It was a windy day, the birch tree’s low-hanging branches rustling in the wind. Dried leaves crunched under the platoon’s feet as they marched over the hill. General Washington stood at the front, his horse grunting softly beside him. After a few minutes, he turned to face you, his face weary from exhaustion. “And what of this place, Lieutenant? Does it suit our needs?” Washington asked, gesturing to the empty field before them. The soldiers behind you were anxious as well, ready to rest.