Throughout that horrible winter of 1777, as the fledgling American army suffered a series of setbacks and settled in to the winter camp at Valley Forge, one man seemed to not understand what was going on. While others in the camp were dispirited, he was excited. While many thought their cause was lost, he was certain of victory.
Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert Du Motier, also known as the marquis de La Fayette, had crossed the ocean to participate in the dream that was a free nation. He wasn't about to let that dream end.
Only 19, Lafayette's money, friends, and association with the French crown helped him secure a title of "major-general" in the American forces, but it was a paper title. It was left to George Washington to determine if this young Frenchman could fight. It didn't take Washington long to determine that Lafayette was more than a paper tiger. Washington and Lafayette became fast friends -- a friendship that would endure for a lifetime -- and after he led a small group to vitory over a superior force of Hessian mercenaries, the young outsider was given command of a division of American volunteers. He commanded his men with a skill Washington called "masterly," and received an award from congress for his bravery.
Throughout the horrible winter at Valley Forge, though Lafayette might have retreated to better quarters in town, or used his wealth to rent a nearby home, he stayed in a tent, sharing the awful conditions with his men. He fought beside Washington that winter and again that spring before returning to France to help secure agreements between his home country and the fledgling state for which he had drawn his sword.
On his return, he found himself in the critical position of defending Virginia. In this southern theater, he again excelled. Washington credited Lafayette with saving the army more than once. His zeal for the American forces extended beyond the battlefield. When the young republic ran short of funds to pay the soldiers, Lafayette borrowed money on his own to pay his men. For sharing their hardships, for his bravery in battle, and for the concern he showed them all, his men loved him.
His last action in the war was also the last action of the war -- the siege of Yorktown. He was again in command of his own troops, working again under the command of his friend Washington, when the American forces, aided by the French fleet, forced General Cornwallis to surrender.
With the war won, Lafayette returned to France. There he played a roll in the revolution, but was forced to flee in disappointment as hopes of emulating the American experiment led first to bloodshed, a restored monarchy, Napoleon's empire, and monarchy again.
In 1824, he returned to America. To say that he was welcomed back with enthusiasm would be a terrible understatement. Huge crowds turned out. Nearly 80% of the population of New York City pressed to the docks to great him. Everywhere he went, there were parties and grand celebrations. He ventured across the country as far as St. Louis, and all along his route parks, streets, cities and counties were named in his honor.
(The remarkable story of Layfette's last journey to America, as told by the always terrific Sarah Vowell, can be heard here.)
He returned to France and died in 1834. Lafayette was buried in the Cimetière de Picpus. His coffin was covered in dirt carried over from Bunker Hill. All through World War II, even when France was under the control of the Nazis, an American flag was draped across his grave. Three United States navel vessels have worn his name.
In World War I, as United States forces arrived in France, a contingent of General Pershing's forces hurried to the Cimetière de Picpus soon after their arrival. There they knelt on the transplanted American soil that covered one of America's great heroes. It was Lieutenant Colonel Charles E. Stanton who said what they all felt: Lafayette, nous voilà!
Lafayette, we are here.
They had come to repay the debt of a grateful country to a man who had no small part in its birth.