Free Washington's General by Terry Golway Page B

the Lord’s name in vain. This virginal general, his military record as yet devoid of combat, his experience of command limited to the employees of Nathanael Greene & Company, had read of the glories of military conquest but knew precious little about the raucous life of a common soldier in the field. In his orders on June 4, 1775, Greene told his officers to “Supress as much as [possible] all Debauchery and Vulgar Language Inconsistent with the Character of Soldiers.” Vulgar language? Inconsistent with the character of soldiers? The troops must have had a good laugh.
    Greene, however, saw his soldiers as the living symbols of American liberty. Their fellow citizens were likely to judge the righteousness of the cause by the righteousness of the troops, and Greene was determined to be righteous, indeed. But he had his hands full: the Rhode Island troops already had earned a reputation as first-class swearers. A soldier from Connecticut camped near the Rhode Island contingent in Roxbury wrote that his ears were “filled with the most shocking oaths . . . the tremendous name of the great God is taken at the most trifling occasions.”
    Some of the Rhode Islanders were equally enthusiastic drinkers. Oneof them, a soldier named Peter Young, was hauled before a court-martial after getting drunk. His superiors testified that Young behaved “in a very indecent and contemptuous manner, damning the man that confined him [and] throwing his hat about the guard-house.”
    All of this horrified Greene. He believed that the fledgling rebellion would succeed only if the American civilian population supported the soldiers fighting in their name. Debauchery and vulgar language were more than breaches of military discipline; potentially, they were public relations disasters. As the siege dragged on, Greene continued to keep a tight watch over the behavior of his troops.
    Meanwhile, as a sign of just how serious the standoff had become, three of Britain’s top generals, Henry Clinton, William Howe, and John Burgoyne, landed in Boston in late May. Impatient with General Gage’s conservative approach, they were determined to break the siege as quickly as possible. The very idea of American amateurs holding some eight thousand of His Majesty’s crack soldiers hostage was unthinkable! Burgoyne could hardly believe it. “Let us in,” he said of himself, Clinton, and Howe, “and we’ll soon make elbow room!”
    Late May and early June found Nathanael Greene shuttling between military drills in Roxbury and political consultations in Rhode Island. The colony’s Committee of Safety, which included Greene’s older brother Jacob, retained civilian control over the army and was given ambiguous authority over supplies. Appropriating money for gunpowder and blankets was one thing; getting them to the troops was quite another task, and an exasperated Greene complained that the legislature had devised “no mode of supply.”
    On June 2, as he prepared to leave Providence for Roxbury, Greene composed a note to Caty. He would have been happy, he wrote, if he “could have lived a private life in peace and plenty.” But, he said, “the injury done my Country . . . calls me [forth] to defend our common rights, and repel the bold invaders of the Sons of freedom. The cause is the cause of God and man.” Furthermore, he wrote, “[I am] determinedto defend my rights and maintain my freedom or sell my life in the attempt.”
    What Caty thought of her husband’s fervent patriotism is anybody’s guess, since her letters have not been preserved. But Nathanael’s pledge to “sell” his life for the good of his country surely frightened her. The peaceful little world of her aunt and uncle’s homestead and the splendid isolation of her childhood home on Block Island had left her unprepared for war and the prospect of becoming a general’s widow at the age