It's pitch black. It's after midnight, April 1775, and the streets of Boston pulse with secret urgency. Paul Revere, the Boston silversmith, veteran of the Boston Tea Party, is on the move again. A rebel's fire is in his eyes. He clamors onto his horse, heart racing, as he spurs it into a frantic gallop. The wind whips his face as he tears out of Boston through the countryside, dodging moonlit shadows and the ever-present threat that the British patrols are lurking in the darkness. Every sleepy farmhouse he passes, he voices an urgent warning. The regulars are coming out. The regulars are coming out. Regulars being the colonial term for British troops, he doesn't say the British are coming, the British are coming because in the colonies, all of the Americans consider themselves British at this point. Revere charges straight for the Parsonage in Lexington, where Reverend Jonas Clark harbors two of the revolution's most wanted men, Samuel Adams and John Hancock. These guys are the brains behind the brewing storm and the British aim to clap them in irons snuffing out the rebellion before it ever catches fire. The Parsonage is guarded by local Minutemen who converge on Revere before they even realize who he is. He finally bursts inside, delivering the intel that might save Adams and Hancock from the gallows. The Redcoats are marching in from Boston and they're going to snatch you and seize the colonists' hidden weapons. Revere presses on towards nearby Concord, but he doesn't get very far. British soldiers ambush him and surround him. Pistols jammed against his chest and his head. They grill him, threatening execution. It's hard to fathom why they didn't arrest Revere because he's the most well-connected Patriot operative in Boston, but instead they let him go, they seize his horse, and then they gallop away. Bruised but unbroken, Revere stumbles back to the Parsonage on foot. When he gets there, you can't believe that Adams and Hancock are still there. Hancock has taken his sweet time packing Adams, meanwhile only has the clothes on his back, which he escaped to Boston a few days earlier. But they're both used to being wanted men. They've dealt with the British government threats and harassment for years now, but it reveres urging the men finally bold to Hancock's fancy carriage. Later, they pause for breakfast by the road. Yeah, really. When a farmer rushes towards them across the field breathless, the British troops are closing in on you now. Adams and Hancock then ditch the carriage, scrambling into the woods on foot, hearts pounding as they vanish into the underbrush. They have no idea that in Lexington, the town they just escaped, a war against the most powerful empire on earth has just begun. This is the American story, The Beginnings, adapted from the book of the same title by David Barton and Tim Barton. The Sun had barely risen over Lexington Green on April 19, 1775, when 77 colonial Minutemen left their farms and their shops. They stood their tents in uncertain and ragged lines on the triangular patch of grass in the center of town. They faced the unknown, gripping their muskets knuckles-white. Many had never been in combat. All of them had heard the midnight alarm. Among them stood Captain John Parker, a weathered veteran of earlier wars who is said to have told his men, quote, stand your ground. Don't fire unless fired upon. But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here. On the road marched 700 British regulars, the Redcoats flashing beneath a pale sky. They had been dispatched by General Thomas Gage from Boston to seize control of all the colonial weapons in Concord and to arrest Samuel Adams and John Hancock if possible. The Redcoats filed into this quiet town. Their movements were precise and orderly, intimidating to the homemade militia with their patchwork of weapons and abilities. But the British just formed ranks opposite the colonists. There was a moment of stillness and unbearable quiet. And then came a sound that ignited a revolution that would reshape the world. No one knows who fired the first shot. General Gage later claimed it was one of the rebels. But Reverend Jonas Clark, the pastor who was sheltering Hancock and Adams in his home, fiercely rejected this version. In sworn testimony, Clark insisted, nothing can be more certain than the contrary. And nothing more false, weak, or wicked than such a representation. A cloud of witnesses whose veracity cannot be justly disputed upon oath have declared in the most express and positive terms that the British troops fired first. The British volleyed into the disorganized militia. Accord smoke clouded the green. Men on both sides fell amid the yelling and confusion. Within a few chaotic minutes, eight Americans were killed and ten were wounded. The British continued their march, leaving behind shock, blood, and grief. As the