The General's Christmas (4 page)

"See for yourself," Widow Harris smiled,
"She's awake."

Corporal Harris nodded and went up the narrow
stairway to the first bedroom. The ceiling was low and he had to
duck to get through the doorway. A window let in enough light to
see Miss Clark's features, sharply contrasted against a white
pillow. She was sitting up against two pillows with a woolen shawl
over her shoulders.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Clark. Are you feeling
better today?"

She smiled and his heart quickened, her brown
eyes captivating him.

"Yes, I am. Thank you. But we must be quiet.
Elizabeth is still sleeping."

"Then I'll come closer to
keep my voice low," he said, approaching her hesitantly.

"Widow Harris tells me that you are getting
ready to leave," Anna said.

"Yes. We're marching tonight to Trenton. We
hope to surprise the enemy and take the town."

Anna's eyes widened, "Will you look for my
father?"

Baylor nodded, "Yes. If he's
there, we'll find him."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid that something terrible may have
happened to him."

Baylor didn't know how to answer that. It was
true that the enemy took prisoners but often found it more
convenient to kill them than to feed and house them.

"I'm sure that if they intended to kill your
father, they wouldn't have taken him with them," he assured
her.

She gave a small smile, "I certainly hope
you're right. I won't rest until he's found. If you do find him,
will you bring him back here?"

Baylor nodded, "Yes, if at all possible. You
have my word."

She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of
relief.

"Thank you!"

He nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait!" she said, sitting up, "Must you
go?"

Encouraged by her interest, he smiled.

"Soon, but not yet."

"Please, stay a moment. It's been so quiet up
here, and I don't know when I'll see you again. Will you be coming
back tomorrow?"

"That hasn't been decided yet."

She nodded and looked into his brown eyes. He
was a little older than she, and impressive in his dark blue and
buff uniform. Something about his eyes drew her in. They seemed
kind and gentle.

"How long have you been in the army?" she
asked.

"About a year and a half," he replied, "Ever
since the battles at Concord and Lexington."

Her eyes widened, "That's a long time. Have
you fought on the battle field?"

"Yes, of course. From Boston we marched to
New York, and then here to New Jersey. We fought many battles along
the way."

"It must be very frightening," Anna
shuddered, and said, "After what we went through at the farm, I
can't imagine fighting men like that."

His face darkened, "They had no right to
treat you that way. They should have left you alone."

She sighed, "I wish they'd
never come. But others have been attacked, too. Most of the
families have moved out of Bordentown and Trenton. They abandoned
their homes and fled. My father wouldn't do that. We had nowhere
else to go, and he wanted to stay and protect our farm."

"It was a noble thought, but perhaps not
practical in this war," Baylor answered.

She looked into his eyes and said with
sincerity, "I pray that you'll be safe tonight. I will pray
constantly until your return with Papa."

Baylor smiled at the thought, "Thank you,
Miss Clark."

"Please, call me Anna."

He smiled again, "Anna…I like the name."

"What's your name, Corporal?"

"George Baylor. And please, call me
George."

She smiled openly and nodded, "I will,
George. God speed you on your march."

He smiled and nodded his
leave. Anna Clark had lifted his spirits and given him a reason to
fight. He vowed to extract revenge on the Hessians. The time had
come to drive them back or kill them all. Washington's password for
this operation came to his mind: Victory or Death!

Chapter 4

The officers had synchronized their watches
at the meeting on the previous night. The American army under
Washington would be divided into three forces, and they would all
attack Trenton at the same time, at five o'clock in the morning.
There was a small celebration of Christmas--a short prayer meeting
held by the chaplain before the evening meal. But as the men
gathered later to form their columns, a few could be heard singing,
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen".

Washington straddled his
horse, taller than anyone near him. He watched over the assemblage
of the forces as the drums called them to gather. Wearing white
pieces of paper in their hats to identify them, the officers rode
from one end of the column to the other, keeping the company
together. The soldiers were on foot.

Washington listened to the words of men's
voices rising above the cold wind that had begun to blow. Four men
gathered together singing a verse he well knew:

"Fear not, then said the Angel,

Let nothing you affright,

This day is born a Savior,

Of virtue, power, and might;

So frequently to vanquish all,

The friends of Satan quite

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and
joy,

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy."

He wondered if this might be
a message from God, and he didn't stop them from singing. When they
marched to the ferry, all celebrations would stop. But in the
meantime, they celebrated their Christmas in song.

Soon, a drum roll brought every man to
attention and the singing stopped.

As Washington was about to join General
Greene's regiment, a messenger rode hastily toward him. The
messenger's horse skidded in the snow to a stop as the rider
quickly jumped off and handed Washington a letter.

"What a time for letters!" complained
Washington, "Who's it from?"

"General Gates, Sir!"
replied the messenger.

"Gates! Where is he?" Washington demanded. He
had written to Gates a while ago, and asked him to take command of
the attack on Trenton.

"He's in Philadelphia,
Sir."

"Philadelphia!" Washington boomed
angrily.

"Yes, Sir. I believe that
he's on his way to Congress."

"To
Congress?
" Washington bellowed
incredulously. He hastily tore open the letter and read it quickly
in the fading light of dusk. He held it tightly as the bitter wind
tried to tear it from his hands.

Gates had denied Washington's "request" to
join the force attacking Trenton, making this task even more
difficult. Suppressing the anger he felt, Washington stuffed the
letter into his jacket and returned to the matter at hand. If Gates
wouldn't help, they would accomplish the mission without him!

