For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Romans 8:18

As news of the Declaration spread, Patriots everywhere celebrated. Church bells rang while guns exploded and crowds cheered. An excited John Adams mailed two letters to his wife Abigail on the same day. In the first, he wrote, “It is the will of heaven that the two countries should be separated forever. It may be the will of heaven that America shall suffer calamities still more dreadful.”

The Declaration became official on July 4, when the President of the Congress, John Hancock, signed it. In his second letter, Adams predicted that the anniversary day of July 4 would become “the most memorable . . . in the history of America.” He went on to add, “I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory.”

The newborn nation now confronted her greatest challenge. She had to win her independence by resisting the greatest military power on earth. Would she be able to pass the test?

———

The celebration of America’s independence quickly died away. As soon as the Redcoats left Boston, Washington transported his troops to New York.

The nearby Hudson River was the gateway north. Washington knew the British would want to control it. That way they could split the New England colonies away from the others and crush the rebellion in the north. Then they could turn on the Southern colonies and defeat them. Washington was determined not to let this happen. He decided to stand and fight at the American-held town of Brooklyn on the western end of Long Island, across the East River from Manhattan.

On July 2, the same day the Declaration was passed, a huge British invasion force under General Howe landed at Staten Island, New York. By August 22, twenty thousand British and German troops were ready for battle on the southeast shore of Brooklyn. Facing them were barely eight thousand Americans under Washington. Five days later, the British had almost surrounded the Americans. Howe ordered an attack on August 27.

Washington watched the battle through his field telescope. By afternoon, the Americans were trapped, backed up against the East River with the whole British army in front of them. They waited for the final British assault. They waited and waited and waited. Yet, amazingly, Howe did not attack!

The next morning, the British still had not moved. On the day after that the Americans continued to wait while the British guns remained silent. In the late afternoon, a cold rain began to fall.

By now, Washington had a plan. “This is giving us valuable time,” he told his senior officers. “We might be able to do it.”

“Do what, sir?” a brigadier-general asked.

“Move the troops across the East River,” he replied. “This northeast wind will stop Howe’s fleet from sailing up the river and cutting off our escape. We’ll ferry our men across by boat and join our forces on Manhattan.”

“But sir, it’s a full mile across the river!” another general pointed out. “We have eight thousand troops to carry, and mostly small boats. I don’t think we can do it. I say we should stay and fight.”

“No,” said the general. Washington had made up his mind.

At first, the Americans battled choppy waters in the storm. But after midnight, the wind died away and the oarsmen guided the small boats through the still waters. One by one, each regiment of soldiers came down to the beach and waited in line to be taken across the river. Washington stationed a few regiments of troops at the front lines so the British would not suspect anything.

As the dawn approached on August 30 the Americans were worried. They knew that as soon as it got light enough for the British to see, the troops still left on the Brooklyn shore would be captured.

Suddenly, just as the light rose, a heavy fog began to rise from the ground and off the water. The American troops could barely see one another. But the British couldn’t see them either! The Patriots kept on ferrying men across the river. The fog remained until the last boat had left the Brooklyn shore, carrying General Washington. Then it lifted. The British rushed to the shore and started firing at the boat, but the Americans were just out of range. It was a miracle! Eight thousand American soldiers had safely escaped over to Manhattan. God’s favor was clearly upon the Patriots.

Once again, Howe waited before crossing to Manhattan, just as he had done at Bunker Hill. Washington withdrew the outnumbered Continental Army from Manhattan and began a long retreat through the length of New Jersey. He had a habit of advancing to fight little engagements at the edges of the British army, but then retreating to avoid fighting major battles that he couldn’t win. This earned General Washington much respect from his enemy. They began to refer to him as a “cunning fox.”

But as the end of the year approached, spirits in the Continental Army were low. Many of the men’s time of enlistment would be up on December 31. If Washington was going to do something bold, he had to do it before then. The general decided to attack Trenton.

“We’ll attack at dawn on December 26,” he told his officers. “The German soldiers there won’t be expecting anyone the day after Christmas.”

As Washington’s troops loaded into small boats, a violent snow and hailstorm suddenly came up. Once again, the Continentals had the aid of their strongest Ally. The blinding storm prevented the Hessian guards from detecting anything. The surprise was complete. In forty-five minutes of combat, the Americans took a thousand German prisoners.

