For a book of this length and complexity, I have many people to thank.
My first thoughts go to Colonel Charles M. Adams, whom I met during my 1960s years at West Point, while I was writing a history of the military academy. It was Adams who helped me grasp the importance of strategy in a professional soldier’s thinking. Our discussions were supplemented in much briefer style by my conversations with several generals.
Equally helpful were historians who grasped the idea that George Washington was no mere figurehead. He was a thinker who changed the strategy of the war and a leader who had the equanimity to deal with the barrage of criticism that descended on him from men with little or no military insights, such as John Adams and Dr. Benjamin Rush. A good example of this new view is Edward G. Lengel, former director of the George Washington Papers and author of General George Washington: A Military Life.
I have also reached deep into my past and drawn on material on the war in New Jersey by Francis S. Ronalds, former director of Morristown National Historical Park. He generously gave me access to this research, which contained new insights into the British attempt to end the war after the surrender of Charleston in 1780. Equally important were my conversations with the late Don Higginbotham, biographer of Daniel Morgan and author of many other distinguished books, which gave me a new understanding of the importance of the battle of Cowpens. Another friend whose book played a major role in my thinking was Terry Golway, author of Washington’s General, a superb biography of Nathanael Greene.
I also remain indebted to several librarians. One is Gregory S. Gallagher, until recently the head librarian of the Century Association, whose research talents extended far beyond the relatively small library he managed with such skill and charm. Another is Lewis Daniels, head of the Westbrook, Connecticut, library. Once more he displayed his skill at obtaining rare books from distant libraries, enabling me to devote most of my summers to writing rather than travel. The staff of the venerable New York Society library, of which George Washington and Alexander Hamilton were once members, has also been invariably helpful and encouraging.
My deepest thanks go to my son, Richard Fleming, whose computer and research skills continue to grow and shed new light on topics such as the “Fabian” side of George Washington’s generalship. Also helpful was my daughter, Alice, former managing editor of St. Martin’s Press, in pursing obscure endnotes and otherwise advising me against repetitions and similar blemishes in the early drafts of the book. My wife, Alice, a gifted writer in her own right, performed a similar task, at times more drastic, in pointing out how much a supposedly “final” draft could be cut, adding new vitality to the narrative.
At least as important were the advice and encouragement of my editor at Da Capo Press, Robert Pigeon. My agent, Deborah Grosvenor, who brought us together, was also a frequently helpful presence. There are many others who have my thanks, confirming one of my favorite adages: No writer works alone. It only looks that way.