Dr. Benjamin Rush exclaimed. George Washington looked around at all the sick and dying soldiers, the ravages of this winter of deprivation, and he felt indescribably sad. “So many men…” he let out a sigh. “Frostbite… pneumonia… high fever… malnutrition…” “Hmm…” “So General, to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Ben, you have a Private Turner here, is that correct?” “Yes General.” “Can he speak?” “Well, I’ll let you see for yourself.” And he led Washington to Turner’s cot. “Private Turner…” Washington began. “Maaal…” “What?” “He’s quite ill, General,” said Dr. Rush. “He’s been in and out of consciousness.” “Private Turner, can you hear me?” At that moment, Mal Turner opened his eyes and saw General George Washington standing above his bed. “General Wa… Sir!” “Easy, soldier…” Washington glanced at the doctor and then looked back at Private Turner. “Can you tell me what happened last night?” “Last night, sir?”
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