British General Charles Cornwallis, who had been put in charge of the British operations in New Jersey, immediately marched troops to Trenton.

“Sir, you must attack at once!” his officers pleaded.

“I can bag the fox in the morning,” Cornwallis replied with confidence.

“Sir, if you trust those people tonight,” his quartermaster general warned, “you’ll see nothing of them in the morning.”

The quartermaster was right. In the dead of night, the Continentals stole away, right past Cornwallis’s troops. At Princeton, they drove back a support column on its way to join Cornwallis. In this battle Washington reined in his horse just thirty yards in front of the British lines and yet wasn’t hit when they fired a volley at the American troops behind him!

This victory, following the one at Trenton, caused Americans everywhere to rally in support of their general and the army. Many new volunteers answered the call to arms.

But that winter would bring a terrible time of testing for the Continental Army.

———

The general sat on his horse and watched the soldiers shuffle through the falling snow. They were tired and cold. Some had no coats. Others had no boots. Some men with bare feet left bloody footprints in the snow. The general grieved for his men and for his country. They had just lost Philadelphia, the capital of their government, to the British. Liberty and independence now seemed like hollow words.

It was December 1777. The soldiers were headed toward Valley Forge, fifteen miles from Philadelphia. Washington had chosen this place as their winter camp.

December was cold, and January brought both snow and rain. The soldiers built log huts, but it was impossible to stay warm. They did not have enough to wear, and the huts were drafty. Congress had promised to send clothing and food but had sent paper money instead. The countryside had been stripped of provisions, and the local farmers weren’t willing to sell the food they did have to the army in exchange for the paper money. Washington and his men were frustrated.

And they were hungry. Most meals consisted of nothing more than “firecake”—wheat or cornmeal mixed with water and baked over the fire. Sometimes a supply wagon with salt pork or dried fish got through enemy lines. But this was not often. Most of the time, the men remained hungry. By February, they were down to their last twenty-five barrels of flour. Many men were dying of fevers and the flu.

Valley Forge was a terrible time for the American army. In the 1600s the Pilgrims and Puritans had faced their starving times. Their grandchildren had suffered the horrors of Indian uprisings. Now Valley Forge was the dark night in the young nation’s soul. The enemy slept in warm quarters in Philadelphia. They were eating good food. The Americans were freezing and dying. At Valley Forge, the soldiers had to decide whether to give up their quest for freedom. They had to decide if it was worth the cost to stay with the army and keep on fighting.

Their general believed that it was. He knew God would somehow deliver them. But the soldiers had to believe it too. God used the sufferings of Valley Forge to make the Continental Army as tough as steel.

Just as God had sent Squanto to the Pilgrims, He now sent a special agent to the Continental Army. Friedrich Wilhelm Augustus, Baron von Steuben was a captain from the Prussian army. Washington assigned von Steuben the task of making the men into a professional army.

“No, no!” von Steuben yelled in German, with an English interpreter at his side. “That’s not it. You’ve got to load and fire those muskets together.” The men tried again. “That’s more like it. I want a volley every fifteen seconds.”

“No one is going to desert this army,” the captain barked. “You’re going to stay and learn how to fight. I’m going to make real soldiers out of you. And you’re going to beat those Redcoats!”

Captain von Steuben was a demanding drillmaster. He made the soldiers practice until they got it right. As March turned into April, the soldiers’ morale greatly improved. They marched as one. They drilled as one. They could even produce a volley every fifteen seconds.

On the first of May 1778, General Washington received news that France was coming into the war on the side of America. The dark night was over. The French were allies! With that news, the volunteers and supplies began pouring in from all over the country. Washington declared a day of thanksgiving.

That spring, General Henry Clinton replaced Lord Howe as overall commander of the British forces. On June 18, Clinton pulled the Redcoats out of Philadelphia for New York. And the Continental Army swung out of Valley Forge right behind him.

But this was a different army from the one that had trudged down the road six months before. Now there was a sharpness to the beat of the field drums. There was pride in each step. The American Patriots were a real army now.

They caught up with the British at Monmouth, New Jersey. When one of the American field commanders mistakenly ordered a retreat, Washington spurred to the front of the army to rescue it from disaster. Back and forth he rode, urging the men to form ranks again and giving them an example with his quiet courage. No man could look at him that day and not take heart. The Patriots stopped, turned, and fought the British to a standstill.

