Chapter Thirty One
John Laurens
My Dearest Colonel Laurens,
It is the happiest of days and the greatest cause of celebration - General Washington has given me a command! There is to be a battle before long - the details of which I must not disclose. In that battle, I have the honor of a command. I will command both Washington's men, and a small faction of Rouchambeau's men, due to my fluency in the French language.
It is my most sincere wish that our paths will cross sometime during my command. If it is not my fate to see you until after the battle, then I will have many tales of valor to tell you. Perhaps I will have a few new scars to show you.
I regret that time will not permit me to write you as long a letter as I wish. I am responsible for training my men, ensuring that they are uniformed respectably, and reporting to General Washington on their progress. I vow that I will write a much more detailed letter once the battle is over. I will tell you with respectable sufficiency just how much I adore you. I will devote entire pages to the way that you pout.
Adieu.
Yours,
A. Hamilton
John smiled as he set down Hamilton's letter. He had known that Hamilton would get a command, eventually, but he did wish that he had been present to watch Hamilton's face light up when it happened. He wished that he could be at camp with Hamilton, discussing all of the mistakes he had made when he first received his own command, and asking questions about his leadership style. He wanted to listen to Hamilton talk about his command for hours, if for no other reason than to watch his eyes sparkle and two perfect dimples appear on either side of his perfect mouth.
Unfortunately, Washington had already written to John, reassuring him that he would be of better use in South Carolina. He would not be able to join Hamilton at Washington's camp. He would have to wait until after the imminent battle to see Hamilton again. He contented himself from day to day with Hamilton's letters, and with the law textbooks he had ordered for himself. Brushing up on the law gave a sense of realness to the plans that he and Hamilton had made for the end of the war.
"Colonel Laurens?" One of John's men poked his head into John's quarters. "You requested my presence?"
"Ah, yes. Mr. Davenport." John rose from his desk. He tried to think of matters at hand; matters which should have governed his thoughts. If he allowed himself to dwell on Hamilton for too long each day, he would be the death of his men. "Come in, please. Have a seat. Do you know if Mr. Crawford and Mr. Martin are on their way?"
"Mr. Crawford, sir?" Davenport appeared confused, as though he had never heard of the man in question. John knew this was not the case, as Davenport had gone through training with Crawford only a few weeks prior. "Oh, you mean Billy?"
Crawford was a black soldier - a free man in his own right who had decided to fight for a country he believed stood for freedom. Washington had only just allowed black soldiers to enter the militia with the same benefits and positions as white men. Getting the white men to respect their colleagues regardless of the color of their skin was a bigger obstacle than John had hoped that it would be.
"Yes, Mr. Billy Crawford." John's eyes narrowed.
"We just call him Billy." Davenport said with a shrug. "He don't seem to mind."
"I will address all of my soldiers with an equal amount of respect." John replied coolly. "I recommend that you do the same, if you have any aspiration of advancement in this country."
Crawford and Martin entered the room, sparing Davenport the uncomfortable obligation of replying to John's comment. John rose to his feet, a gesture of respect which he afforded all of his men. He had learned to behave in such a manner from Washington.
"Gentlemen. Please, have a seat." John lowered himself into his chair as Crawford and Martin seated themselves on either side of Davenport. "Thank you for reporting to me so quickly. I have been informed by General Washington that it is possible that we will be moving to our next camp within the next few weeks. He has warned me that we may receive little notice, and may need to travel quickly. I have therefore taken it upon myself to select men whom I believe will be able to assist me in the process of transport without any indiscretions which might alert the British to our movements, or cause panic among the camp. I believe you three fit the requirements nicely."
The three men looked at one another, each scrutinizing the other. Davenport and Martin overlooked Crawford quickly. They did not believe that he would be a threat to their advancement. John wondered if it had been a mistake to force his men to work together so soon after welcoming men like Crawford into his troops. Washington had been unable to give protocol or advice into the matter. Given that Washington was a rather substantial slaveholder, John did not know whether he would have heeded such advice, anyway.
"Thank you, sir." Crawford was the first to think to thank John for the advancement.
