From my window I see a large moon winking from behind the twisting and swaying black forms of treetops. The wind storm is dramatic, but so far hasn’t taken electricity. I’m sure the street and yard are littered with arboreal debris at this point.

This morning I read about the Battle of Brooklyn, summer of 1776. The account of Washington’s flight from New York made me wonder again and again how in the world Britain managed to lose the war. Was it hubris? Was it the French? (It was the French.) So many things went so wrong for America, the Continental Army faced seemingly impossible odds. Page after page detailed untrained, unfed, unmotivated soldiers, some resorting to using spears as weapons, many deserting every day, mass confusion, disease, drunkenness, incompetent officers, etc etc. There was no money to pay them, and enlistments were short and voluntary, meaning half the army could just go home when their time was up. Literally the only thing that kept us alive (besides the French), was the desire for liberty, and that was felt most passionately in people like George Washington.

I did enjoy this story from that summer: during a lull in the fighting, the two sides agreed to arrange for peace talks. A letter was written to Washington and delivered by a secretary. But the letter was addressed on the outside to “George Washington, Esq, etc etc.” Washington’s officers refused to accept the letter at all. The British were so arrogant that they wouldn’t recognize Washington’s rank as General and Commander in Chief — he was still considered a treasonous subject of the crown. This happened twice before they finally wrote his name with rank properly on the letter, “His Excellency, General Washington.” It was extremely important that he be addressed as the legitimate leader of the newly minted nation.