The American army as Lafayette first saw it must have seemed a strange body of men to eyes accustomed to holiday parades in Paris. The memory of it remained with him years afterward when he wrote that it consisted of "about eleven thousand men, rather poorly armed, and much worse clad." There was a great variety in the clothing, some unmistakable nakedness, and the best garments were only loose hunting-shirts of gray linen, of a cut with which he had already become familiar in Carolina. The soldiers were drawn up in two lines, the smaller ones in front, "but with this exception there was no distinction made as to size." It was while reviewing these troops that Washington said, "it is somewhat embarrassing to us to show ourselves to an officer who has just come from the army of France," to which Lafayette made the answer that won the hearts of all, "I am here to learn, not to teach." He speedily learned that in spite of their appearance and their way of marching and maneuvering, which seemed to him childishly simple, they were "fine soldiers led by zealous officers," in whom "bravery took the place of science."Judging by what they had accomplished, they were indeed wonders. It was now August, 1777. Lexington had been fought in April, 1775, and in that space of more than two years England had been unable to make real headway against the insurrection which General Gage had at first thought could be thoroughly crushed by four British regiments. That mistake had soon become apparent. Large reinforcements had been sent from England with new generals. At present there were two British armies in the field. Time and again the ragged Continentals had been beaten, yet in a bewildering fashion they continued to grow in importance in the eyes of the world.

The first part of the struggle had all taken place in the neighborhood of Boston; hence the name "Bostonians" by which the Americans had been applauded in Paris. But after General Howe was held for a whole winter in Boston in a state of siege he sailed away for Halifax in March, 1776, with all his troops and all the Tories who refused to stay without him. This was nothing less than an admission that he was unable to cope with the Americans. He sent word to England that it would require at least 50,000 men to do it—10,000 in New England, 20,000 in the Middle States, 10,000 in the South, and 10,000 to beat General Washington, who had developed such an uncanny power of losing battles, yet gaining prestige.

The War Office in London refused to believe General Howe. It reasoned that New England was, after all, only a small section of country which could be dealt with later; so it let it severely alone and concentrated attention upon New York with a view to getting command of the Hudson River. The Hudson would afford a direct route up to the Canadian border, and Canada was already British territory. It ought not to be difficult to gain control of one Atlantic seaport and one river. That accomplished, the rebellion would be cut in two as neatly as though severed with a knife, and it would be easy enough to dispose of New England and of the South in turn.

So General Howe was ordered back to carry out this plan. He appeared off Staten Island with twenty-five thousand men on the day after the Declaration of Independence was signed. In the thirteen months that elapsed between his coming and the day Lafayette first reviewed the American army General Washington had been able to keep Howe and all his forces at bay. He had marched and retreated and maneuvered. He had lost battles and men. Lost New York, as had been reported in Paris; had indeed lost most of his army, as the American commissioners admitted to Lafayette; yet in some mysterious way he continued to fight. By brilliant strategy he had gained enough victory to rekindle hope after hope seemed dead; and never, even when the outlook was darkest, had the British been able to get full control of the Hudson River.

The British government, annoyed by Howe's delay, sent over another army under General Burgoyne in the spring of 1777, with orders to go down from Canada and end the matter. When last heard from, this army had taken Ticonderoga and was pursuing General Schuyler through eastern New York. General Howe, meanwhile, appeared to have dropped off the map. He was no longer in force near New York, nor had Washington any definite news of his whereabouts. This was the situation when Lafayette became a member of Washington's military family; a major-general without pay, experience, or a command.

He took his commission seriously enough to cause his general some misgiving; for, after all, Washington knew nothing about his ability, only that he liked him personally. Lafayette frankly admitted his youth and inexperience, but always accompanied such admissions with a hint that he was ready to assume command as soon as the general saw fit to intrust him with it. On the 19th of August Washington wrote to Benjamin Harrison, a member of Congress, telling him his perplexity and asking him to find out how matters really stood. If Lafayette's commission had been merely honorary, as Washington supposed, the young man ought to be made fully aware of his mistake; if not, Washington would like to know what was expected of him. The answer returned was that Washington must use his own judgment; and for a time matters drifted. Lafayette meanwhile took gallant advantage of every small opportunity that came his way, both for assuming responsibility and for doing a kindness. He proved himself ready to bear a little more than his full share of hardship, and, by constant cheerfulness and willingness to accept whatever duty was assigned him, came to be regarded as by far the best foreigner in the army—though of course hopelessly and forever a foreigner. In his letters home he often touched upon the discontent of other men of European birth "who complain, detest, and are detested in turn. They do not understand why I alone am liked.... For my part I cannot understand why they are so heartily detested.... I am happy in being loved by everybody, foreign and American. I like them all, hope to merit their esteem, and we are well content with each other."

It was on the 21st of August, two days after Washington's letter to Mr. Harrison, that Lafayette was called to attend the first council of war—that duty about which he had playfully written to his wife. The question was what to do next, for General Howe and his army had not been seen or heard of for weeks. That meant that he was planning some surprise; but from which direction would it come?