He dismissed the messenger and turned his
attention to the other officers. The entire force had been divided
into three parts. He would accompany General Greene's force north
to McConkey's and Johnson's ferries, about ten miles north of
Trenton. General Ewing would take his force to Trenton Ferry,
crossing the Delaware near the town. Colonel Cadwalader's force
would cross and land about twelve miles below the town, and then
march north to prevent the enemy from escaping, and to create a
diversion for the other attacking forces.

The operation seemed to
drag. Washington looked at his pocket watch and noted that it was
nearly four-thirty. They were already 30 minutes behind schedule.
He gave the order to march without the artillery, which had held up
the rest of the force. They would meet at the assembly area
later.

Like a line of lumbering
elephants, the armies moved out. Already the wind was growing
stronger as dusk turned to twilight. Clouds thickened overhead as
darkness grew. The smell of rain was in the air. Washington had
hoped for a clear, cloudless night lit by moonlight, but his hopes
were dwindling. If he were a superstitious man, he might have seen
this as a bad omen.

As they marched, the men
carried back packs with three days' rations, extra ammunition, and
blankets. Some wore their blankets over their shoulders against the
cold. Those who were lucky enough to have boots barely felt the
ice-covered ruts on the road. Others wearing only tattered shoes or
rags left a trail of blood from the painful cracks on their feet
where their dry skin had split open.

As it turned dark, rain
began to fall with a biting wind, soaking their coats and blankets.
Washington turned up his cloak collar against the rain, but
couldn't stop it from pelting his cheeks. He drew down his hat and
averted his face. Soldiers held onto their collars with one hand
and their weapons in the other, but there was no escape from the
cold, wet, lashing wind.

Corporal Baylor directed his horse beside the
general's.

"About five more miles to go
to the crossing, sir," he called out over the rain
storm.

Washington nodded his reply
and turned in his saddle to see the columns marching behind him.
They marched eight men across. The officers had warned the men not
to step out of formation on pain of death. The march was taking
longer than Washington had anticipated, and he was worried about
getting further behind schedule as they crossed the
river.

The rain storm assaulted
them from the northeast, in the same direction they were headed.
They plodded onward through the rain and wind that seemed to grow
stronger at every bend in the road. Men hugged their muskets close
to their bodies to keep the guns from getting wet. A waterlogged
musket would be useless during an attack.

The wind howled louder and more strong gusts
came steadily as the temperature dropped. It was now freezing, and
the rain changed to sleet. It stuck to their clothes and covered
the ground, making the road slippery. Horses stumbled to get a
foothold on the wet, icy ruts. The soldiers fared no better,
sliding against each other like skaters out of control.

It seemed an age before they reached the
assembly area. Here they waited for the rest of the regiment to
file in. Washington searched for Colonel Glover, the leader of the
New England regiments, which was comprised of fishermen and
experienced seamen. Washington trusted Glover's men to get the
boats loaded and cross the river. They would have to find open
water between the ice floes, or create their own channel.

"The boats are ready, sir!"
Glover shouted over the wind, "But this wind is like a hurricane!
It will be against us as we cross the river!"

Washington sat up on his horse, looking out
over the river. It was a wasteland of ice floes stacked upon each
other and frozen solid. The driving sleet made visibility less than
30 feet.

"Can we break through the ice?" he asked
Glover.

"Yes, Sir! We can use the
oars and poles to break through it!"

Washington stared at the mess on the river
and wondered if it were at all possible to cross. A gust of wind
nearly took him off his horse, and he turned the animal away from
the wind.

They were now two hours behind schedule.
General Ewing's force might be crossing now and Cadwalader's force
may have already crossed. There could be no turning back.

"Get the men into the boats. Put your best
crews in the first boats," Washington ordered.

"Yes, Sir!" Glover replied
and yelled orders to the men waiting at the ferry
crossing.

There was no moonlight to
guide them across the river. Someone carried a small lamp to light
the way to the ferries. While waiting for boats, soldiers huddled
around small campfires trying to keep warm. Washington knew that
the Hessians on the other side of the river were probably indoors
tonight, out of the bitter cold wind and sleet. But they might have
patrols running up and down the river, watching for raiding
parties. He hoped the fact that it was Christmas would deter them
from their regular watches.

Washington dismounted and handed the reins of
his horse to Corporal Baylor, saying, "When everyone has crossed,
we will go over."

Baylor nodded and led both horses to the
waiting ferry boats. After handing the horses to one of Colonel
Knox’s men, Baylor joined the men at a small campfire.

“We’re goin' over the river
to Trenton?” asked one of the men.

Baylor nodded. It was no longer a secret.
Rumors spread through army camps like yellow fever.

“Trenton’s not that big,” a
teenager boasted, “We’ll run those Hessians out of
there!”

Baylor thought about Anna
Clark and rubbed his hands over the fire. He had made it his
personal mission to find the men who had attacked her sister and
burned their home. Then he would find their father and bring him
back safely to her. More than anything, he wanted to avenge her
suffering. Something about her fascinated him. He hoped that once
she was reunited with her father that she would stay in touch with
him. However, with the army constantly on the move, there was
little hope that she could, no matter how badly he wished for
it.

Washington stood watching
the men climb into the Durham Iron Works boats. The wooden crafts
were strong and sturdy enough to haul iron ore up and down the
river. The men huddled tightly together against the wind, nervous
about crossing an ice-clogged river in the night. Few of them knew
how to swim.

Washington noted the way the
men followed his orders, never hesitating to risk their lives.
Whatever others thought of this rebel army, he admired their heart
and courage. While others sat home in front of their hearths,
enjoying a Christmas dinner with family and loved ones, these men
were here, enduring a winter storm at night. Without shelter,
without protection from the freezing cold and stinging sleet, they
pressed onward in the dark, their fate unknown.