Sacrifice necessary as part of service

  • Published
  • By Lt. Col. Margaret Martin
  • 571st Mobility Support Advisory Squadron
TRAVIS AIR FORCE BASE, Calif. --  
The nation's appreciation for its military past, particularly the events of World War II, have been informed by the likes of the popular television series "Band of Brothers" and more personal accounts such as "Unbroken," Laura Hillenbrand's account of WW II POW Louis Zamperini.

A recent conversation with a historian friend reminded me of an episode from the American Revolution, a little-known story about then-Gen. George Washington, commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, and his role in ending what is known as the Newburgh Conspiracy. This event, somewhat a footnote to the larger story of the war, offers a chance to think about our own military service.

The Newburgh Conspiracy encompassed the events of several months, from December 1872 to March 1783, culminating in Washington's address to his troops on March 15, 1783. The issue at hand was pay, or the lack of it. During the course of the revolution, soldiers' pay and the award of any sort of pension had proved a contentious issue. Not only was the Continental Congress desperate for money to pay its army, individual state legislatures also balked at the cost of war.

Although the British were defeated at Yorktown and peace negotiations were under way, the Army stood ready in case it was needed. In late December, Army officers encamped near Newburgh, New York, petitioned Congress for pay. Their concern was twofold: They had been unpaid for several months and were concerned that the pension promised by Congress after the war was in jeopardy of being revoked. They hoped for one lump sum in lieu of pensions, as a guarantee of payment for their service.

The officers' grievances were tied to real concerns for post-war financial stability and entitlement to payment for time served. However, their petition became tied to larger political maneuverings of the time. Those maneuverings were designed to strengthen the power of the nascent central government.

Nevertheless, between December and March, correspondence between various members of Congress and the Army passed back and forth. By early March 1783, a cabal of officers was ready to make a stand. They would not disband the army as intended until they had been paid. This move was designed to put sufficient pressure on Congress to force it to comply with the officers' will. Many suspected they would even march on Philadelphia.

Washington was abreast of the rumors and intervened to head off the military revolt. He arrived, unannounced, at the meeting where the leaders of the cabal planned to consolidate support for their demands to Congress. He pre-empted their speeches with one of his own, where he chastised the group of assembled men for considering abandoning their country and turning against Congress. His formal, carefully written comments failed to diffuse the crowd of frustrated officers.

To assure his men of Congress's intent to the right thing, Washington offered a letter from one of his political correspondents. He labored through the first paragraph. With a sigh of frustration, he reached into his vest and to the shock of all those gathered, drew out a pair of reading glasses. Few in his inner circle even knew he used them. In an offhanded manner, he apologized and murmured that he had "grown gray in the service of his country and now found himself going blind." In that instant, Washington stemmed any chance of military revolt. His unexpected show of vulnerability moved many in the room to tears. Their great general's personal, physical sacrifice to his country surely shamed all those ready to act against Congress. With a few simple words, Washington effectively ended a plan that brought the United States as close to a military coup as it has ever faced.

This story is a favorite, not to burnish Washington's reputation, but because it offers a chance to think about our own service. To me, this episode is a reminder that military service requires sacrifice. The men of the Continental Army had gone without pay, without food and supplies. They had been ejected from New York in the war's opening and suffered through a horrific winter at Valley Forge. Some lost homes, farms and families during the course of the war. Along the way, they watched friends and neighbors profit from wartime activities.

Furthermore, they served a nation that largely looked down on military service and that was highly distrustful of a standing army. Yet they served and prevailed with the help of key allies, over the world's mightiest military.

Our own service in today's all-volunteer force still requires sacrifice. Most of us have served away from family and friends, often for extended periods. We have all missed birthdays, ball games and other important events. Many of us know someone who has been physically or emotionally changed by his or her military service. Just like the soldiers in the Revolutionary War and service members in every war since, we have lost friends and colleagues those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Sacrifice is a constant for those who choose military service. I use the word choose deliberately. In today's American military construct, we serve among volunteers. Volunteers who understand what they may sacrifice in the service of their nation. For that choice and your service, I say thank you. It is a privilege to serve with each and every one of you.