Valley Forge
Winter of 1778
Washington's Camp
**I've always been a Star Wars fan and the last four episodes of The Clone Wars has me feeling some type of way. I've left some dialogue Easter eggs. Enjoy!**
"A contingent of our forces are concentrated here, in the woods of northeastern section of Valley Forge. They will serve as a forward operating base and as an early warning in the event of any British incursions. This winter will be harsh, but we will survive. For if we fail, the tyranny of British yoke will once again be thrust upon the American people, and they will spend their remaining days in darkness and slavery."
General Washington looked at the faces of the officers standing before him; they were a sober lot. All of them had lost men under their command to engagements with the enemy, and all of them bore the scars of those engagements as well.
"It will be hard, so tell your men to strap on their boots and get to work. Tell them that the sacrifices they make here will be etched through blood into our glorious history. Reduce rations, maintain discipline, and we will emerge from this stronger, refined, and a terror to our foes."
With a nod and a final word, they were dismissed and released to their duties.
"General Arnold, stay a moment if you will."
The other officers looked at one another, their faces a perfect mask of cool detachment, as Benedict removed himself from the line of departing officers and ambled back towards his chair. Within a few moments, they were completely alone, staring at each other in silence for a few more seconds.
"You wanted to see me, your excellency."
The tone was suitably reverential for a subordinate addressing a superior, but Washington could detect the underlying traces of resentment bubbling beneath the surface. With a resigned sigh, he braced himself for the confrontation.
"It's been brought to my attention there have been some, shall we say, improprieties regarding your activities in Philadelphia. Especially regarding the Shippen household."
Washington observed Arnold stiffen at his remarks, but the other man made no comments.
"Look, Arnold, I don't enjoy this any more than you do, but the congress has been nagging me like a bunch of old women. They've threatened to stall war allotments unless I've come to a decision."
"Have you." The voice was cold and frigid as a December night.
Washington sighed and took to pacing around the room. This was all happening at the wrong time. Too many men had died, too many losses had been sustained, and disunity and rampant self-interest were in danger of destroying the fledgling republic. And to make matters worse, he had errant generals either actively suborning the war effort or, in this case, behaving indecently.
As Washington chewed on the issue, the more his ire grew, and the faster he paced.
"Damn you, man!"
"What?'
"I said damn you, man! We are engaged in a fight, a war of momentous proportions, and you think now! Now! Of all times! Is the time to go philandering as such? Or is the illegal seizure of private property not sufficient?"
It was improper for a superior officer to speak as such, but the frustration of it all had finally succeeded in wearing down his decorum.
"Have you nothing to say for yourself?"
Benedict was now shaking with either rage of the effort of not breaking with military form.
"Permission to speak freely."
"Granted."
It was as if a dam had broken suddenly and violently.
"You. Have. Always undermined me!" Benedict's diction became animated, and he was spraying spittle.
He threw his cane aside and crossed the difference between them so that they were standing face to face.
"I-" he jabbed a finger at his chest, "I secured the victory at Saratoga! Not Gates! We stand here amidst my achievement, not his!"
"If only saying it would make it so! I've read the reports, you disobeyed the orders of a superior and recklessly endangered the lives of your men. Of course, you were punished. What if all my officers acted in such a fashion? We wouldn't have an army left."
Arnold looked as if he had been struck.
"The British army was on the verge of overwhelming us. I took command of a group of American soldiers whom I led in an assault against the British line. It was my attack that threw the enemy into disarray, and it was my efforts that contributed greatly to the victory. All this while Gates was playing with himself in the rear!"
It was a battle of wills, and neither of them was willing to give ground first. They would've stayed that way, locked into their invisible struggle, if one of Washington's aides hadn't barged through the tent flaps.
"Sir!"
"What. Is it?"
The words were spat through tightly clenched teeth.
"Sir, FOB Sparrow reports enemy troop sightings and they are requesting permission disengage."
This brought both men out of their trance and to full alert. Washington snapped his head to look at the aide and then back at Arnold.
"Has this been confirmed?"
The adjutant looked to Washington for permission to address Major General Arnold.
"Sir we only have what the courier brought. We don't have the authority to send scouting parties without permission."
"Damn. They must've stumbled upon them by accident. What rubbish luck. Send the courier. Instruct FOB Sparrow to pack up it supplies and return to base."
"Belay that!"
General Washington's voice cut through the chatter, stopping everyone in their tracks.
"Let us think this through. What are the chances of British infantry finding a discreet camp in the middle of the woods, in the dead of winter? Furthermore, who in their right mind would send soldiers out in the winter to look for a needle in a haystack?"
As he spoke he moved around the tent, the physical action helping him gather his thoughts.
General Arnold's rebuttal was quick to come.
"This is hardly unheard of, Major Haddock has been doing this for almost a year. We need to act quickly if we are to bring our soldiers back so as to form a cohesive front. Isolated cells can and will be destroyed. We-"
Washington held up his hand to cut him off.
"No! No. Major Haddock has only ever sent hunter-killer teams out when he has actionable evidence of a target location. We know that, that means this team of Brits knew, knew before hand, where to find our operating base."
The words and their implication began slowly working its way through the officers assembled before him.
"The question at hand is, how did they know the location of our FOB?"
They all looked at one another, all of them pondering over the implications of the question. The answer was obvious, but no one wanted to give voice to it. General Arnold broke the silence.
"It means we have a spy."