Chapter Text
November 1776
‘Tis not in numbers, but in unity, that our great strength lies; yet our present numbers are sufficient to repel the force of all the world.
Common Sense, Thomas Paine
The scent of a new dawn had long hung in the air like a thick, heavy cloud, the wind had swept through the streets and taken everything old with it. The colonists knew the revolution would come on 16th December 1773[1]- and what a revolution it would be, there had never been anything like it.
A revolution for the politician giving impassioned speeches in the Virginian House of Delegates[2], for the common man with grand visions; visions grander than were allotted to him in a monarchy.
The war would come, the colonists knew that on 19th April 1775[3]- and what a war it would be. It started with a shot heard round the world.
War for the civilian population and likewise for the soldier, regardless whether he was of English, Colonial, or Hessian extraction.
Their government had committed treason against the Crown, the Colonists knew that on 4th July 1776[4]- and what great treason it was, the signatures of 56 men on a piece of parchment.
For the royalist holding true to his king and for the British soldier now under attack from men he once called his brothers, it was treason.
For some, this dawn of a new era meant all three of these things at once. Friedrich Deegen had betrayed his family, had put everything behind him and was on the verge of joining the war by enlisting in the Continental troops. Despite having made this decision freely, he was scared at seeing how quickly not only his life, but the world around him as well, had changed.
Late autumn proved comparatively mild in Philadelphia that year, but when the sun had set, it grew increasingly cooler and ever fewer people could be observed in the streets.
Friedrich Deegen turned up his collar against the inexorable November wind. A worried glance to the sky bespoke a coming rainfall either later in the evening or in the night. The November rain was cold and heavy, but all things considered welcome as it washed the tang of waste, unwashed bodies and rotting fish from the air. The cobblestones under his feet were cracked and felt rather uncomfortable through the worn-out soles of his shoes. An icy shudder ran down his back and his entire body was tense when he turned into Fourth & Market Street.[5] Friedrich had lived and studied in Philadelphia for the past four years but had to admit to himself that he was not particularly familiar with this part of town.
He had visited the Society of Friends’, the Quakers’[6], parish hall in Chestnut Street5 between Third and Fourth Street5 once, this visit had however not been very long despite the friendly welcome he had received. He had attended a typical Quaker ceremony and afterwards talked to one or two others who had been present, but those had not been the kind of intimate or profound conversations as he had had them in his home parish, which had to be expected because even after a four-year sojourn, he would not call Philadelphia his home and he had not visited the parish hall often enough to make any close acquaintances.
As was the case in many other cities as well, the Philadelphia Quakers -especially the Philadelphia Quakers- were torn about the subject matter of the War of Independence. Those advocating for strict pacifism were confronted with those who called themselves Free Quakers[7] and who saw it as their duty to act. Friedrich belonged to the latter group, just like the seamstress Elizabeth “Betsy” Ross[8], who lived close by on the corner of Second and Arch Street. Indeed, Friedrich had never been to her house or chanced to meet her otherwise, but he had read the article in the Gazette describing the flag of the United States of America she had sewn. Perhaps the article had even contributed to his decision to join.
At the very end of the street where Fourth and Chestnut Street5 converged near Market Street5 was a small establishment by the name of The Indian Queen Tavern[9]. Friedrich was not the kind to frequent any taverns- prior to their graduation, many of his fellow students had passed the evenings in questionable inns with equally questionable girls. Friedrich had never accompanied them, yet could tell from a relative distance already that The Indian Queen possessed a fundamentally more decent taproom. The three-storey house had a well-kept wooden façade with a sizeable window each on the first and second floor. The lower window just above the door leading to the cellar was embedded in the façade and closed with shutters.
Adjacent to the main building was a low wooden shed and on a bench nearby sat two men whose clothes gave them away as sailors. A nearby tailor’s shop exhibited two silk gowns cut according to the fashions of the English court in its window. Friedrich tilted his head as his gaze trailed over the gowns. A thought had come to haunt his mind, but he pushed it aside as quickly as it had assailed him.
He opened the door to the tavern with a self-affirming nod. Upon entering, he noticed a tin plaque stating the taproom was licensed to serve wine and grog as well as beer and must.[10]
Inside, it was comfortably warm thanks to a lively fire burning in the sizeable fireplace and although the tobacco smoke hung heavily in the air, the room was quite bright due to the light falling through the large window, awarding it an air of greater spaciousness than it likely possessed.
On the western wall was the bar; long and made of solid wood, it was fronted by a couple of upholstered chairs. Opposite, a stone fireplace nestled against the partition wall separating the main room and the staircase lading to the lodgers’ rooms on the second and third floor. The remaining furniture consisted of small groups of chairs ringing several tables.