The truth was that General Howe had allowed himself to be lured away from the Hudson by his ambition to capture Philadelphia, knowing what a blow it would be to the Americans to lose their chief town where Congress was sitting. As soon as this was accomplished he meant to return to his former duty. To the American officers gathered around the map on the council table his whereabouts was a great mystery, for they thought ample time had elapsed for him to appear in Chesapeake Bay if Philadelphia was indeed his objective. Presumably he meant to attack some other place, and Charleston seemed to be the only other place of sufficient importance to merit his attention. As it was manifestly impossible to get Washington's army that far south in time to be of assistance, it was determined to leave Charleston to its fate and to move nearer to New York to guard the Hudson. With Burgoyne descending from the north and Howe in hiding, it was quite possible that the river might soon be menaced from two directions. The battle of Bennington, a severe check for Burgoyne, had in fact occurred three days before, but it is probable they had not yet heard of it.

The day after the council, ships carrying Howe's army were sighted in Chesapeake Bay, which proved without doubt that Philadelphia was his goal. Washington faced his men about, and, in order to cheer Philadelphians and give his soldiers a realization of what they were defending, marched the army through the city "down Front Street to Chestnut, and up Chestnut to Elm," riding, himself, at the head of his troops, a very handsome figure on his white horse, Lafayette conspicuous among the staff-officers, and the privates wearing sprigs of green in their hats as they marched to a lively air. They were joined as they went along by Pennsylvania militia and by other volunteers who hastened forward, American fashion, at prospect of a battle. Thus Washington's force was increased to about fifteen thousand by the time he neared the enemy. Most of these new arrivals were, however, worse off for clothing and arms—and discipline—than the original army, so his force by no means matched either in numbers or equipment the eighteen thousand British soldiers, thoroughly supplied according to the best standards of the day, which were disembarked by Cornwallis "at the Head of Elk," the inlet of Chesapeake Bay nearest to the city.

There were several preliminary skirmishes, during which Lafayette learned that Washington could be as personally reckless as the youngest lieutenant. On the day the British landed he exposed himself in a reconnaissance and was forced to remain through a night of storm, with Lafayette and Gen. Nathanael Greene, in a farm-house very near the enemy lines.

The main battle for the defense of Philadelphia occurred on the 11th of September, on the banks of a little stream called the Brandywine, about twenty-five miles from the city. Washington intrenched his force upon the hilly ground of its east bank, but, owing to woods which made it hard to observe the enemy, to the ease with which the stream could be forded, and to the superior numbers of the British, this position was turned and his army forced back toward Chester. It was Lafayette's first battle, and the zeal with which he threw himself into the unequal contest, the quickness of his perceptions, and the courage he showed in following up his instinct of the thing to do with the act of doing it, won the admiration of all who saw him. After that day the army forgot he was a foreigner and looked upon him as one of themselves. "Never," he says, "was adoption more complete."

During the hottest of the fight he had leaped from his horse down among the men, striving by voice and example to rally them to make a stand against Cornwallis's fast-approaching column. Lord Sterling and General Sullivan had come to his aid and the three had held their ground until the British were only twenty yards away, when they took refuge in a wood. Lafayette's left leg had been struck by a musket-ball, but he was unconscious of this until another officer called attention to the blood running from his boot. With the help of his French aide-de-camp, Major de Gimat, who had come with him on La Victoire, he remounted his horse, but remained with the troops and was borne along in the general retreat toward Chester, which became very like a rout as night approached; men and guns hurrying on in ever-increasing confusion. Near Chester there was a bridge, and here, though Lafayette was weak from loss of blood, he placed guards and, halting the fugitives as they came up, managed to bring something like order into the chaos. It was only after Washington and other generals reached the spot that he consented to have his wound properly dressed. Washington's midnight report to Congress mentioned the gallantry of the young Frenchman.

Lafayette's injury was not at all dangerous, but it was quite serious enough to keep him in bed for a month or more. He was taken to Philadelphia, and Washington sent his most skilful surgeon to attend him, with orders to care for him as he would for his own son. Later, when Howe's continued approach made it certain the city must pass into British hands, he was sent by water to Bristol on the Delaware River, and from that point Mr. Henry Laurens, the new President of Congress, on the way to join his fleeing fellow-members, who were to resume their sessions at York, gave him a lift in his traveling-carriage as far as Bethlehem, where the Moravians nursed him back to health.

De Kalb and other military friends took a real, if humorously expressed, interest in his "little wound," and on his part he declared that he valued it at more than five hundred guineas. He had hastened to write his wife all about it, not too seriously, "for fear that General Howe, who sends his royal master rather exaggerated details of his exploits in America, may report that I am not only wounded, but dead. It would cost him no more." Reports of Lafayette's death were indeed circulated in France, but Madame d'Ayen managed to keep them from her daughter. Lafayette assured his wife that his injury was "only a flesh wound, touching neither bone nor nerves. The surgeons are astonished at the rapidity with which it heals, and fall into ecstasies every time it is dressed, pretending it is the loveliest thing in the world. For myself, I find it very dirty, very much of a bore, and quite painful enough; but in truth, if a man wanted a wound merely for diversion's sake he could not do better than come and examine mine, with a view to copying it. There, dear heart, is the true history of this thing that I give myself airs about and pompously call 'my wound' in order to appear interesting."