British advanced to Concord, colonial militia numbers swelled. By the time the Redcoats reached the town, word had spread like wildfire. And hundreds of armed colonists shadowed the enemy movements. At the North Bridge, around 400 American militiamen confronted the British force. The tents standoff escalated when the British fired warning shots. Then came a deadly response. The Americans fired back in volleys and the British line broke. They retreated in disorder, falling back towards Boston through the fields and in the woods, where the militiamen fired from behind trees, stone walls, and buildings. Letters from the time described the British retreat as chaotic and panicked and very bloody. Houses and farms along the route were burned, many by British troops retaliating against the perceived sniper fire. The retreat became a desperate scramble with 273 British casualties. One of the most astonishing stories from that day came from an unlikely warrior, an 80-year-old Captain Samuel Whitmore. When a squad of British soldiers passed near his home, Whitmore ambushed him. He shot and killed one with his own musket and two others with his two pistols. One of the troops shot Whitmore in the face, and when he fell to the ground, they struck him on the head with a butt of a musket. The remaining British soldiers swarmed him with bayonets, stabbing him 13 times and then left him for dead. Whitmore embodied the Patriot grit and the will to survive that would be required of the colonies. Four hours after he was shot and bayoneted, Samuel Whitmore was found lying in a pool of his own blood, trying to reload his musket. He was carried to a doctor, his case pronounced hopeless, but the doctor bandaged him up anyway and sent him home to die. Whitmore somehow or another survived. He lived another 18 years with horrible scars and finally dying at the age of 98. Almost one month before the battles of Lexington and Concord, Connecticut Governor Jonathan Trumbull had declared April 19th a day of public fasting in prayer, quote, for repentance and for the securing of the liberties of the American colonies. So when the first bloodshed of the Revolutionary War erupted on that exact day, an entire state was praying. Many colonists interpreted it as no coincidence, but as a sign of divine involvement. Samuel Adams and John Hancock avoided arrest by the British and made it to Philadelphia for the start of the Second Continental Congress in June. John Adams was also a Massachusetts delegate. He rose and nominated George Washington to be the commander of a brand new Continental Army. His cousin Samuel Adams seconded the motion. John Hancock, who had presumed John Adams would nominate him, was said to be visibly angered. Washington, however, was a strategic pick by the Adams' cousins. The idea was to help bind the southern colonies to the northern cause. Washington left the room for the vote. Congress unanimously approved him. He then accepted the responsibility but gave a solemn response. I am truly sensible of the high honor done me in this appointment, yet I feel great distress from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty and exert every power I possess in their service and for the support of the glorious cause. But lest some unlucky event should happen unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with. In a private letter to his wife, Martha, Washington confessed, Far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity. It has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service. The day after Washington's appointment, British forces under General William Howe launched an assault on colonial fortifications near Bunker Hill, just north of Boston. The colonial defenders, low on ammunition, were said to have been ordered not to fire until they saw the whites of their eyes. The result was brutal, vicious, up-close combat. Dr. Joseph Warren, a rising political leader and Samuel Adams' closest friend, was among the Boston volunteers defending Bunker Hill. In the final British push, he was shot in the face, his body brutally mutilated by bayonets. When the British finally took the hill, at the cost of over a thousand casualties, including 92 officers, the colonists lost 450 men. Though technically a British victory, the cost shook their confidence. Many colonists sought his proof they could stand toe-to-toe with the greatest army in the world. But Washington had not yet taken command. The Continental Army was appallingly disorganized. Supplies were scarce, rebellion was now tangible but costly, victory was nowhere on the horizon. And a great storm was gathering, one that would test Washington's resolve, his army's endurance, and the very idea of American independence. Sometimes people get sideswiped by life. It's a sudden medical bill that you never saw coming or a job change that turns everything that you once understood to be your finances completely upside down. Then you add to that the higher prices on everything and suddenly you're in a position where credit cards are the bridge. You have to. Then the interest rates. 