John nodded. He did not wish to acknowledge Crawford's gratitude too eagerly, for fear that he would sound arrogant. He did not wish to ignore it altogether, for fear of appearing icy.
"What shall we do first, sir?" Martin inquired.
"Take inventory of the items which will need to be transported - tents, food, my official correspondence, the horses...anything which you believe will be necessary for our war efforts at our next camp." John replied.
He could not help but wonder at the position he found himself in, ordering men to perform the same tasks which he performed only a few months prior. He felt as though he was still more qualified to handle simple tasks such as taking inventory, rather than commanding a large group of men. He missed the lack of responsibility he enjoyed while in Washington's camp. He did not like a group of men reliant upon him to stay alive. He wished for nothing so much as he wished for the war to end, so he might enjoy such mindless irresponsibility again.
"Yes, sir." All three men chorused, oblivious to John's discomfort with the position of a commanding officer.
As John watched them emerge from his office, he imagined Hamilton as a commanding officer. He knew that Hamilton would have been much better with his soldiers than John was. With a sigh, he pulled a blank piece of parchment from his desk drawer.
Dear Colonel Hamilton,
How are you? I, myself, am well.
John let out a sigh and ripped up the parchment. He tossed the pieces into his fireplace. He could not start a letter to Hamilton so pathetically. He ought to have congratulated Hamilton on achieving a command first. Hamilton would be expecting to hear praise from John. He seemed to expect to hear praise from everyone.
Dear Colonel Hamilton,
Congratulations on receiving your command! I am certain that you are much better suited for the responsibility than I am.
John let out an audible groan. He ripped up this failed attempt at a letter, too. The scraps chased the previous letter into the flames.
"Come on." John murmured to himself.
He had never had trouble writing to Hamilton before. Nothing had changed between them - John still loved Hamilton. He still wanted to tell him everything. However, after conversing with Hamilton about domestic matters such as the creation of a garden at his home, and the law firm that they would one day work at together, it felt impossible to returning to conversations about shortages and warfare.
Dear Colonel Hamilton,
I miss you. I wish this war was over. I do not want to fight. I want only to live the rest of my life by your side.
With one final noise of frustration, John ripped up the letter and sent it into the fire, following in the path of its ancestors.
He gave up on writing a letter to Hamilton. He would talk to Hamilton once the war was over.
Alexander Hamilton
Washington wanted to make a stand in the north - stage a battle in New York. The French, with General Rochambeau as their mouthpiece, argued that General Cornwallis had trapped himself along the Chesapeake Bay. Despite Washington's protests, the French owned a majority of the war funds and controlled the naval forces. They would trap Cornwallis where he was camped in Yorktown.
Lafayette was sent to the Chesapeake Bay with the French naval forces. He would corner Cornwallis once Washington had sprung his trap. Washington had given Alexander the distinct honor of being the first commander to lead men forward. They would be the ones to start the battle.
First, however, the groundwork needed to be laid.
Men worked around the clock to dig trenches around the perimeter of Cornwallis' camp. They worked at night, while the artillery shot guns, cannons, and a few fireworks in the direction of Cornwallis' camp. Shouts from the camp could be heard in the few pauses between the American onslaught. The shouts did nothing to curb the appetite of the American soldiers. If anything, it encouraged them. They dug the trenches with unreserved zeal. Alexander watched with pride as dirt flew out of the trenches and behind the lines.
"The trenches should be finished by daybreak." Lee told Washington as they observed the efforts.
Washington nodded his approval. "I hope their hard work is rewarded with a glorious battle."
Alexander observed the men for a moment. He focused on one man in particular - a man who appeared to be older than Washington. The man was struggling to keep up with the younger men. He was tired. He had been working for hours.
It seemed dishonorable for Alexander to be basking in his youth while watching the older man toil. Without a second thought, he slid off of his horse - which Washington had bought him as a gift following his promotion - and shed his jacket. He tied the horse's reins to a nearby branch and draped his jacket across the horse's saddle.
