Boarding ships the British army fled Boston. The siege ended. Leading soldiers strung out in long lines on dirt roads across Connecticut, George Washington raced south expecting the British to attack New York.

The British landed in Staten Island – Washington blundered, thought they’d attack Manhattan. They attacked Long Island.

Rushing soldiers across the East River to Brooklyn Washington made a second mistake: Left a pass undefended. Marching through the pass at night the British flanked him, trapped the American army in a 3-mile strip of land with its back to the river.

British warships were ready to sail into the river at dawn, cut off the Americans’ line of retreat, seal their fate – a northeaster roared in, the northeast wind stopped the warships; American soldiers stood in trenches in water up to their waists.

Washington made a hard choice: Waiting for darkness, at nine o’clock at night he started loading soldiers into flat-bottomed boats to escape across the river – the storm stopped him; suddenly, two hours later, the wind changed, blowing from the southwest. Standing on a Brooklyn pier Washington watched soldiers climb into boats; in the darkness boats crossed, recrossed, the river. Part of the army escaped. But just before dawn thousands of soldiers were still trapped in Brooklyn, waiting for the British attack.

As the sun rose a fog so thick a man couldn’t see the man standing six feet from him descended on Brooklyn. Hidden in fog the last regiment escaped. And Washington crossed the river. The fog lifted. Amazed British soldiers stared at empty trenches.

We see Washington’s face on a dollar bill but who remembers Washington calmly standing on a Brooklyn pier at night during a northeaster, two wind changes, or the fog that saved the American army? Three gifts. Now forgotten. Lost history.

(David McCullough tells these stories in his book 1776.)