Behind the bar stood a man in his late thirties clad in a coat and waistcoat[11], brooding over his account books. When Friedrich entered, he looked up and met his gaze. His icy blue eyes caused Friedrich to shudder.
“What can I do for you, sir. In case you wish to rent a room, we are sadly fully occupied”, he declared monotonously and closed the book in front of him. Shrugging, Friedrich stepped forward and pulled a copy of the Pennsylvania Gazette[12] from his coat pocket, placed it on the counter and pointed to one of the numerous advertisements on the front page. “I am looking for a certain Colonel Hausegger[13]. It says in the advertisement that he lodges and can be met here.”
The man gave him a half-hearted smile, a gesture that appeared to Friedrich more scornful than benevolent, and pointed to a group of men at the very back of the tavern half-concealed by the fireplace and added: “There at the back, those are Hausegger and his men.”
Friedrich thanked the man with a brief nod no more or less uncourteous than the man’s before, put the paper back into his pocket and approached the group. His heart seemed to beat faster with every step, considerable restlessness flooded his body, and his feet felt as if they had leaden weights attached to them. This was not the life he had thought he would lead one day. This was entirely new territory; every step led him towards an uncertain, unwanted future.
As he reached the table, Friedrich took a brisk and somewhat clumsy bow in front of the three men who had crowded around the table drinking a hard-earned pint after a day’s work. He did not know any of them, could not tell who Hausegger was and who merely a subordinate. They were all clad in coats of dark blue wool- the uniform of the Continental Army, which showed just how safe they felt in Philadelphia. In addition to their coats, they wore colourful cockades[14] on their hats that Friedrich failed to associate with any distinct rank.
All of a sudden, he was not quite so sure anymore that his life should take this particular turn.
Before however he had any choice to make up his mind and turn around, the men had already taken notice of him and mustered him with questioning gazes. The throat of the young man began to tighten and only with considerable effort could he keep his hand from trembling as he produced the paper and put it on the table. He had to gather considerable composure a second time to speak calmly, and collectedly.
“Gentlemen, I have read the advertisement in the Gazette and would like to join the German Regiment[15].”
He could feel how the men looked him over with scrutinising glances. For one brief moment he thought his heart would burst in his chest and raw fear seemed to wrap its cold clutches around his intestines; he wanted nothing more but to scream.
“Well, boy, our ranks are full. Eight regiments with ninety[16] hand-picked men each, we have no use for you. Go home!”, one of the officers declared. Later, Friedrich learned that the man’s name was Lieutenant-Colonel George Stricker[17]. He also knew that giving up was out of the question, no more and especially not now when he was being rejected by means of such a cheap excuse. Friedrich’s stubbornness awoke.
“I am a doctor. I studied medicine at the Perelman School of Medicine[18] at the University of Pennsylvania”, he added. Uneasily, the young man shifted his weight from one foot to the other when yet another derogatory glare roved over him. He knew his advantages, he was tall and had healthy front teeth[19], yet was also aware of his shortcomings; he was slight and pale, almost unhealthily so.
The man who had mustered him critically until a moment ago (Friedrich would later come to know him as Major Ludowick Weltner[20]), lifted his head and squinted when he addressed him: “Hear, hear, he claims to be a doctor! You look rather green behind the ears to me- say, when exactly did you graduate?”
“Ten days ago.”
The major burst into shameless laughter and in his amusement hit the table with his palm so forcefully the crockery on it clattered. The aforementioned Lieutenant-Colonel George Stricker joined him, albeit with some more reserve.
Friedrich felt how his face grew hot and the blood started to rush to his ears. Whether the rubicundity of his cheeks originated from either embarrassment or anger, he could not tell. It was degrading enough to suffer them calling him a “boy”, but he needn’t tolerate being laughed at.
“I was not aware the Continental Army is in such a splendid condition to permit itself to reject and laugh at learned men who wish to join”, Friedrich countered, taking care to lay as much sharpness into his tone as was possible without sounding openly disrespectful.
The men, however, grew silent and Weltner in particular, in whose general direction Friedrich had addressed his words, glared at him exasperatedly, with his eyes squinted even more narrowly than before. The captain was about to retort when the man next to him, who had until then not spoken a single word, lifted his hand, silencing him immediately.
“Leave him be, Weltner, I like this man. He has courage and besides is by all means not in the wrong”, the stranger declared in a pronounced Swiss accent Friedrich couldn’t help but make note of and continued: “Our regiment will, as you must surely know (you would hardly have sought us out otherwise) be enlarged by another, ninth company[21], where you can do your duty as a soldier or doctor with the regimental staff, if this is what you wish, Mister…”
“Deegen.”
