In July 1775, General George Washington rode into Cambridge, Massachusetts, to lead an army of 16,000. These men, Washington announced, were “all the Troops of the several Colonies,” thereafter to be known as “the Troops of the United Provinces of North America.” Washington went on to say that he “hoped that all Distinctions of Colonies will be laid aside; so that one and the same spirit may animate the whole.”

It was easier said than done. The country they were fighting to establish had no national identity or culture—no flag, no anthem, no touchstone around which citizens could rally. What did it mean to be American? “Not British” wasn’t enough. Over the next eight years, Washington and the Army built the foundations of that national identity—first by asserting the right to legitimate use of force, which is one of the most important powers of a sovereign entity, and then by creating traditions that carry symbolic significance and offer shared experiences, and establishing institutions that represented all 13 states. The process was messy and imperfect in the late 18th century and remains incomplete today.

Most 18th-century nations were based on a single religion, ethnicity, race, or cultural tradition. Their governments were secured with military force or inheritance, and often backed by claims of divine blessing. None of those conditions existed in the colonies. In 1774, when the First Continental Congress gathered in Carpenters’ Hall, in Philadelphia, more delegates had visited London than the city that would become our nation’s first seat of government. Each colony had spent decades building economic, intellectual, and emotional ties with Great Britain, not with one another. Culturally, the colonists saw themselves as Britons. As late as the mid-1760s, many called themselves King George III’s most loyal subjects, demonstrated through enthusiastic purchasing of teapots and art prints depicting royal marriages, births, and anniversaries.

If anything, the colonies viewed one another as competitors and battled over rights to waterways, their westernmost lands, and defensive support from the mother country. Washington himself shared these provincial loyalties and had a low opinion of many of his fellow colonists. The morning after arriving in camp, in July 1775, he conducted a review of the Continental Army units and the defensive positions on the hills surrounding Boston Harbor. He concluded, he later wrote, that the troops were “exceeding dirty & nasty people” led by indifferent officers with an “unaccountable kind of stupidity.”

But the war would change Washington’s view of these soldiers, and he came to respect the sacrifice and valor of his troops from all 13 states. The war changed the soldiers themselves. In the peace that followed, veterans became central to America’s nation-building project.

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Before the war, colonists had celebrated the King’s birthday. During the war, those celebrations were replaced by festivities honoring Washington’s birthday. In 1779, the Virginia Gazette reported on “a very elegant entertainment” held at “the Raleigh tavern by the inhabitants of this city, to celebrate the anniversary of that day which gave birth to General George Washington, Commander in Chief of the armies of the United States, the saviour of his country.” On February 11, 1781, the French allied forces joined in the fun. “Yesterday was the Anniversary of your Excellency’s birth day,” the commander of the French forces wrote to Washington. “We will celebrate it with the sole regret that your Excellency be not a Witness of the effusion and gladness of our hearts.” The King had served as a unifying figure around whom Britons could rally, and his birthday celebrations had been an important social tool used to reinforce British identity. Washington was a useful substitute.

The general also introduced a new flag. In 1775, the Continental Colors, also known as the Grand Union Flag, which featured 13 red and white stripes with the Union Jack in the upper left corner, was raised by several vessels in Philadelphia and generals in Massachusetts. But any flag that featured the Union Jack could be confused with the British flag on the battlefield. For his headquarters, Washington adopted instead a dark-blue command flag with 13 evenly dispersed white stars. He could have chosen any number of military symbols and evocative images, but chose a flag that made an explicit statement about national unity.

The Army’s shared experiences made that unity reality. In the 18th century, Americans rarely traveled more than a few miles from home, but soldiers fought battles in Massachusetts and South Carolina, and in most states in between. They experienced different cultures, ate different foods, and interacted with people from different walks of life. They also regularly went without food, sufficient clothing, or pay. In summer, they slept in tents and were tormented by flies and mosquitoes; in winter, they huddled, shivering, around miserly fires. Their suffering blurred local loyalties and fostered new ties.

As the end of the war loomed, veteran officers built cultural and political bodies such as the Institution of the Society of the Cincinnati. When the Confederation Congress couldn’t afford to pay soldiers their back pay or provide pensions for the wounded, the society stepped in to help care for struggling veterans, widows, and their children. It also promoted the values of the Revolution. In the years after the war, the states devolved into competitive bickering. The 2,270 members of the society called on their fellow citizens to cherish their national identity as the reward for winning independence.

These efforts were not uncontroversial. Critics accused the society of trying to establish an aristocracy to control civil and military institutions—one of many disagreements over the evolution of America’s identity in the postwar years. The national coalition had largely held together while the states had been battling a shared foe, but deep divisions soon emerged.

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Anti-Federalists preferred a decentralized national government with most power reserved for the states; Federalists advocated for stronger central government and an energetic executive. Not all Federalists were veterans, but many veterans, especially officers, became Federalists, having suffered as a result of Congress’s weaknesses. They understood the consequences of decentralized government.

Some of Washington’s favorite officers and aides pushed for a national convention in Philadelphia in the summer of 1787, and pestered and pleaded with Washington to attend. They knew his unifying presence was essential for the proceedings to succeed. At the Constitutional Convention, veterans led the push for a new federal government featuring a powerful single executive. They believed the future of the nation depended on the government’s ability to raise funds, protect its borders, manage internal disputes, and dictate foreign policy. If the government failed, so too would the republic, and the American identity would cease to exist. Later, veterans would serve as congressmen, senators, Cabinet secretaries, and executive-branch appointees at much higher rates than civilians.

Washington and his soldiers would not recognize much about 21st-century America. And yet our divisions, the battles over who counts as an ideal citizen, and the challenges of building a nation based on ideas would feel remarkably familiar. So would the debate over the Army’s role in protecting our democracy. Washington and his officers knew the risk an army posed to a civilian-led republic. They were determined to protect the institutions and our founding values, rather than destroy them. Their example of deference to civilian authority remains one of the core principles of the armed forces today. The anniversary of Washington taking command is a reminder that the Army’s effort to forge a lasting American bond was just the beginning of a long and difficult process. Their goal is our goal, and it’s still worth fighting for.