Monmouth marked the last time the two main bodies of the British and American armies would be within striking distance. For the next two years, the action involved only smaller units.

Since the British had not been successful in the north, they looked toward the south. But by 1781, even this southern campaign was not going well. One of the main reasons was the perseverance of the rebel soldiers. As the Patriot General Nathanael Greene put it, “We fight, get beat, rise and fight again!” If the Americans could not win by numbers or ammunition, they would win by sheer will power.

And the help of God.

After General Daniel Morgan’s victory over the British in the Battle of Cowpens in January 1781, he was forced to flee north from Lord Cornwallis’s huge pursuing army. If he and his men could get across South Carolina and North Carolina and into friendly Patriot territory in Virginia, they would be safe. But they had to cross three major rivers swollen by the winter rains. And there were no bridges.

When Morgan’s men reached the Catawba River, the British were just two hours behind them. Morgan got his men across just before a sudden rainstorm raised the water level so high that the British were delayed for two days before they could wade across.

The hand of God was even more obvious at the Yadkin River. When the British got there they could plainly see Morgan’s men marching away on the other side of the river. But in the few hours between the Patriots’ crossing and Cornwallis’s arrival, the water level had risen so high that the British couldn’t wade across!

Morgan’s men kept ahead of the British. Finally they were ferried across the Dan River into friendly Virginia on February 14 in local farmers’ rowboats. When Cornwallis’s army reached the Dan there were no boats for his army—they were all on the opposite bank!

The British began to be worn down by the Patriots’ determination to keep on fighting until they prevailed. The climax finally came in October of 1781 at Yorktown, Virginia. Cornwallis had ended up letting his army be surrounded by Washington’s combined force of French and American troops. He wasn’t worried, for he had arranged for a British fleet from the north to come and take his army back to New York.

However, a French fleet prevented the British navy from being able to reach them. Now he was trapped.

On the night of October 16, Cornwallis attempted to get out of the trap by ferrying his men across the York River under cover of darkness. But a sudden, violent storm of wind and rain came up from nowhere. By the time the storm ended, it was close to dawn. It was too late. Cornwallis raised the white flag of surrender before noon.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the sunny afternoon of October 18. In an open field behind Yorktown, the American and French forces formed two lines. The French were dressed in fresh uniforms and new, black-leather leggings. The Americans wore buckskins, homespun shirts, and faded blue-and-white coats known as “continentals.”

In the distance came the sound of British marching drums. The officers appeared first on horseback. Then came the soldiers. Some were angry. Some were weeping. The Americans stood straight and tall, watching in silence. “Ground muskets!” each British officer commanded. The soldiers flung their rifles to the ground one by one.

General Cornwallis could not bring himself to turn over his sword in person. He sent a deputy to do it. Washington assigned one of his deputies to accept the sword. When the surrender was finally finished, the American soldiers shouted for joy. It was over. America had won!

The British signed the Treaty of Paris on September 3, 1783. This treaty recognized the independence of the United States. The last British troops left New York in November.

———

The senior officers of the Continental Army gathered at Fraunce’s Tavern in lower Manhattan for the farewell luncheon.

“With a heart full of gratitude,” General Washington began, “I now take leave of you.” His voice cracked as he tried to control his emotions. “Our past days have been filled with glory and honor. I hope your future days will be the same.” Washington raised his glass in a toast to his officers.

Then he said, “I would be honored if you would come and take me by the hand.”

Henry Knox walked forward. With tears in their eyes, the two men shook hands and embraced each other. One by one, the remaining officers did the same. No one said a word. Nothing needed to be said. These men had fought together and won the independence of their country.

One more duty remained for the General of the Continental Army. He had to resign his commission. He journeyed to Annapolis, Maryland, to appear before Congress.

“Sir, we’re prepared to receive your communications,” the President of the Congress said.

General Washington rose and bowed to the members. Then he congratulated Congress and listed the names of the officers who had been especially faithful in their service to him.

Washington held his speech with trembling hands.

“As my last official duty, I want to commend the interests of our dear country to the protection of Almighty God,” Washington said. “I now take my leave.”

Washington pulled his commission from the breast pocket inside his uniform coat and handed it to the President of the Congress.

At last he could return home to his beloved Mount Vernon.