“Well then, Mister Deegen, it looks like I shall be your new commander from now on, Colonel Hausegger.”
Upon uttering those last words, Hausegger had risen from his seat and now stood at his full height facing Friedrich, who in turn straightened his back to appear as upright and soldierly as possible.
A faint smile took possession of his lips as he exhaled shakily. So he had become a soldier now.
20. Dezember, 1776
These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.
The American Crisis, Thomas Paine
The small room was utterly silent, too silent to be precise. The uncommon quietude was only interrupted by the occasional turning of a page and the scratching of a feather across paper. Friedrich shifted nervously in his chair, he did not like the leaden heaviness that accompanied the silence; especially not in a house that was used as a hospital.[22]
“Please, I cannot bear the silence any longer”, Eberhard Michael[23], the paymaster, finally said as he closed his books. An affirmative gasp of relief spread among the group of men sitting around their table at the headquarters. They were all rather strained and suffered from the silence, but Michael had been the first to dare and break it.
“Finally- and I thought we’d be sitting here in total silence for the whole night”, erupted Henry Mueller[24], the regimental chaplain.
“As it seems to appear a topic for conversation is required: our rations were cut yet again”, blazoned quartermaster Jacob Raybold[25] and leaned back in his chair.
“How so? You can’t cut anything that doesn’t exist”[26], Michael huffed, prompting the other men to join in a unanimous reaction of low murmurs and nods.
Friedrich had not been a part of the ranks of the Continental Army for two months yet, but could already bear testimony to how badly the Cause of American independence was faring.
The year had begun on a hopeful note; at the beginning of January, an anonymous pamphlet had come into circulation and soon thereafter everywhere in the length and breadth of the country, people talked about “Common Sense”, it was being quoted in churches and discussed in taverns. In the first three months following its publication the pamphlet had been sold more than 120,000 times. “Common Sense” had lighted the fuse that led to the hearts of the colonists. At the turning of the seasons, the British had been beaten in a sea-battles.[27] They, these Thirteen Colonies an ocean away from the European epicentre of power governing them, had beaten the most powerful naval force!
When the Continental Congress had ratified the Declaration of Independence, the luck of the Colonists, citizens of the United States of America, appeared to be perfect. Their treason had been perfected- Washington had ordered the Declaration to be read to the army.
But the sky above the American Cause did not remain cloudless for long.
The British beat George Washington and his army at the battles of Long Island and White Plains, took New York and likewise the Forts Washington and Lee in November. The Continental Army could do nothing more except to retreat further and further, since the beginning of December they were encamped here on the western bank of the Delaware in Pennsylvania. The news that Congress had left Philadelphia fearing for their safety proved equally detrimental to the morale of the troops as the shortage of food and lack of winter clothing- clothing of any kind, to be honest.
And amidst this chaos stood Friedrich, trying to get by some way or other. He had barely had time to grow accustomed to military life and become a part of the more or less working apparatus when they had been forced to retreat- they had fled, but nobody was willing to admit to that.
The Pennsylvanian winters were long, hard and cold. Friedrich was used to the ice and snow as he had spent his childhood and youth there. What was unwonted however was not to spend the cold season in a house with a large stove, but out here in the forests, in tents and barns. Friedrich pitied the comrades who hailed from the more southern states- seeing as he, who was accustomed to this rough climate, was cold already, how greatly were those men from the south suffering, where the climate was considerably more clement?
The coldness made brothers of men when they huddled close together in the beds at night in order to combat the cold. When Friedrich had lost his family, had pushed them away from him because of his own terribly large egoism, the fear of forever remaining alone had grown in him, to forever never quite belong. But here in his regiment, he had found a new family among the members of staff, none of blood, but of the mind.
“How does Congress propose to conscript those men anew whose service is to conclude at the end of the year? How do they intend to conscript anyone at all under these conditions?”, Mueller asked and rose slowly from his chair. He went to the hearth, over which a pot was suspended; they had tried to cook a soup from their meagre rations, but it was little more than hot water with a few scraps of jerked beef and any piece of vegetation apt to be boiled in a soup. As the chaplain slowly stirred the cast-iron pot, Raybold began to speak: “If our Congress would only exude greater authority, if the states would quarrel less amongst another, we could have an equally strong army as the Hessians.”
“The Hessians? The Hessian counts entertain their large, standing armies on account of their geo-strategic location, you cannot compare them with America”, Michael objected.
