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From the bestselling author of the Liberation Trilogy comes this extraordinary history of the American Revolution.
In June 1773, King George III attended a grand celebration of his reign over the greatest, richest empire since ancient Rome. Less than two years later, Britain’s bright future turned dark: after a series of provocations, the king’s soldiers took up arms against his rebellious colonies in America. The war would last eight years, and though at least one in ten of the Americans who fought for independence would die for that cause, the prize was valuable beyond measure: freedom from oppression and the creation of a new republic.
Rick Atkinson, author of the Pulitzer Prize–winning An Army at Dawn and two other superb books about the Second World War has long been admired for his unparalleled ability to write deeply researched, stunningly vivid narrative history. In this new book, he tells the story of the first twenty-one months of America’s violent effort to forge a new nation. From the battles at Lexington and Concord in spring 1775 to those at Trenton and Princeton in winter 1776–77, American militiamen and then the ragged Continental Army take on the world’s most formidable fighting force and struggle to avoid annihilation.
It is a gripping saga alive with astonishing characters: Henry Knox, the former bookseller with an uncanny understanding of artillery; Nathanael Greene, the blue-eyed bumpkin who becomes one of America’s greatest battle captains; Benjamin Franklin, the self-made man who proves himself the nation’s wiliest diplomat; George Washington, the commander in chief who learns the difficult art of leadership when the war seems all but lost.
Full of riveting details and untold stories, The British Are Coming is a tale of heroes and knaves, of sacrifice and blunder, of redemption and profound suffering. Rick Atkinson has given stirring new life to the first act of America’s creation drama.
782 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 14, 2019
The limits of the musket even in close combat were clear enough after the daylong battle [of Lexington and Concord]. Later scholars calculated that at least seventy-five thousand American rounds had been fired, using well over a ton of powder, but only one bullet in almost three hundred had hit home. The shot heard round the world likely missed. Fewer than one militiaman in every ten who engaged the column drew British blood, despite the broad target of massed redcoats. A combat bromide held that it took a man’s weight in bullets to kill him…
So slender that he seemed to lack shoulders, he had a receding chin, high forehead, tiny hands, and small, deep-set eyes; to call Lee homely was to insult homely men. “His nose is so large,” a German officer wrote, “that its shadow darkens the other half of his face.” Despite the fancy uniforms, he was habitually unkempt and reputedly owned but three shirts, each in such disrepair that he’d named them Rag, Tag, and Bobtail. The dogs trailed him everywhere, including a favorite Pomeranian…who sometimes sat with him at table, where they communed in what he called “the language of doggism…”
[Colonel Johann] Rall tried again to marshal his men…But the day was lost. American soldiers flocked through the cross streets to take firing perches in cellars, upper windows, and along the fence at Pott’s tanyard by the bark house and stone currying shop. Chipping their flints for a clean surface, picking out touchholes, and drying their priming pans, they fired, reloaded, and fired again, deliberately targeting officers…The clap of musketry echoed down King Street as hundreds of pullets pinged off walls, cobbles, and headstones. Wounded men dragged themselves into alleys and parlors; others bled to death in the gutter…