About mid-February, Putnam wrote to Washington, who had been constantly and urgently pressing him to complete the work without delay, that "the batteries near the water, and the fort to cover them, are laid out. The latter is, within walls, 600 yards around, 21 feet base, 14 feet high, the talus two inches to the foot. This I fear is too large to be completed by the time expected." Even his placid disposition was by this time slightly ruffled at the scarcely veiled distrust of his capabilities by his chief, who had veered about with the wind blowing from New York, and seemed to trust him no longer. His letter begins stiffly: "The state of affairs now at this post, you will please to observe, is as follows," and after this business has been stated, he goes on to give some of the reasons for delay. One of his regiments was at White Plains, "under inoculation with the smallpox. Dubois's regiment is unfit to be ordered on duty, there being not one blanket in the regiment. Very few have either a shoe or a shirt, and most of them have neither stockings, breeches, or overalls.... Several hundred men are rendered useless, merely for want of necessary apparel, as no clothing is permitted to be stopped at this post." No complaint was made, but merely a statement of facts; for Putnam must have known that many of the soldiers under his commander were at that very time half starved and half naked at Valley Forge. The day after writing this letter to Washington, having secured permission for a brief furlough, General Putnam went home to attend to private affairs which demanded his attention. He had applied for this leave of absence two months previously, but before receiving it had attended to the exigent matter of fortifying West Point, like the good soldier that he was. Since he last left home much had happened to distract and break him down, including the loss of his wife by death, and the loss of Washington's friendly support, through no fault of his own. He was deeply grieved over the change in the commander's attitude toward him, as well as puzzled to account for it, knowing full well that he had done nothing to incur his displeasure, now so plainly manifested, not alone to General Putnam but to others. The change was probably due to their radical differences of temperament, habits of life and education. While Washington the soldier recognized the sterling qualities of Old Put, the veteran fighter, yet Washington the aristocratic planter shrank from contact with Putnam the blunt, and at times perhaps uncouth-appearing, farmer. Writing about that time, a surgeon in the American army said: "This is my first interview with this celebrated hero, Putnam. In his person he is corpulent and clumsy, but carries a bold, undaunted front. He exhibits little of the refinements of a well-educated gentleman, but much of the character of the veteran soldier."