A bitter day with brutal winds, not unlike the gray day on December 19, 1777, when soldiers marched up Gulph Road to their winter retreat in Valley Forge, a brooding, isolated mix of wooded hills and flatland that at the time seemed to border the primal forest itself, with savage Huns likely to burst forth at any moment. Of course it was only the British to fear. No savages, they, with their tea and cakes, although they had done a thorough job of massacring an American division at nearby Paoli not long before. But who holds a grudge?

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