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George Washington had arrived to assume official command of the Continental Army in circling Boston. The scene was one of organized chaos, tents sprawled across fields, men drilling awkwardly with whatever weapons they had. When Washington had arrived under the impression that New England had 20,000 battle-ready troops, that was a force to reckon with. But reality looked a little bit different. A thorough count revealed the harsh truth. There were only about 16,000, and after accounting for the sick, the absent, and those without basic equipment, barely 14,000 stood ready for duty. It was a gut punch. Revolutionary zeal and actual readiness were far apart. Washington dove into assessments, writing among the lines noting deficiencies in discipline and supplies. The second reality check came with a gunpowder inventory. They had less than 10,000 pounds in total. It was scarcely enough for nine rounds per soldier in a sustained fight. This revelation stunned Washington. Let's say he sat speechless for about 30 minutes, his mind reeling from the vulnerability. The shortage could doom them before they even really got started. Meanwhile, back in Philadelphia, the Second Continental Congress grappled with division. Hawks, like the Adams Cousins, pushed for a full break with England. But many of the delegates were still loyal to the crown at heart and yearned for reconciliation. This faction successfully pushed for one last try at patching things up with King George III. The Congress drafted the Olive Branch Petition, a humble appeal to the King for peace, affirming allegiance while begging Britain to fix colonial grievances. This petition passed amid heated debate. It was an odd hail merry to send considering the bloodstained ground in Lexington, Concord, and now Boston. But in September, the emissary from Congress sailed to London to hand deliver the Olive Branch Petition. It was a wasted effort. King George, incensed by continual reports of rebellion, refused to even read the petition. He branded Congress an illegal assembly of traitors. This slammed the door shut on negotiation. Now all-out war seemed inevitable. The same month that King George waved off the Olive Branch from Congress, George Washington faced another blow to his struggling camp in Boston. Dr. Benjamin Church, a respected Boston physician and surgeon general of the Army, turned out to be a traitor. Dr. Church had been a member of the Sons of Liberty. He was trusted by Samuel and John Adams and Paul Revere and John Hancock. Suspicion arose when a coded letter written by Dr. Church was intercepted on its way to the British lines. Once deciphered, the letter revealed detailed intelligence on American troops' strength, plans, and weaknesses. Church claimed the letter was just a ruse to mislead the enemy, but the evidence piled up. He had been on the British general Gage's payroll for months. Church was tried by military court, convicted, and thrown in prison. The episode rocked the young army and Congress and put everybody on edge as if they weren't facing enough massive obstacles without also having to worry about traitors in their midst. His autumn chilled into winter. A 25-year-old Boston bookseller named Henry Knox came to Washington with an innovative idea. A colonel in the Continental Army, Knox was a self-taught artillery expert. His idea was to undertake a mission to Fort Ticonderoga in upstate New York. The British fort had been seized six months earlier by Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold with a small militia force. The fort contained dozens of British cannons that were just sitting there. Knox thought they could be hauled back to Boston where they would be desperately needed. Washington sent Knox on the mission right away. It was the first of many gambles the war would require of this ragtag military. Meanwhile, Washington tried to keep his amateur army together outside of Boston. There was still far too little gunpowder. Congress dragging its feet on funding, leaving soldiers in tattered uniforms, unpaid and grumbling. As New Year's Day 1776 dawned, disaster struck. Thousands of one-year enlistments expired and men streamed towards home, weary of the hardships. Some new recruits replaced them, but the army didn't have enough weapons to supply the new men. Washington now had under 10,000 troops, only half the number fit for duty because of rampant illness. One private sleepless moments in the middle of the night Washington confessed his anguish. The reflection upon my situation and that of this army produces many an uneasy hour when all around me are