This is what the history books will say.
A strong, brave nation sent its army overseas. Out of a keenly-felt sense of responsibility for the people under its care, there came a righteous desire to suppress the insurgents that troubled the peace. That army was the best in the world; professional and well-trained, it fought ethically, obeying the rules of war.
The insurgents did not. They fought dirty. Their leaders incited violence with half-truths and lies about the army that was there to help civilians and reestablish the rule of law.
Oh, the army from overseas won most of its battles. That was foreordained. But in the hearts of the civilians they fought amongst — that they fought for — bitterness and hatred took root and grew like strangling ivy. The longer the army stayed in-country, the more they were met with taunts, with narrowed eyes glaring at the uniforms and guns and flags borne so proudly by the soldiers. The moral mistakes of angry young officers inflamed further hatred. The hoped-for peace stayed stubbornly out of reach; the national dialogue was poisoned.
The army fought for a good and noble purpose, but the cost was finally too much for their homeland to bear. They won the battles, but they lost the war.
And if you’ve read your history, you know how this story ends: the army returned to England, and the thirteen colonies learned to govern themselves.