Reflections on ANGELS IN THE WHIRLWIND

I have been wanting to read this history of the American Revolution after Matt Donovan had mentioned it maybe ten or fifteen years ago. I have to admit it's slow going, though it may be my current lack of interest in reading, which troubles me. Perhaps I am just at loose ends or I need a goal, something to work toward. Anyways, the book ebbs and flows, as does my interest. I get tired of the battles, as it's difficult to separate one from another, to tell where the troops are, things like that. But the description of the difficulties faced by the Revolutionary army, the Congress, and its leaders is the most interesting part. First, I was surprised at how difficult it was to raise an army; Washington could never be sure of how many men he would have; most were there for money, for only a certain amount of time, and they might go home at any time, without much regard for the success of the campaign. Thus, it was a constant battle for Congress and the leadership to get enough men into uniform, let alone train them, and keep them happy. The conditions described in the most recent battle, for Trenton, emphasized the arduous task these men faced, all night marches, little food, terrible clothes, perhaps not even boots, cold, rain, mud, and then, after all of this, they were expected to fight an army much larger usually, better prepared, and well equipped. That they were able to succeed, to win battles, to outfight and out last the British seems like a miracle. Never, or so it seemed, was Washington confident of his success; he constantly complains, wishing he were back in Virginia. Much of his complaint resulted from the jealousy that other generals exhibited toward him, refusing to do what he asked, even risking the success of various compaigns if it meant making him look bad, them good, How petty man seems, in his lust for power and fame, yet how marvelous too, that these farmers and shopkeepers could somehow find the courage to perseverve, to stick with it, and keep the dream alive. Much of it seems to have rise from their refusal to be a slave to the British government; they clearly felt wronged, that somehow their honor and independence, was somehow slighted by the Brits and death rather than slavery was preferable. We forget how these words, honor, freedom, and individual rights have the magic that enables men to do great as well as awful things, and it's just as true today. Many of the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan would not be able to perform their duty if they did not think they were helping the people, fighting the tyranny that had so enslaved them for so long. Whether this is true, is a good question, but the allusion of being on the side of the good, the honorable, makes many hardships worth while. I wonder if I am too jaded to believe in anything enough to die for it, other than family; perhaps, that's why the young do the fighting