“Of course you can! With an army like that we could have defended ourselves against the French in the Seven Years War[28]. Because the British thought us incapable of doing so, rightly so in my opinion considering that we have the French lurking in the north, the indigenous peoples to the west, the Spanish in the south and our extensive coastline in the east is equally vulnerable, they sent troops to defend the colonies. They wanted reimbursement of the debts thusly accrued by transferring them onto us through taxation. Let us be honest with another, even though the end of this conflict is still written in the stars, economical interests lay at its root”, Friedrich offered. His decision to join the Continental army had ripened slowly and accordingly, he had had enough time to give some thought to the deplorability of many a course of action.
“Deegen is right, one needs only to look at the motives of many of those self-proclaimed ‘patriots’ in the Continental Congress. That aside, I do not approve of doing business with the Hessian Landgrave”, Mueller affirmed and added: “That is the disadvantage of the Hessian System. To keep the required number of men, they press men into service, even the priests help them by pressing their confirmands. A shame is what this is. The Landgrave may hide behind a canton system, but let us be honest with another for one moment, this is a form of impressment, nobody can convince me otherwise. And when-“
“And when they have reached a certain strength, they require to let soldiers to finance it all, which in turn is nothing more than-“
“Slavery”, Friedrich closed the sentence.
“What was it again this Landgrave had said. Only recently, everyone spoke of it- these troops are our Peru. In losing them we would forfeit all our resources”, Michael quoted[29].
“Ha! I don’t know what delusions these Hessians suffer from, but their troops are not comparable with Peru. In Peru, it is hot, but we here are freezing our arses off, the Hessians, too… And what’s more, there are women in Peru- attractive women”, Raybold interjected with an unmistakeable tone to his words.
Communal laughter erupted and even Chaplain Mueller, who had rolled his eyes at this puerility, could not suppress a broad grin. Only mere months ago Friedrich would not have felt at ease in such company, would have blushed at the jokes and declared the men’s behaviour fatuous and immature – the war, however, put many things into perspective.
Friedrich would have called his fellow students and their drinking companions fatuous, but he had come to know these men well enough to know that they were not being fatuous at all, that those boyish jests provided an outlet for them. They were attempts to generate some laughter at the end of a long day, even if they had seen nothing but misery during that day. They were attempts to not think about the possibility of dying the next day, and dying without ever seeing wife and children, mother and father, again.
Thus, the men continued to jest for a bit, exchanged stories from home that were half-true at best and began to prepare their supper when suddenly, the door was pushed open, allowing a bitter cold gust of wind to sweep through the room.
A man of middling age entered. His name was Ludwick Wurtenberger[30] and served as regimental surgeon. Friedrich was Wurtenberger’s subordinate and assistant and had nothing but the highest respect for the older man[31].
During these past hours, snow must have started to fall, because snowflakes showed distinctly against the doctor’s dark hair. The door closed behind him and with a sombre mien, he turned to Mueller, who still stood close to the fire.
“Your services are required in the barn, Chaplain.”
Friedrich felt a heavy lump in his throat forming. He observed how Mueller grabbed hastily for his coat and left the house, following the path to the nearby barn and Wurtenberger in turn removed his own coat to join them at the table. The until so very recently jocund atmosphere was blighted within an instant.
“Meyer or Hansen?”, Friedrich asked and chewed on the inside of his cheek, a bad habit that only came to the fore when he found himself in a particularly tense situation.
“Meyer”, Wurtenberger replied and received a bowl of soup thrusted into his hands with a thankful nod; somehow, someone had even managed to conjure up half a loaf of bread, which was speedily divided among all present. Friedrich barely noticed someone placed the soup right in front of him on the table, his gaze had trailed off into the distance and his breath could hardly be controlled. A few minutes passed in which his comrades ate and exchanged some vacuities, most of them idle gossip, while Friedrich only sat there, silent and staring into the steam rising from the bowls.
He felt helpless, so utterly, utterly helpless whenever he was forced to see how friends and comrades died for nothing. They did not die from British musket balls or Hessian bayonets, they died from the cold, sickness, and lack of even the most basic supplies. Private Meyer was a boy of just sixteen. In theory, one had to be seventeen at minimum to be allowed to join the army, but many boys had pretended to be older than they actually were and many recruiting officers, if they had noticed, had not objected. Friedrich had not joined to bear witness to all this misery.
All of a sudden, he felt a hand resting on his shoulder. “Don’t take it to heart my boy, we have done our best”, Wurtenberger attempted to cheer his young colleague up. The latter only nodded solemly. “We could not have done more- but someone could have.”
