The General's Christmas (5 page)

The horses balked at getting
onto the ferries and had to be pulled and pushed. They were
securely tied to the rails before the ferries pushed off into the
dark wasteland. The animals whinnied in fear, and soldiers calmed
them by stroking their noses and necks.

Colonel Knox shouted orders
as men pushed the heavy cannon onto the flat ferries that would
take them across the Delaware River. The boats sank lower into the
water as each was loaded with heavy artillery. It would take
numerous trips back and forth to get everything across. ‘If only
the wind would subside,’ Knox prayed. But he was determined that no
matter what Mother Nature flung at them, they would get across with
all their artillery.

Standing at the edge of the
river was worse than being on the road. At least when marching,
one's feet and body were moving. While waiting to embark, the men
shivered uncontrollably as the cold drove deep into their bones.
Occasionally, the wind would subside long enough to give the
illusion that the weather was abating. Then another strong gust
followed, stinging their faces.

Corporal Baylor kept his head down against
the wind as he found his way back to the general.

"The first boats are halfway
across, Sir!" he shouted.

Washington nodded in reply.
The wind made it impossible to be heard without shouting, and
Washington wasn't going to do that unnecessarily. He was impatient
and worried about the conditions they faced. He wished there were
some other way to get the artillery across the river, but the
ferries offered the only transport.

The storm grew stronger.
Washington wondered how much longer they would have to endure the
stinging, wet, sleet. He wished he had conducted this operation a
day sooner.

Chapter 5

The man known as Bates pulled on the oars
against the strong river current. The wind whipped his hair as
sleet pelted his face and dripped down inside his collar. He turned
to keep his eye on the lights of Trenton, appearing dimly through
the driving sleet across the river.

A deep thud and a jolt told
him he had struck another ice floe. Working the oars, he maneuvered
around the ice to find a clear channel. The wind pushed the boat,
resisting his efforts.

“Them British damn better make it worth my
time,” he grumbled. The boat refused to cooperate and he began to
swear. After considerable cussing, the craft found its way around
the ice jam. He pulled harder on the oars to get across. In fifteen
minutes, he slid upon an ice-covered shore. Getting out of the
boat, he slipped and went down on one knee. He reached into the
boat and retrieved his weapon from under the seat. Gradually,
sliding and skidding, he made his way over the ice to the banks of
the river. Sleet covered his jacket and his musket as he climbed up
the bank through mounds of snow-covered cat tails and tall weeds.
He forced through them and headed across the snowy field toward the
lights of Trenton.

The town was a collection of
houses along a stretch of road that ran from Princeton to
Bordentown. Besides a tavern, there was a blacksmith shop, a
church, and a general store. The British had chased out most of the
Americans a few weeks ago, and the Hessians now occupied their
homes.

Bates found guards standing on duty outside
of one of the houses, a two-story wooden structure with peeling and
cracked, pale-yellow clapboard siding and black shutters pocked
with bullet holes.

As he approached, they held
their muskets up to fire.

Bates held up his hands and
announced, “I come to speak to the captain.”

“Der Kapitan?” one of them
asked.

“Yes, the captain. Where is he?”

The guard held him at gunpoint and pointed
the way into the house. Bates nodded and was relieved of his musket
as he entered.

He stood listening to the guard speak to an
officer in German. Soon, he was ushered into another room where an
older man with a long mustache sat ramrod straight behind a table
in a wooden chair.

“I am Colonel Rall. Who are you?” He asked in
a thick German accent.

“My name’s Bates. I rowed across the river
‘cause I got something I think you want to hear about the American
army. But it won’t be for free.”

Rall stood up and studied the man’s
appearance.

“You are American?”

Bates cleared his throat.

“Well, at the moment I don’t
call myself American or British. I take care of myself. Don’t
matter to me who’s in charge.”

The Colonel nodded in understanding.

“What is it you wish to tell me?”

“It’s about an attack on Trenton. But you’ll
get the details after I get paid.”

“How do I know this information is to be
trusted?”

Bates scratched his beard.

“Well, if it don’t come true
like I said it would, I’ll be in the tavern, and you can come and
get me.”

Rall stood and faced him
saying, “I will pay you after the attack--if there is
one.”

Bates shook his head, “But if you get beat, I
won’t get my money!”

Rall guffawed, “Beat? By the Americans?” He
laughed again at the absurdity of the idea.

“Mr. Bates, you have wasted your time coming
here. If the Americans do attack, we are ready for them. Despite
the fact that it is Christmas, we are on full alert. If they do
come in this snowstorm across that ice-covered river, and I doubt
very much that they will, we will beat them soundly! Now get out of
here! I have nothing further to say to you!”

Looking at Bates with disgust, he told his
guards to take him away.

Two guards grabbed Bates by his arms and
pulled him backward.

“You’ll be sorry!” Bates yelled, “You’ll wish
you’d listened to me! I know what I’m talkin’ about! You’re gonna
be sorry!”

The guards dragged him out of the house and
into the snowstorm. They gave him a shove and he landed face-down
in the snow.

“Where’s my gun? You can’t
take my gun!” he shouted angrily, standing up.

One of the guards tossed his
musket at him and shouted something in German.

Bates picked it up and brushed snow from his
face. He shivered as another gust of strong wind assailed him.

Angry, he turned away and headed toward the
tavern at the other end of the town.

“You’ll be sorry!” he shouted.

