Becoming A Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Twenty-Two: May of 1778

The Battle of Monmouth happened near Monmouth courthouse, hence the name.

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The news spread through camp like wildfire. Everywhere you went, you could hear talk of the cowardly British and their inability to keep such the Capital. We didn't even have to fight, they said, those lobsters couldn't even stand their own ground.

To make things even better, our most recent skirmish with the British went surprisingly well. Unlike before, the men were in order and they knew how to use their weapons properly, thanks to von Steuben. I had once overheard his lecture, and I felt both impressed and disgusted. 

"These are knives on the ends of your bayonets," I can still hear Ben Walker translate as the Baron does a plunging motion with his own weapon. "You can use them to stab people. Preferably in the ribcage: you'll either pierce the heart of the lungs, which will render them useless."

Well, if it works, it works. And holy shit, did it work, and not only did the Baron implement military training, he had also reshaped the camp- there were more secure outhouses and strict rules that all soldiers had to follow. And, while punishments were quite brutal- no, Alexander unfortunately didn't elaborate on what that meant- the quality of life in camp became much better.

Needless to say, the spirits were quite high, which was quite the difference between the starving, disease-ridden winter. Our supplies had started coming in consistently again, making the daily rationing more generous for everyone. The bread seemed softer, the meat seemed to be less salted and Alexander commented that the rum was better, too. When he said that, I gave him my share of the alcohol.

"Are you sure, Solomon?" He asked after drinking all of his. Though he had drunk quite a bit, his head was still clear- that comes with getting a tolerance, I suppose. "The rum's quite nice these days."

"I don't drink," I answered, pushing the container to him. 

"I never realized that," He muttered before drinking half it in one gulp. "Then, shall I presume that Lafayette- when he was present- drank yours?"

"Aye." I laugh. "You'd never think that he's a heavy drinker, you know." Alex hums and finishes my drink with a sigh. 

"Well- good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used," He quotes someone, before standing up. "Or rum, I suppose. Now, sir, we have wasted enough time- I have to translate several letters, and I presume you also have work."

"Yep," I also stand up, stretching. "It never ends, does it?"

"Nay, especially after you barged into a meeting without permission. What were you thinking? You could have been hanged for insubordination, and what would I do then?"

I roll my eyes, hoping that he's overreacting. "I'm not having this discussion again, Alex, and what does that have to do with my workload?" We link arms as we start walking back to the tent. As I look at the sun, it's clear that our break is over. 

"General Lee has suddenly become quite fickle with the data you provide," he says, scoffing. "And I- as always- have to endure his immature antics."

"Alex, he's a general," I warn him quickly, looking around. "You'll be the one that's hung for insubordination."

"Fine. I have lost all respect for the man nonetheless," he grumbles out, though his voice does quieten. "The head of intelligence, Major Benjamin Tallmadge- I don't believe you have met- had informed me that Lee is exchanging letters with Reed that discuss the alleged failings of our commander."