wrapped in sleep. Few people know the predicament we are in. To his trusted military secretary Joseph Reed, he wrote candidly, Could I have foreseen what I have and am like to experience? No consideration upon earth should have induced me to accept this command. But amid the gloom and against the odds, Henry Knox showed up in Boston with his captured cannons, which provided a lift to the shivering army. Knox and his team built 42 massive sleds from felled trees, harnessing teams of oxen and horses to drag 59 guns, totaling 120,000 pounds across 300 miles of wilderness. For two months they endured blizzards, crossed frozen rivers, climbed mountains without losing a single cannon. It was a logistical miracle. The turning point came on the night of March 4th, 1776. Under the night sky, 2,000 American troops moved like ghosts towards Dorchester Heights. It was a strategic overlook of Boston Harbor. And to muffle the noise they wrapped wagon wheels in hay and straw, hauling Knox's cannons uphill in silence. Earthworks rose from the frozen soil, fortified with barrels of dirt and felled trees. And at dawn, British lookouts blinked in disbelief at the full fortress that had not existed the night before, with artillery threatening their ships below. One British officer gasped in awe, my God, these fellows have done more work in one night than I could make my army do in three months. British General Howe ordered an assault, massing troops for a bunker hill type assault. But that night the weather intervened. A ferocious nor'easter unleashed howling winds, driving rain and waves that swamped the British landing boats. The attack had to be called off. General Howe found his position untenable with the Colonials controlling the high position with so much firepower. He decided best to evacuate the city. Almost two weeks after Washington's daring overnight move to take Dorchester Heights, 11,000 British troops and loyalists boarded ships and they sailed away as Bostonians cheered from the shores. Abigail Adams, watching from her home near Boston, wrote her husband in wonder. The more I think of it, the more amazed I am that they should leave such a harbor, such fortifications, such entrenchments, and that we should be in peaceable possession of a town which we expected would cost us a river of blood. Surely it is the Lord's doings and it is marvelous in our eyes. As celebrations echoed across Boston Harbor, a small pamphlet rippled through the colonies. The incendiary words it contained quickly changed American hearts and minds toward the previously unthinkable. You know it's becoming exhausting buying food from companies that want your money, but don't want to tell you where anything is made or anything much about it. You pick up a package, you squint at the label, and somehow you still need a private investigator to figure out what you're actually bringing home for dinner. It shouldn't be like that, it shouldn't be hard. That's one of the reasons I like good ranchers. 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Torch insiders already have access to the first 10 episodes of the American story right now. Add free. Just go to Glenbeck.com slash Torch and unlock the full experience today. Thomas Paine. New character. He arrived in America in 1774 as a down on his luck Englishman, fresh from failures as a corset maker, teacher and tax collector. Armed with a letter of introduction from Benjamin Franklin, he landed in Philadelphia, a city buzzing with discontent. Paine with his razor sharp mind and gift for plain speech soon joined the Patriot press. In January 1776, as Henry Knox slid into Boston with his trove of cannons, Thomas Paine published something he called Common Sense. It was a 47 page pamphlet that exploded like a bombshell in the minds of colonists, arguing that monarchy was absurd. A royal brute like King George deserved no loyalty. Paine called for the immediate independence, framing it as common sense for an enlightened people. At the time, it sold 120,000 copies in three months. It was the best selling printed work by a single author in American history up to that time. It was read aloud in taverns and homes. It dramatically shifted public opinion. Its influence was unrivaled in turning colonial minds towards independence. As John Adams rode through New York on his way from Boston to Congress in late January, he bought two copies of Common Sense. He sent one to his wife Abigail with a note on its power. Paine's words democratized the debate, making independence feel inevitable and urgent. By June 1776, the idea of separation from Britain simmered in Philadelphia's statehouse. Virginia's Richard Henry Lee proposed a resolution for independence, sparking weeks of fierce debate in Congress. A vote was postponed until July 1st to allow the colony's time to consider. And in the meantime, a committee was appointed to write a Declaration of Independence. Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston. The committee decided Jefferson was the best suited to tackle the first draft. So the 33-year-old Jefferson sequestered himself in an upstairs parlor of a rented brick house on the outskirts of Philadelphia where he would, quote, have the benefit of circulating air. In that summer heat, he wrote page after page, with input from the committee he crafted an eloquent, powerful rationale for breaking up with Britain. Liberty was not granted by kings, but endowed by God. When Jefferson finished, Adams read the draft aloud to the committee. Franklin suggested a few small edits. Adams defended the boldest phrases, and by June 28th, the document was ready for debate. On July 1st, Congress reconvened for final arguments. Pennsylvania's John Dickinson, a cautious lawyer, rose passionately against it, warning that declaring independence now was, quote, to brave the storm in a skiff made of paper. His eloquence swayed some, but John Adams countered with what witnesses called the greatest speech of his life, a two-hour masterpiece defending liberty, dismantling Dickinson's fears with logic and fire. The debate stretched on for nine grueling hours. Finally, the next day, July 2nd, the vote came. Twelve colonies approved Lee's resolution. Only one, New York, abstained, waiting for instructions for home. Independence was decided. John Adams wrote Abigail that night with a vision on how Independence Day should be celebrated. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward, forever more. The rest of July 2nd and 3rd were spent by Congress editing Jefferson's draft of the Declaration. Nearly a quarter of it was altered or deleted. Jefferson sat fuming as words were struck out line by line. He was especially upset when his searing condemnation of the slave trade was cut at the insistence of delegates from South Carolina and Georgia. Still, the final version rang with clarity and conviction. On July 4th, Congress officially approved and adopted the Declaration of Independence. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them. A decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form as to them shall seem most likely to affect their safety and happiness. That night, a handwritten copy was rushed to the local print shop of John Dunlop, who labored through the early morning of July 5th to typeset and print about 200 broadsides. Couriers on horseback fanned out, delivering copies to every colony. No one knows what happened to that very first handwritten copy that was rushed to Dunlop shop. Of those first Dunlop broadsides, only 26 are known to survive today, scattered among libraries and private collections. The official copy, known as the engrossed copy, was then prepared on a single giant sheet of parchment. On August 2nd, one by one, the delegates stepped up and signed their name. By doing so, they were committing high treason, punishable by death. Years later, Dr. Benjamin Rush wrote to John Adams recalling that solemn mourning. Do you recollect the pensive and awful silence which pervaded the house when we were called up, one after another, to the table of the President of Congress, to subscribe what was believed by many at that time to be our own death warrants? The silence and the gloom of the mourning was interrupted, I well recollect, only for a moment by Colonel Harrison of Virginia, who said to Mr. Jerry at the table, I shall have a great advantage over you, Mr. Jerry, when we are all hung for what we are now doing. From the size and weight of my body, I shall die in a few minutes, but from the lightness of your body, you will dance in the air an hour or two before you are dead. The speech procured a transient smile, but it was soon succeeded by the solemnity with which the whole business was conducted. 56 men signed the declaration. Historian T.R. Ferenbach later described their sacrifice in doing so. Nine signers died of wounds or hardships during the Revolutionary War. Five were captured or imprisoned, in some cases with brutal treatment. The wives, sons, and daughters of others were killed, jailed, mistreated, persecuted, or left penniless. One was driven from his wife's deathbed and lost all his children. The houses of twelve signers were burned to the ground. Seventeen lost everything they owned. Every signer was prescribed as a traitor. Everyone was hunted. Most were driven into flight. Most were at one time or another barred from their families or homes. Most were offered immunity, freedom, rewards, their property, or the lives and release of loved ones to break their pledged word or to take the king's protection. Their fortunes were forfeited, but their honor was not. No signer defected or changed his stand throughout the darkest hours. Their honor, like the nation, remained intact. John