The Soldier Baron
The good Baron found time to prepare a new code of discipline and tactics... and this excellent manual held its place, long after the death of its author, as the Blue Book of our Army.
John Fiske
While the ragged Patriot Army with Washington starved, froze, and suffered at Valley Forge, there was speeding down from Boston on a fast saddle-horse, a man who was to help them win the war.
His keen hazel eyes looked pleasantly out from under bushy brows. His mouth smiled with good cheer; but he held his head in military fashion. The glittering star of a foreign Order was on his breast, and he carried a letter of recommendation from Benjamin Franklin to George Washington, Commander-in-Chief of the American Army.
He was Baron Steuben, a famous soldier and German hero of the Seven Years’ War. He had offered his services to Washington to train the Army, explaining that he wished to deserve the title of a citizen of America, by fighting for her Liberty.
At his side rode his young and waggish French interpreter in scarlet regimentals faced with blue. His bright eyes were always on the watch for a glimpse of pretty American maidens. Behind the two came their servants with the baggage.
It began to snow heavily. Night fell. They drew rein at an inn. It had a bad name; and it was kept by a Tory.
“I’ve no beds, bread, meat, drink, milk, or eggs for you,” said the sullen Tory landlord.
And neither Steuben’s remonstrances nor oaths could make him change his mind.
Steuben’s blood began to boil. “Bring me my pistol!” he cried in German to his servant.
And the landlord, who was smiling maliciously, suddenly felt a pistol pressed against his breast.
“Can you give us beds?” shouted Steuben.
“Yes!” cried the affrighted man.
“Bread?”
“Yes!”
“Meat—drink—milk—eggs?”
“Yes!—yes!—yes!—yes!”
And the trembling landlord scurried around. The table was quickly laid, and food set out. Then after a substantial supper, a comfortable night and a hearty breakfast, the Baron and his men mounted and were off again.
To cut the story short, he was soon at Valley Forge, serving with Washington, and training the troops. They had had little expert military training before. The Baron drilled the soldiers himself. He took a musket in hand and showed them how to advance, retreat, or charge without falling into disorder.
Not only the soldiers, but the generals, colonels, and captains, watched him eagerly and with enthusiasm. Soon the camp was a bustling military training school. The men almost forgot their sufferings, so intent they were on learning. They worked incessantly and with tremendous energy.
But the Baron made it lively for them, for he had a quick temper. He swore at them in three languages; and, when they did not understand that, he called his aide to help him out in English.
Some of the men had thrown away their bayonets, and some had used them for roasting meat. But the Baron soon drilled them to use bayonets with such good effect that when later a column of them stormed Stony Point they took it in a bayonet charge.
He—the bluff Steuben—never failed in bravery on the battle-field. At Monmouth, while the American troops were fleeing in panic, the Baron kept doggedly on with his face to the foe. Meanwhile, Washington, furious and fiery, rallied the soldiers and led them back to victory. “It was now,” says John Fiske, “that the admirable results of Steuben’s teaching were to be seen. The retreating soldiers immediately wheeled and formed under fire, with as much coolness and precision as they could have shown on parade.”
Bluff, generous, kindly, old Steuben still served the Country after peace and Independence came. Then he settled down on his farm of sixteen thousand acres, the gift to him from the State of New York, in recognition of his patriotic services. “Throughout the war,” says John Fiske, “Steuben proved no less faithful than capable. He came to feel a genuine love for his adopted Country.”