This great body of men which had come to besiege Boston was able to shoot and dig.  That is about all they knew of the art of war.  Training had begun in earnest.  The sergeants were working with squads; Generals Lee and Ward and Green and Putnam and Sullivan with companies and regiments from daylight to dark.

Jack was particularly interested in Putnam—­a short, rugged, fat, white-haired farmer from Connecticut of bluff manners and nasal twang and of great animation for one of his years—­he was then fifty-seven.  He was often seen flying about the camp on a horse.  The young man had read of the heroic exploits of this veteran of the Indian wars.

Their mission finished, that evening Jack and Solomon called at General Washington’s headquarters.

[Illustration:  Jack Irons and Solomon Binkus with General George Washington.]

“General, Doctor Franklin told us to turn over the bosses and wagons to you,” said Solomon.  “He didn’t tell us what to do with ourselves ’cause ‘twasn’t necessary an’ he knew it.  We want to enlist.”

“For what term?”

“Till the British are licked.”

“You are the kind of men I need,” said Washington.  “I shall put you on scout duty.  Mr. Irons will go into my regiment of sharp shooters with the rank of captain.  You have told me of his training in Philadelphia.”

3

So the two friends were enlisted and began service in the army of
Washington.

A letter from Jack to his mother dated July 25, 1775, is full of the camp color: 

“General Charles Lee is in command of my regiment,” he writes.  “He is a rough, slovenly old dog of a man who seems to bark at us on the training ground.  He has two or three hunting dogs that live with him in his tent and also a rare gift of profanity which is with him everywhere—­save at headquarters.

“To-day I saw these notices posted in camp: 

“’Punctual attendance on divine service is required of all not on actual duty.’

“‘No burning of the pope allowed.’

“‘Fifteen stripes for denying duty.’

“‘Ten for getting drunk.’

“‘Thirty-nine for stealing and desertion.’

“Rogues are put in terror, lazy men are energized.  The quarters are kept clean, the food is well cooked and in plentiful supply, but the British over in town are said to be getting hungry.”

Early in August a London letter was forwarded to Jack from Philadelphia.  He was filled with new hope as he read these lines: 

“Dearest Jack:  I am sailing for Boston on one of the next troop ships to join my father.  So when the war ends—­God grant it may be soon!—­you will not have far to go to find me.  Perhaps by Christmas time we may be together.  Let us both pray for that.  Meanwhile, I shall be happier for being nearer you and for doing what I can to heal the wounds made by this wretched war.  I am going to be a nurse in a hospital.  You see the truth is that since I met you, I like all men better, and I shall love to be trying to relieve their sufferings . . .”