They called Steuben the Drillmaster of the Revolution
His cabin so secluded and far from the people....so silent the trees...only footsteps in the leaves announce a visitors arrival.
The days of glory are gone...yet one wonders if the future will remember one such as he...
The birds are even silent as the wind suddenly lifts leaves as if to warn of the storm ahead...
Yet war storms come and go and never seem to end.
Men march to death as they did then ...and as they probably will forever......
Yet war storms come and go and never seem to end.
Men march to death as they did then ...and as they probably will forever......
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