Autumn was wearing its brightest apparel on my
vacation to southeast Pennsylvania two weeks ago, as you can tell from this
photo I took. But the setting—Valley Forge—might come as a great surprise to my readers—though I doubt if they
would be more surprised than Continental Army soldiers, in the winter of
1777-78, facing a gray, muddy landscape, might be at the thought that joggers,
walkers, families, and couples would one day enjoy the grounds where they
waited patiently, often starving, for what might be an enemy attack.
I intend to write about that legendary, but often
misunderstood, episode in American history two months from now. But for now,
let’s just say that the service personnel here, badly clothed for the weather
they faced, would have looked askance at the word “finery,” even when used for
poetic (or quasi-poetic) purposes, as I’m doing here. They would have substituted
“foppery” for “finery,” as it reminded them of a world of corruption being perpetrated
by the mother country without their consent.
Approximately 1,800 enlisted men—roughly 10% of
George Washington’s force—died here in the five months of this third winter
encampment of the Continentals. It was one of the early sacrifices for this
country that we remember—and honor—on Veterans Day.
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