Adams later wrote a warning, meant for us. Posterity. You will never know how much it cost the present generation to preserve your freedom. I hope you will make a good use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in heaven that I ever took half the pains to preserve it. On July 9th, 1776 in New York City, General George Washington assembled his troops on the commons. A freshly printed broadside of the declaration was read out loud and cheers erupted. That night, soldiers and civilians marched to the equestrian statue of King George III and pulled it down with ropes. The lead was then melted to make more than 42,000 musket balls for the coming fight. But the euphoria was very short-lived. Off of Staten Island, 400 British naval ships filled the harbor. It was the largest force ever assembled to that point in world history. Under British General William Howe, 32,000 troops had landed on Staten Island, more soldiers than the entire population of Philadelphia, which was America's largest city at the time. From his post, Washington's military secretary Joseph Reed wrote to his wife, When I look down and see the prodigious fleet they have collected, the preparations they have made, and consider the vast expenses incurred, I cannot help being astonished that a people should come 3,000 miles at such risk, trouble and expense to rob, plunder and destroy another people because they will not lay their lives and fortunes at their feet. The Storm, the true test of independence, had just arrived. Now the body is sending you a bill. That's the bad news, but the good news is you don't have to just accept it. 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The British invasion force in New York Harbor had swelled into a spectacle of power. 400 ships, 32,000 troops, including thousands of hired German Hessian mercenaries. For the first time, Washington truly saw what its aspiring nation was up against. On August 27th, the British struck. It became the largest battle ever fought in North America to that point. Over 40,000 soldiers clashing across the fields and woods of Long Island. British General Howe pulled off a key flanking maneuver, slipping troops through an unguarded road at night. American scouts missed it and by morning, red coats poured in the rear of Washington's forces. When the British trap snapped shut, chaos erupted. Muskets roared, cannons thundered, men fell and heaps. American troops from Maryland and Delaware fought desperately, repeatedly charging with bayonets to hold the line, pying any time for retreats. But it was ultimately futile. The Americans suffered 300 killed and over 1,000 captured, many bayoneted in surrender. One British general wrote smugly, If a good bleeding can bring those Bible-faced Yankees to their senses, the fever of independence should soon abate. Washington was forced to retreat to the fortified lines of Brooklyn Heights. The defeat was crushing. Morale plummeted among the 9,000 or so remaining troops and the British were poised for a final blow. If they had pursued the Americans right away, the war and America's quest for independence probably would have ended that day. But General Howe delayed. Perhaps he remembered the slaughter he had endured at Bunker Hill. Whatever the reason, Washington could not stay put, so he made a bold decision. They would evacuate the entire army across the East River to Manhattan. 9,000 men, their horses, cannons, supplies, right under the enemy's nose. On August 29th, the Americans once again pulled off a secret overnight mission. Under strict orders of silence, regiments marched to the Brooklyn Ferry Dock. Skilled fishermen manned flatboats and sloops rowing back and forth across the East River in total darkness. The oars were muffled with rags. Commands were passed along in whispers. The soldiers closest to enemy lines had to maintain campfires and make noise throughout the long night to keep up the appearance of an entrenched army. All night long, Washington's troops were ferried to Manhattan. But as dawn grayed the sky, hundreds of troops still had not made it across. Exposure meant certain death or capture. Then a miracle. A thick fog blanketed both the river and the troops remaining on the Brooklyn side. The British couldn't see them as they made their escape. Their Benjamin Talmadge recalled, As the dawn of the next day approached, those of us who remained in the trenches became very anxious for our own safety. And when the dawn appeared, there were several regiments still on duty. At this time, a very dense fog began to rise, and it seemed to settle in a peculiar manner over both encampments. I recollect this peculiar providential occurrence perfectly well. And so very dense was the atmosphere that I could scarcely discern a man at six yards distance. In one night, and part of a foggy morning, 9,000 American troops slipped