'Character is forged on the anvil of adversity,' so says the old saw. One problem with acquiring character is how, where, and when does it occur in men? We live in an era of endless excuses and artful dodges. Wouldn't it be refreshing to read of a time when men didn't mouth lame phrases such as 'Mistakes were made,' or 'I misspoke.' There was a time when the mark of a man was measured by the way that he'd handled hard times.

America loves a take-charge leader, the one that says 'Follow me,' and acts decisively. When the pundits run dry on inspiration for their motivational talks, they often turn to the pages of American history. There lie stirring examples of men who didn't blink, men who didn't flinch when times got tough -- Washington at Valley Forge, Martin L. King in the Birmingham jail, John Glenn inside Friendship 7, or R. E. Lee on the Pedregal.

One thing these men shared, besides a prominent place in American history, is that each was challenged in severe and unconventional ways.

George Washington did not have to suffer the same level of hardship as his soldiers at Valley Forge; however, he chose to do so. Washington rode out the winter of 1777-'78 in a rude farm house with his soldiers encamped in makeshift huts. When Spring thaw came, survivors of that harsh winter were willing to follow their general anywhere since he'd endured with them freezing temps, a starvation diet, and a smallpox outbreak.

Similarly, Martin L. King did not have to go to Birmingham and interpose himself into the bus boycott there in December of 1955. He already had his hands full with similar discrimination issues in Atlanta. When King landed in a Birmingham jail, he petitioned the U.S. Supreme Court using a scrap sheet of paper and a stub of a pencil. Yet, Martin King's 'Letter From Birmingham Jail' is treasured today as one of America's great expressions of freedom.

Likewise, who can forget John Glenn's humming 'From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli' as he re-entered earth's atmosphere in a tiny, scorched space capsule whose heat shield had failed to deploy! The searing heat from his wildly bucking fireball in the sky did not daunt this early astronaut as he manhandled the controls on re-entry on that February day in 1962. This was the man who'd flown 59 combat missions in the Pacific in World War II and 63 missions in the Korean War -- some of the latter flown with the legendary Ted Williams as his wingman. No one had to guess if John Glenn had 'the right stuff.'

Washington, King, and Glenn's example are well-known episodes of great men's lives -- foreshadowing flashes that occurred before they achieved lasting fame. Yet, few have heard the story of Robert E. Lee and the Pedregal.

Somehow that story illustrating great moral courage has slipped away from the pages of history. With many public servants, it's expedient to settle for the easier wrong rather than to attempt the harder right.

In 1847 the United States Army was deeply involved in the Mexican War. In the struggle for annexation of southwestern territory north of the Rio Grande as partial fulfillment of the grand Manifest Destiny scheme of the Union, Congress determined to make this war a showpiece of American might. Congress desired many things from this war, one of which was to demonstrate to Europe that America had come of age politically, economically, and militarily.

Defeating the wily Mexicans was not a cakewalk for the armies of Zachary Taylor and Winfield Scott despite the near unlimited budget that Congress allowed them.

Just southwest of Mexico City in the Spring of 1847, 'Old Fuss ‘n Feathers' himself, General Winfield Scott, needed to bring together immediately his widely separated army units so that they could strike Santa Anna near Contreras. The problem was that Scott's forces had to link up with those of General Persifor Smith, and Smith was situated miles away across an impassable lava field five miles wide. Seven officers had failed one after the other to slip through the sniper-concealed, snake-infested, razor-sharp field of rock. Scott turned to an aide and said, 'Bring up Captain [Robert E] Lee.'

Lee, a 40-year-old engineering graduate of West Point had been on the staff of Zachary Taylor before Winfield Scott transferred him to his own command group. Lee arrived after nightfall and was presented with the daunting challenge that 7 good infantry officers before him had failed to accomplish -- the crossing of the Pedregal with orders for Persifor Smith.

Alone, lightly armed, and moving mostly on his hands and knees through briars, razor-edged lava rock, and rattle snake-infested terrain, Lee made a series of diagonals across the five-mile valley until he discovered that an ancient burrow trail could be used by a single file of infantry to reach the far side where Smith was posted.

Captain Lee located Smith, delivered the important set of orders and was able to return to Scott before daylight, mission accomplished. In the dispatches to President Polk, Winfield Scott wrote that Lee rendered 'the greatest feat of physical and moral courage performed by any individual, in my knowledge, in the campaign.'

Forty-two years later another president, McKinley, needed to send an urgent message to Major General Calixto Ramon Garcia, a Cuban ally of the United States in the Spanish-American War. Garcia was hiding out somewhere deep in the Cuban Sierra Maestra mountains. 'Send for Captain Rowan,' an aide said to McKinley. He's the only man alive who can find Garcia.

Andrew Summers Rowan, a Virginian and a West Point graduate, had heard the story of Lee on the Pedregal while at the military academy. 'Take a message to Garcia,' said McKinley -- and Rowan did the impossible, just as Lee had done years earlier.

In 2001, Helen Pinkerton published her poem, 'Crossing The Pedregal' in the Fall 2001 edition of the The Sewanee Review. Pinkerton's poem celebrates Lee's first act of renown.

Years later Elbert Hubbard captured Captain Rowan's courage with the line from his pamphlet 'A Message To Garcia,' with these words: 'It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing - 'Carry a message to Garcia!'

(Dr. Thomas B. Horton is a history teacher at Porter Gaud School. He lives in the Old Village of Mount Pleasant. See more columns online at www.moultrienews.com. Visit his Web site at www.historyslostmoments.com.)