“And then, by God,” he cried furiously, “then Congress gave him a horse and made him a major general; but the dirty, piss-wicking, titpecking pea-brains left St. Clair and Stirling and Mifflin and Stephen and Lincoln ahead of him! Yep: those five still outrank him; and that’s why Arnold ain’t here, where he ought to be! That’s why we’re caught in a hole, with St. Clair to get us out of it, and Roast-Fermoy, and Wilkinson, and not a real fighter in the crowd, except a few fellers that ain’t general—fellers you never heard of—Colonel Francis and Colonel Scammel and Colonel Cilley and Major Dearborn. That don’t do us no good, because tit-wit generals don’t pay no attention to nobody but themselves. The trouble with Francis and Scammel and Dearborn is, they got brains and know how to use ’em, but ain’t no good at all at politics. They’re such damn fools they do their fighting on battlefields, like Arnold, instead of around a Congressman’s privy, where you have to do it if you want to be promoted in this army!”

“No!” I protested.

“I say Yes!” Cap shouted. With a curved forefinger he swept the sweat from his forehead and flung it passionately against the wall. “I say Yes! I swear to my God that there ain’t but two persons of any importance in this whole damned country that appreciates Arnold. One of ’em’s Schuyler, and Schuyler’s got troubles of his own. He’s got brains, so Congress can’t rest till they spit on him and insult him and drive him out of the army for good!”

“You say one of ’em’s Schuyler? Who’s the other?”

“Feller by the name of Washington,” Cap said heavily. “General George Washington.”

“But if Washington appreciates him,” I asked, bewildered, “why doesn’t he send him—–”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Cap bawled. “Ain’t you got no understanding of politics? Washington ain’t allowed to do nothing without he kisses Congress’s ear first. He has to write ’em a letter every fifteen minutes, rain or shine, and he can’t make any plans of his own without asking Congress please can he make ’em; and he can’t get Congress to let him have enough men or money or clothes or food or powder or guns; and he don’t have nothing to say about promoting officers! Washington raised hell when Congress promoted five generals over Arnold’s head, but a hell of a lot of good it did him! What the hell you think Congress cares about what Washington wants? Why, you poor damned ijit, he ain’t nothing but commander-in-chief of the army, and he ain’t got no rights at all except to kiss a Congressman’s ear every time he sees one with its pants down!”