“We all knew what we signed up for, we are all prepared to die for the cause”, the older man stated and dunked a piece of bread in his soup. Friedrich was ready to let the matter drop and give silence renewed precedence over conversation when suddenly, the door to the small room was opened yet again. For a brief moment the young Pennsylvanian assumed that Mueller had returned, but a man of God would never enter with such haste. Instead of the clergyman, Adjutant Louis van Linkensdorf[32] stood in the doorframe, with cheeks ruddy from the cold and his short breath coming intermittently as the cold air blew past him into the room.
“What happened?”, a worried Rabyold asked.
“No new attack, no new retreat”, Friedrich hoped desperately.
“He has done it again!”, van Linkensdorf blurted out.
“Who did what, boy? Speak in full sentences”, Michael prompted the adjutant. “Common Sense[33] has written another Pamphlet. It’s called The American Crisis and the General has ordered it be read to the men… Just like the Declaration of Independence a few months ago”, the young man explained, slowly regaining his breath.
As if struck by lighting, all men had risen from their chairs: a strange feeling of euphoria spread among them and warmed them more profoundly than the soup they had supped on not long ago. With quick steps they followed van Linkensdorf out of the house and into the yard.
Friedrich’s heart accelerated in his chest as he viewed the men of his regiment standing there, in orderly, straight rows as if they were going into battle. But the only battle on this evening was fought with words, with words Colonel Hausegger read to them. He stood somewhat elevated on an old wooden box so all men could see him with a thin pamphlet in his hand from which he was reading in the flickering light of some torches.
Suddenly, amidst all the despair Friedrich found hope again. His hope was wild, brave, perhaps even desperate, but it was by far the most splendid feeling Friedrich had ever felt in his heart. There was the knowledge that his hope was not in vain and this realisation hit him as he observed how one of the soldiers was looking up at Hausegger as if he were a priest, but he was not looking up to the person, but to the words he was lending his voice to. He saw how soldiers took another by the shoulders, excited, hopeful, just like Friedrich himself. Maybe, maybe, their cause was not lost yet.
[1] Boston Tea Party
[2] Patrick Henry’s Give me liberty, or give me death-Speech
[3] Battle of Lexington and Concord
[4] Declaration of Independence ratified
[5] All streets and buildings mentioned in the stories are authentic. For further reference, click here.
[6] Despite being very common today, the term Quaker was originally a derogatory appellation. The formal and official term remains The Society of Friends.
[7] The subject indeed proved a topic of great contention. Other prominent examples of Free Quakers (formally: The Religious Society of Friends, by some styled the Free Quakers), who were in the minority, were Timothy Matlack and Lydia Darragh.
[8] Whether Betsy Ross sewed the first American flag cannot be proven conclusively; it is however verifiable that she did make several flags.
[9] See 5.
[10] This particular license was relatively rare and hard to obtain.
[11] Account after David Stewart, 1797.
[12] This paper, in publication between 1728 and 1800 was one of the best-known newspapers in the Thirteen Colonies and contained many ads.
[13] Swiss Colonel Hausegger commanded the German Regiment from 1776 until… he didn’t anymore. But we’ll get to that later.
[14] Prior to 1780, the usage of rank insignia in the Continental Army was chaotic- sashes, cockades and epaulettes were used parallel to another. In the case of Hausegger and his men, cockades had likely been used.
[15] The German Regiment/Battallion was a genuine unit within the Continental Army. For references, click here and here.
[16] Structure as of May 1776 to 25th September 1776.
[17] High-ranking officer in the German Regiment
[18] One of the first medical colleges in America near the University of Philadelphia
[19] Good front teeth were needed to bite off the end of powder cartriges.
[20] High-ranking officer in the German Regiment
[21] Reason for the sojourn in Philadelphia from September to November 1776
[22] Regimental hospitals were usually housed in private residences or barns
[23] Held the position of paymaster until approximately 16th July 1778
[24] Regimental chaplain until 7th August 1779
[25] Quartermaster until at least June 1778
[26] The Continental Army suffered from extreme food shortages
[27] Attack on Fort Moultrie, South Carolina, 28th June
[28] The Seven Years’s War, or French and Indian War (1756-1763) caused the Revolutionary War and is sometimes referenced as the “real” first World War
[29] Quote by William III, landgrave of Hesse-Cassel from 1751 to 1760
[30] Regimental surgeon until at least June 1778
[31] Having studied medicine was no required qualification. Only about 400 of the 3,500 doctors in the Colonies had been to medical school
[32] Adjutant until June 1779
[33] An early pseudonym of Thomas Paine