeau, who stuck one finger in the air.
"Parallel one," I whisper, then nudge Alex. "Alexander, go to your men."
"I- but what about you?"
"Don't worry, I'll be with you in redoubt 10, but I'm still Washington's Chief of Staff- I'll be with you as soon as possible. Go on, Laurens is waiting."
"Alright." He goes to walk away, but I suddenly grab his hand.
"Alex?"
"What?"
The pickaxes are already being given out. I smile shakily. "I- just... I love you."
His expression softens. "I love you too, Soul." He then grins again, and there's just enough light to see the fire in his eyes. "See you in a bit?"
"Aye. See you." I release his hand, and he blends into the darkness of the crowd. I'm handed a pickax, which I almost dropped on my toes from how heavy it was. We're all given one- Rochambeau being the only exception. Surprisingly, right before the man giving out the tools passed Washington, he mutters a quiet "a pickax, please." Rochambeau's, and- frankly- everyone else's, eyebrows raised, and the boy shyly gave his Excellency the pick before skittering away.
We waited for his command. It never came.
Instead, His Excellency stepped to where the parallel shall be dug.
We all watch him, silent. He breathes in and out, chest rising and falling deeply.
Then Washington raises his pickax high above his head. Torchlight glints off of the metal, before it strikes the ground, sending dirt and earth everywhere. The action is so small, so simple, but the weight of it is so clear.
The Yorktown siege has begun.
When His Excellency's tool comes up again, another pickaxe rises, hits the ground, then another pickaxe joins, then another, and another, and another.
Somewhere in there, perhaps a mile away, Vaughan's raised his pickaxe. Somewhere lower down in the south, Lafayette's pickaxe strikes the ground. Somewhere by my side, Alexander starts digging into the dirt. Somewhere in there, my pickaxe joins the harmony of scraping and striking- and you will find me there long after midnight, long after my palms are blistered and bruised, long after everything but my will to keep going left me.
And I shall stay there, just like every other American, until the sun rises back up again.