"Colonel Hamilton?" Washington inquired as Alexander left the invisible boundary between the officers and the men digging the trenches.
"I am wasting my youth watching others from atop a horse, General Washington." Alexander called over his shoulder. "I should like to earn my victory as much as any other man here!"
Washington chuckled. He looked around at the surrounding officers. They appeared equally amused by Alexander's boyish enthusiasm.
"Very well. Carry on, Colonel Hamilton." He approved.
Alexander tried to ignore the unmistakable affection laced within Washington's words.
Instead, he descended into the trench. There were shouts and calls of approval from the men surrounding Alexander. A few rough hands fell on his shoulder, giving him a small shake of approval. Alexander did not think of the dirt that would stain his new shirt. He tried to rise above such trivial matters, to better appeal to his men.
"Take a rest, sir." He said, approaching the old man whom he had been watching. "For tomorrow, we must fight another day. You have done excellent work on behalf of your country, and I thank you heartily for it."
"T-thank you, Colonel Hamilton." The old man stammered, his face flushed with excitement. He was missing most of his teeth. His face was ruddy from the exertion of digging. "Thank you, sir!"
Alexander nodded. He enjoyed being magnanimous.
"Why don't you return to your quarters?" He suggested. "Get a full night's sleep. I hope to see you report for work tomorrow feeling rested and able to defend your country."
"Yes, sir." The man agreed, scurrying out of the trench before Alexander could change his mind.
Alexander smiled to himself as he picked up the rudimentary shovel that the older man had flung down. He rolled up his sleeves, as the other man had done, and set to work shoveling.
"Unload the bullets from your guns." Alexander commanded his men quietly on the eve of the battle. "For not one stray gunshot must give us away."
There was a soft shuffling as each of the men under Alexander's command unloaded their guns.
"Now, we must crawl through the night into General Cornwallis' camp. When you hear my command - the code word will be 'Rochambeau' - you will commence the battle. Nod your heads to show me that my words have been heard and understood."
Alexander watched as each of his men bobbed their heads in agreement.
With his own self-assured nod, he led the crawl towards Cornwallis' camp. The night was silent, as it had been for the past few nights. There was nothing which would suggest that Cornwallis knew that the battle was upon him.
They crawled through the night. To Alexander's great pleasure, his men were perfectly silent as they moved. Not a single stray shot was heard. Not a single word was uttered. When it came time for him to give the awaited command, the British were perfectly unaware of the forces which were about to descend.
Alexander was the first to rush into the action. He jumped onto a parapet and launched himself upon the British. The soldiers scrambled for their guns and attempted to pierce Alexander with their bayonets - they caught his sleeve in the weapon and managed to tear away a piece of the fabric - but Alexander was faster than they were. He enjoyed the game - it felt more like dancing than killing.
After Alexander's troops came Lafayette's men. They pushed the back of Cornwallis' men while Alexander continued to fight the front. Occasionally, Alexander and Lafayette would cross paths. They would shout hearty encouragements to one another before proceeding with the task at hand.
By midday, a white flag was waved. General Cornwallis had surrendered.
Alexander commanded his men to stand back as Washington moved forward, crossing the battleground to meet with Cornwallis to negotiate the terms of surrender. Alexander was invited to join the other officers, lined up neatly to watch as Washington and Cornwallis spoke.
Washington smiled. That was when Alexander knew that the terms were good. Washington rarely smiled in the company of high-ranking men such as Cornwallis.
Once the negotiations were complete, Cornwallis led his men out of Yorktown. They marched in a neat line. The line must have spanned for miles and miles. Alexander had read that the estimated amount of soldiers under Cornwallis' command had been tens of thousands of men.
Washington oversaw the evacuation. Alexander and Lafayette sat atop their horses on either side of Washington. They were quiet for a spell, each of them enjoying the fruits of their labor. Alexander could see that Washington was pleased. It was a decisive victory - the sort of victory that could turn the tide of the war. Alexander hoped that news of Cornwallis' surrender would force George III's hand in releasing the colonies from his control.