At the shore of the
ice-choked Delaware, Washington took out his pocket watch and
checked the time again. It was too dark to see the dial so he
leaned toward the small lantern swinging in the wind. It was two
a.m. and the men were still being taken across. It was taking twice
as long to get across the ice-clogged river as he had planned. They
still had to march another ten miles from their landing place on
the opposite side to the outskirts of Trenton. The longer the
operation took, the deeper his melancholy. At this point, his hopes
of a surprise, synchronous, pre-dawn attack seemed
futile.

Another hour passed before
he climbed into the last boat. The other boats ahead of them had
cleared a crooked channel through the ice. The strong Durham boat
had no seats, but someone had turned over a crate and offered it to
the general. He thanked the man and sat down.

The wind pushed the boat against the icebergs
lining each side of the channel and whitecaps splashed over the
sides. The men huddled together wide-legged in the center of the
craft, trying to keep their balance as the boat swayed to and
fro.

There was a shout from one of the boats
ahead.

“Hold on! Move to the center!” someone
shouted. The boat ahead of them appeared in the darkness.

“Be careful!” shouted one of the men.

Washington stood up
carefully and peered around the men to see the boat ahead of them
listing dangerously to one side. The men clung to the gun wales.
Suddenly, there was a splash as a dark figure toppled into the
water.

“Man overboard!”
shouted another.

The men in the boat held on until the craft
steadied itself, and then two men reached out into the darkness,
calling to the man who had fallen in.

“Help!
Help me!”
he cried in terror. He
couldn’t swim and the swift current was dragging him down into the
frigid ice water.

Strong hands gripped his
arms and collar. He reached out, clutching onto their arms. They
hauled him over the side and back into the boat, causing it to sway
perilously from side to side.

“Hold on!” someone shouted.

There were muffled cries as the drowning man
moaned and shivered uncontrollably.

Washington spoke loud enough to be heard by
those in the boat ahead.

“Men, we must maintain our composure! Any
sounds we make are carried along the river to the side of the
enemy. Calm yourselves and keep the boat steady!”

The men became quiet immediately and got back
into formation. Crews worked the poles and oars to maneuver through
the channel against the wind. Waves splashed over the side, wetting
everyone in the front or near the sides. They pressed on through
the dark and the driving sleet, heedless of the imminent
danger.

The boats formed a long flotilla across the
river. The ferries were the most difficult to get across because of
the weight of the heavy artillery they bore, eighteen pieces in
all. Despite their skittishness, the horses had all been ferried
over without any losses.

When they reached the west
bank of the Delaware, Washington climbed carefully onto the
slippery ice. The storm continued to rage. It was growing colder
and the sleet had turned to stinging hail. Soaked to the skin and
shivering, the men huddled around small camp fires and snacked on
some of the rations they had been given, hoping the food would give
them enough energy to keep going. As tired as they were, they
hadn't lost their sense of humor, and they made jokes about the
crossing.

"Such a lovely cruise," one man grinned, "I
wish I brought me wife!"

"I wish I brung my fishin' pole! I'm sure I
saw a bunch o' catfish jumpin' out there!"

Hearty laughter buoyed their spirits.

Around four in the morning, they reformed
into their columns and prepared to begin the march to Trenton.
General Greene found Washington and pointed out the road they would
take.

“We have some New Jersey men here who say
that they’ll guide us along the way!”

Washington nodded, “Did everyone make it
across?”

“Call it a miracle, but yes,
everyone is safely across and so are the horses and artillery,
Sir!”

Washington nodded in satisfaction and mounted
his horse. His maps indicated that Bear Tavern was almost two miles
away. From there, they would turn south on Bear Tavern Road toward
Trenton.

As they headed out, the hail changed to snow,
heavy and thick, flying horizontally into their faces.

“This storm is a real nor’easter!” Greene
remarked. He was from Rhode Island and familiar with the storms
that raged from the Canadian seaboard, swooping down the eastern
coast.

Washington only nodded in grim agreement,
wondering how much longer it would last.

Chapter 6

Down the river, Colonel Cadwalader was having
his own problems getting across the river. Like Greene’s and
Sullivan’s regiments, his own men battled the river’s current and
ice floes. When they finally reached the opposite side, they
discovered a wide shelf of ice along the western bank.

“Pull the boats upon the ice and let the men
out here,” Cadwalader told the crews. They obeyed, but as soon as
the boats glided upon the ice shelf, it began to crack.

“Get back in the boat!”
cried someone to the men who had ventured out onto the
ice.

“Lay down!” someone shouted, and they
flattened themselves on the ice.

The river current tugged at the boats, trying
to pull them down the river, but the crews pushed their poles into
the black water and kept the boats from drifting.

A few men lay still on the ice, fearful that
they would fall through. Hands stretched out to grab them and pull
them back into the boats. They scrambled over the gunwales, wetting
their feet and legs. Cadwalader witnessed their futile attempts
from his own boat, and shouted,

“There’s no way to get over safely! Go back
to the other side! Retreat!”

Near Trenton, General
Ewing’s ferry crossing was a mass of frozen icebergs, between four
and five feet high, all stacked upon one another into one frozen
wasteland. There was no way to take an infantry on foot across that
river, not to mention horses, wagons, and heavy artillery. He sent
scouts to find a way across but none was found. For his army, there
would be no crossing of the Delaware tonight. Discouraged and cold,
he gathered his men and gave the order to retreat. Washington’s
force would be on its own tonight.