across the river out from under the British guns without a single loss of life. Washington's escape was incredible. But it was a desperate move to buy time. They simply couldn't compete with the overwhelming British force, and so the setbacks piled on. In November, Hessian forces stormed Fort Washington on Manhattan's north end. The Americans again defended valiantly, but were quickly overwhelmed. Over 2,800 surrendered, nearly a third of Washington's army in New York. The only patriotic bright spot in the humiliating defeat was the effort of Molly Corbin, the Pennsylvania woman who had followed her husband to war working as a cook and a nurse when he was killed banning a cannon at the fort. Molly grabbed the rammer, swabbing and loading under fire. Grape shot almost tore her arm off, but she kept firing until captured. She was eventually paroled by the British and returned home disabled. She became the first woman to earn a military pension from Congress. It was a spark of inspiration amidst the gloom. Across the Hudson, British general Cornwallis eyed Fort Lee as their next target. Washington, scarred by the previous loss, ordered immediate evacuation. Troops fled at dawn, abandoning tents, guns and supplies. Cornwallis arrived to an empty fort. His men looted what remained. The Continental Army was now a shadow of what it was when it first arrived in New York, and Washington's army retreated into New Jersey's countryside, pursued relentlessly, rebels fleeing like hunted game. Thomas Paine could not stand idly by with a revolutionary war raging. He volunteered as an aide to camp, to Major General Nathaniel Green, and witnessed the army's despair firsthand. Around the campfire, he wrote, the crisis, with its now famous opening lines. 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 it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. It was no poetic exaggeration. British troops and the German Hessian mercenaries rampaged through New Jersey, plundering houses and farms. General Green described the horrors in a letter to his wife. The loyalists lead the relentless foreigners to the houses of their neighbors and strip poor women and children of everything they have to eat or wear. And after plundering them in this sort, the Brutes often ravish the mothers and daughters and compel the fathers and sons to behold their brutality. In case there's any doubt, in the 1700s, ravish meant rape. December 1776, it brought another harsh winter and deeper despair. Washington had expected the British would try to take Philadelphia next. Congress fled to a safer location in Baltimore. The only respite was that in mid-December, British General Howe decided to suspend military operations until the spring. Finally, maybe some breathing room for Washington and his men. The Continental Army teetered as it stumbled into Pennsylvania. Once again, enlistments were ending, supplies non-existence, brutal cold, claiming fingers and toes. The American general observed his troops, quote, so destitute of shoes that the blood left on the frozen ground in many places marked the route they had taken. Washington now had maybe 6,000 troops fit for duty. It really looked like it was over. It looked like the Americans had lost. General Howe could afford to wait until spring to finish them off because it seemed inevitable. But Washington insisted it wasn't over yet. As General Green put it, his Excellency George Washington never appeared to so much advantage as in the hours of distress. It was almost Christmas. Washington knew there were Hessian troops garrisoned in Trenton, New Jersey. And that is when he conceived a plan, audacious in its risk. In his army's tattered state, it was madness. Or maybe genius that just might work. Coming up on the American story, The Beginnings. It's after 8 a.m. when Washington's troops finally swarm into Trenton. There's no turning back now the Hessian troops stumble from their barracks into heavy musket and cannon fire. In the frenzy charge, an 18-year-old Virginian takes a musket ball through the shoulder that severs an artery. He collapses. He's bleeding out in the snow. A civilian doctor named John Riker, as in Riker's Island, rushes into the fray. Riker's not in the army. He just shown up to offer his assistance when he heard the battle erupt. Spotting the fallen officer, he tears open the man's uniform and clamps the artery with his bare fingers. It works. Dr. Riker saves the young lieutenant's life. A young man named James Monroe, who is going to go on to serve as the nation's fifth president. Just a reminder, I'd love you to rate and subscribe to the podcast and pass this on to a friend so it can be discovered by other people. When life gets hectic, energy ups and downs are all you need. If you're seeking energy reassurance, Eonnext can help. 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