"You were reckless today." Washington remarked after a few contented moments of silence. He looked over at Alexander. There was a playful glint to his eyes that let Alexander know that there was no malice in his words. "General Knox had to reassure me that I would not witness your untimely death this afternoon."
"I apologize if I frightened you, Your Excellency. I was hoping that my men would be encouraged by the sight of my own fighting. I believe if they had seen me cowering or hiding behind my subordinates, they would have been less likely to show courage, themselves." Alexander replied, his cheeks coloring slightly.
"There is a fine line between bravery and foolishness." Washington said, looking ahead at the retreating British troops. "In my youth, I was known to walk that line very closely. Now that you are a commander, Hamilton, you must learn to remain on the 'brave' side of the line. You are a good commander. I would like for you to live to fight another battle."
Alexander grinned. He had finally received the praise from Washington that he had always known he deserved.
"Yes, sir." He said.
"You must come to France when ze war is over, Monsieur Hamilton." Lafayette contributed from the other side of Washington. "You must help us win our freedom next."
"You may depend on it." Alexander chuckled.
He liked being the hero. He liked receiving praise from Washington, and Lafayette, and all of the men whom he had commanded. He found that being a commander suited him very well.
He only wished that John had been present to witness his triumph.
The British Empire surrendered the American colonies shortly after the Battle of Yorktown. The war was over.
When Alexander heard the news, he went out and celebrated with his men. He bought all of their drinks. He knew that, now that the war was over, he would make enough money to afford such expenditures. He would have his successful law firm, which would serve as a diving board for a career in politics. Alexander could already tell from the newspapers that Washington would be a prominent political figure. He could use Washington's influence to his advantage.
After the celebrating was done, Alexander penned a letter to John.
My Dearest Colonel Laurens,
The war has ended! Now you may return to me in New York. Now there will be nothing standing in the way of our happiness. Now you will be mine and I will be yours, forever.
Though we have the remainder of our life to talk of the war, I would relay the episode of Yorktown to you, which will forever be etched in my memory and my heart.
I was not only given a command of men - I was given the premiere command. I led the men in to spring the trap upon General Cornwallis. I came so close to Cornwallis that at one point, I believe I could see the whites of his eyes. I could not tell you how many men I engaged in the act of battle with. It may have been dozens. I believe that you would have been proud to see me. I would like few things as much as I would like the knowledge that you are proud of me. After I had sprung the trap that General Washington and General Rochambeau laid for the British, General Lafayette brought his men along the Chesapeake to thwart any retreat efforts that might have been employed. You should have seen the ferocity of the fighting. I am certain that Romans in the colosseum would have been afraid.
After midday had passed, the British surrendered. They waved a white flag, though it quickly grew smudged with the dirt and blood which seems ever present in battles. General Cornwallis was reluctant to negotiate with General Washington, wishing to inflict one last insult upon Washington's name before his own name was disgraced. As you might have expected, General Washington remained proud and unflappable in the face of such insult. He was ultimately invited to negotiate the terms of surrender.
Our terms, if you must know, were exceptional. The British were to leave the area, but they were to leave their weapons and ammunition with us. There must have been tons of bullets and thousands of guns. The soldiers threw their guns upon the pile with all of their might, in the hopes that their gun would break rather than fall into the hands of American soldiers. In the midst of our celebrations that night, we tested a fair amount of them. They do not appear worse for the wear.
As my previous line might have suggested, the celebrations following the battle were something which legends will be written about. I am certain that you have already guessed that General Lafayette was among those who celebrated the most vigorously. I must admit, I joined in the festivities. It was my first celebration as a commanding officer and I did not wish for my men to consider me too aloof. I would not be a second General Washington. I did think of you during the celebration. I did not overindulge myself, for fear that such conduct would be an embarrassment for you to hear about.
I am glad to have reached war's end. I have had my moment of glory which might land me in history books. Now, I long for nothing so much as a simple life with you. I long for days spent at our law firm, where we might argue over a case or two. I long for evenings in which we will host one another at supper, then take a walk about our gardens.
I long only for my future with you.
I love you.
Adieu.
Yours,
A. Hamilton
