The Cold Crucible by Lin Stone

In America today it takes the crackle of fireworks to remind us how freedom began. The parades begin, and children dance beside the waving flags. Eloquence rises to the occasion in parks and mansions all across the land. And unless we think real hard we forget the price of our darkest hours, and simply remember those stirring words which only urged freedom onward to its birth. *

Freedom Began In America,

not with the rhetoric, not with a chant ringing in the hall, not with the humorous gestures of gleaming paint, no, not even with the pledges of a few eternal souls. For these were simply empty phrases carelessly flung into the wind until the common man became willing to make them the foundation of something real.

Freedom wasn't born with the forward surge of those who flocked to wear the uniforms, nor with those untried firebrands who swore to fight the battle through. It was born in the ranks of those who served on, after realizing all hope for victory had vanished, but stubbornly refused to give up hope.

The birth of Freedom began in the cold crucible of Valley Forge where it was mutely admitted that all was lost; when there was nothing but rags to cover freezing ears, and frayed blankets to defend bleeding toes. In this nation's deepest throes of anxiety, when all about us was a lost cause and the battle gone far in disarray, then only did Freedom begin.

Any gentlemen volunteers who have a mind to take an agreeable voyage in this pleasant season of the year may, by entering on board the above ship Ranger, meet with every civility they can possibly expect, and for a further encouragement depend on the first opportunity being embraced to award each one agreeable to his merit. All reasonable traveling expenses will be allowed, and the advance money be paid on their appearance on board. Signed John Paul Jones.

Mere men stood there, forsaken and alone. Even the enemy ignored them, for they were helpless, and beaten. The chant for Freedom had died away to a forgotten whisper. A few dirty men were all that was left to support the flaming rhetoric while leader, after patriotic leader went into hiding. They were the ones who then decided that Freedom is worth every price, and paid it. For the wondrous fires of Freedom were bought for us by men who stayed in the cold crucible when there was no wood left to burn.

Those people, warm in Boston, could clink their empty glasses and do without their dash of wine for a day as some symbolic gesture of hidden defiance. But the birth of Freedom required something far more than a symbolic gesture. It required the determination of common people, still willing to stand together in the cause while lashed by the howling wind and bickering cold. They too knew, that Freedom was lost. But they stayed. All reasonable hope for the dream of Freedom was shattered, yet those who served there, served on.

They were dirty with the grime of surviving, so weak they stumbled time and again, yet refused to stumble backwards when they fell. They struggled to rise, to defend a post no one was attacking, and refused to leave.

All across the land, even our friends knew; stirring words were not enough; dreams of freedom could not greet the dawn without a lightened heart to beat them through. The army of freedom was beaten, beaten. Only a pitiful few struggled on there against the reality of a war lost and dreams gone cold. But those who stayed, those who refused to quit even though the battle was done, those who struggled upwards again and clawed their way to a standing post, those precious few would not let the precious blood of Freedom wash away. They are the ones who kept the dream alive, by staying, just by standing still even when all was lost.

They were the beginning, their spirits cradled our freedom's birth. When all the dreams depended on them they were found doing all that mortal men could do. They stood firm in America's darkest hour.

No matter how grave the crucible, those who love Freedom will not wash away. Those who love Freedom will stand -- Stand when all hope is gone. Amid the shocks of battle and far from the gleaming shore, those who love Freedom will stand when mere men should serve no more.