Many wars are remembered for decisive battles. The American Revolution survived because one army refused to be destroyed.
George Washington understood that reality during the darkest months of the Revolutionary War. In 1776, the American rebellion stood on the edge of collapse. The Continental Army had been defeated repeatedly, and the British believed the conflict might soon end with a single decisive blow.
The Night the Revolution Almost Ended
On the night of August 29, 1776, George Washington had not slept in two days.
His army, 9,000 men, was trapped on Brooklyn Heights. British forces had driven them there after a crushing defeat, routing the Continental Army through the undefended Jamaica Pass and shattering its forward lines in a matter of hours. Now the survivors were pressed against the East River, the Royal Navy controlling the surrounding waters, British troops digging siege lines just 600 yards away. Captain Sir George Collier, commanding HMS Rainbow off Long Island, recorded in his journal that all of Washington's men "must be killed or taken prisoners. . . . If we become masters of this body of rebels, the war is at an end."
Washington had other plans.
He ordered a silent evacuation. Through the night, Colonel John Glover's regiment of Marblehead fishermen and sailors rowed small boats back and forth across the East River in darkness and rain. Oars were muffled in cloth. Washington himself rode the lines through the night, then stood at the landing to supervise each embarkation, cheering, calming, and encouraging his troops through what one historian called one of the most difficult trials a soldier can endure.
By dawn, the army was still not fully across.
Then the fog came. A thick morning mist settled over the harbor so dense that one soldier wrote you could scarcely discern a man at six yards distance. The final battalions crossed under its cover. Washington was the last man to board the last boat, with British forces already closing in on the shore behind him.
In London, bells rang across the city, candles were lit in windows, and King George III awarded General Howe the Order of the Bath. The rebellion, it seemed, had been broken.
It had not.
His Only Job Was Not to Lose
The fog that morning was luck. The decision to cross was strategy.
What Washington understood that Howe did not was this: the army was the revolution. Lose it, and everything collapsed. Keep it alive, and the rebellion could survive any number of battlefield defeats. As he wrote to Congress during the campaign, "We should on all occasions avoid a general action, or put anything to the risk, unless compelled by necessity."
Over the following months, his forces were pushed across New Jersey toward the Delaware River. Soldiers marched without proper shoes. Enlistments were expiring. Thomas Paine described the moment as "the times that try men's souls." Yet the rebellion refused to die.
Henry Clinton's own narrative of the campaigns returns again and again to the same frustration: the Americans would not be brought to a decisive engagement. The British captured New York and Philadelphia. They won nearly every engagement. But as long as Washington's army survived, Britain faced another campaign season, another round of ships and soldiers and money crossing 3,000 miles of Atlantic. The conflict widened as France entered the war in 1778, followed by Spain and the Dutch Republic. Winning battles did not end the war. They lost because they could not convert battlefield success into strategic closure.
The British controlled the battlefield. The Americans controlled time.
What Washington Would Recognize
Washington's endurance strategy depended on one condition: the army had to survive. That condition is worth keeping in mind as the United States wages war against Iran in the spring of 2026.
When this piece was first drafted, the US-Iran confrontation looked like a recognizable asymmetric contest. Iran possessed missiles, drones, and regional proxy networks designed to complicate and prolong any conflict with a technologically superior adversary. The strategic logic seemed familiar: not battlefield dominance but cumulative cost and political attrition.
Events since February 28 have, if anything, deepened the parallel.
US and Israeli forces launched surprise airstrikes killing Supreme Leader Khamenei and numerous other Iranian officials. Iran's missiles, nuclear infrastructure, air defenses, navy, and proxy command networks have all been severely degraded. Yet US intelligence assessments suggest Iran's regime will likely remain in place, weakened but more hard-line, with the IRGC exerting greater control. Atlantic Council analysts warn that Iran's long history of asymmetric conflict suggests the kinetic portion of this war could be just a start.
Washington lost battles, too. He kept fighting.
This is where Washington's lesson bites hardest. The British did not lose because Washington outfought them. They lost because they could not end the war on terms that justified its cost. Destroying Iran's conventional military resolves one question and immediately raises another: what does strategic closure actually look like, and is the United States prepared for the long, irregular campaign that may follow the airstrikes?
That question, as of this writing, has no public answer.
The Fog Lifts. The Question Remains.
Strategic success is not always about imposing outcomes. Sometimes it is about denying them.
Washington's campaign offers a reminder that wars can turn not on moments of victory but on the refusal to accept defeat.
Some conflicts are not decided by who wins but by who cannot be defeated.
Edward Saltzberg is the Executive Director of the Security and Sustainability Forum and writes The Stability Brief.
