From the river’s level flood plain on the blustery New Jersey shore, the wooded terrain rose sharply a short distance east of the ferry landing and up to the small, one-story Johnson Ferry House. Small and quaint, this Dutch-influenced frame farmhouse, built around 1740, overlooked the wide river and ferry landing. Serving as a tavern and inn, this white-washed, wooden house was where weary passengers, traveling along the dusty road to Philadelphia, had long stopped to eat and lodge for the night. Only a short distance away from the diminutive Johnson House and standing on the lower ground near the river, Washington shouted additional instructions in the night, while newly arriving bands of stiff, half-frozen soldiers climbed out of the big Durham boats with cramped legs and wet feet. Once on solid New Jersey ground, they began to feel more confident. One American never forgot the inspiring sight of Washington, who “stands on the bank of the river, wrapped in his cloak, superintending the landing of the troops.”55
Like feisty Scotch-Irishman Sam McConkey on the west bank, so James Slack, also a patriotic Presbyterian of Scotch-Irish descent, which almost always equated to the most ardent of revolutionaries, now operated Johnson’s Ferry. Located about ten miles upriver and north of Trenton, this ferry had been formerly known as Palmer’s or Parmer’s Ferry. Bringing some peace of mind in this regard, Washington could now safely rely upon McConkey and Slack, two trusty Scotch-Irishmen, for what was now yet vital for the success of this risky operation: absolute secrecy.
After all, a party of Continental scouts and a small Hessian patrol had skirmished at this exact location on Christmas Eve. Fulfilling his patriotic duty, Slack also personally assisted with the hectic crossing just below his small house, now covered in a blanket of newly fallen snow, situated on its elevated perch among the tall hardwood trees lining the slope. Named after Garret Johnson, the father of Robert and Rutt, who began ferry operations in 1761, this relatively little-known ferry was now leased from Rutt Johnson. However, the ferry had been operated by the enterprising team of James and Richard Slack since 1767.56
Meanwhile, additional cold-numbed soldiers poured ashore in increasing numbers to Washington’s absolute delight. Most important, these Continentals, especially high-ranking officers, were no ordinary fighting men. Fortunately for Washington, he could count on a brilliant constellation of promising, mostly young, leaders. A good many of these officers were destined to emerge as major players and national leaders in America’s story in the future: the first, Washington, and fifth, James Monroe, presidents of the United States, and the nation’s future war and treasury secretaries, the gregarious Knox and handsome Alexander Hamilton, respectively, were always at the forefront.
In addition, future leaders of states, both from existing states (former colonies) and those yet to be formed west of the Appalachians, also now served in Washington’s ranks, including Colonel Charles Scott, Kentucky’s future governor who commanded the Fifth Virginia Continental Regiment, Stephen’s Virginia brigade, which was the first infantry brigade to reach the frozen New Jersey soil and Captain William Hull, Nineteenth Connecticut Continental Regiment, Glover’s brigade, who became the future governor of the Michigan Territory. All of these gifted leaders and men of distinction were now fully prepared to do or die at Trenton in a desperate bid to save the fast-fading life of their dying nation. These relatively faithful few, both officers and enlisted men, were among what little remained of this fledgling republic’s most die-hard revolutionaries, after thousands of less resolved patriots had already deserted in droves during the disastrous New York Campaign and long, miserable retreat through New Jersey. Without any normal complaining or cursing of their commanders and politicians, these most resolute of rebels in arms against the king were now “patiently bearing the fatigues and hardships of a winter’s campaign, rather than suffer their country to be exposed to the further ravages of a barbarous [and] vindictive foe.”57
Meanwhile, the trusty vanguard of veteran Continentals from Virginia and New Jersey continued to push farther inland beyond the ferry to gain the higher ground that lay immediately beyond, or east of, the river bottom. Here, where the ground rose sharply—essentially a slight river bluff located just beyond the river’s east bank—a short distance to the Johnson Ferry House and farther up the heavily timbered slope, Captain Flahaven’s New Jersey boys and Captain Washington’s Virginians continued to move inland with firm discipline. Seasoned fighting men, they eased across the snowy ground like ghosts in the night, fanning out during their advance to create a wide protective screen. After pushing uphill and east through the dark woodlands and once atop the level ground of a high plateau that overlooked the broad river behind them, these vanguard New Jersey and Virginia troops then quickly fanned out and took defensive positions on this high ground perch to protect the low-lying crossing point immediately to the west, just in case any nearby enemy mounted a counterattack.
Meanwhile, the seasoned New Jersey Continentals, along with Captain Washington’s Virginia vanguard, strained eyes toward dark treelines before them to the east. Despite low visibility, they searched for glimpses of any Hessians, whose dark blue uniforms would blend in with the eerie blackness. The driving ice and snow eliminated any pale light of the cloud-screened moon, despite its near fullness, limiting visibility to almost zero. If a Hessian force was in the vicinity and drove the Americans from their yet precarious toehold on the Jersey shore, then Washington’s vulnerable task force, of which only a fraction had reached the east side by this time, would never know what had hit them, wrecking the commander-in-chief’s masterplan for reversing the revolution’s tide with one bold stroke.
Meanwhile, across the river at McConkey’s Ferry, even more Durham boats, slowly but surely, were rowed by Glover’s men out into the river’s maelstrom. Stacked up on the Pennsylvania frozen shore, additional Continental soldiers, now looking more like scarecrows in a Virginia Piedmont cornfield than regular fighting men, without proper winter uniformsor warm greatcoats, filed quietly into the slippery Durham boats, which dipped lower into the water with the added weight. Without fanfare or much noise, these overloaded boats were pushed offshore and then poled by Glover’s Massachusetts boys, while apprehensive Continental soldiers prayed that they would survive the risky journey in the night and winter storm.
During the time-consuming passage over the turbulent river that seemed as much of a foe as any British or Hessian regiment, the Durham boats pitched and swayed in the swift current and blustery, northeastern winds. All the while, the Marbleheaders gamely struggled against the rising tide to keep their vessels on a straight course. Rowing relentlessly against the current’s surging strength in the icy cold that felt like New England in February, the hands of Glover’s hardworking men grew numb, after becoming wet by the river’s waters and from the steady deluge from the skies.
Following behind Captain Flahaven’s band of New Jersey Continentals and Captain Washington’s Virginians, the next infantry unit to gain their footing on New Jersey soil were troops of General Stephen’s brigade, the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Virginia Continental Regiments. Most important, Washington had personally selected these three crack Virginia regiments to serve as the vigilant vanguard brigade to lead the lengthy advance on Trenton from the north. These veteran Virginians of Stephen’s vanguard brigade were ordered inland by Washington on the double. Their assignment was to secure the high ground, now held only by the thin screen of Flahaven’s New Jersey men and Captain Washington’s Virginia soldiers, amid the thick hardwood timber standing just beyond the yet-vulnerable landing site to ensure that the entire strike force could assemble on solid ground unimpeded. With clanging gear that rang hauntingly through the dark woodlands, Stephen’s seasoned troops pushed uphill to make the landing site more secure. Once atop the plateau after traversing the slippery slope, the experienced Virginia general, whose stately limestone mansion, built in 1774, stood on a hill overlooking Tuscarora Creek in western Virginia (today’s Martinsburg, West Virginia), then deployed his Old D
ominion troops in a wide screen amid the timber in protective fashion.
Fortunately, no Hessian infantry pickets or British cavalrymen, of the Sixteenth Light Horse, from the Trenton garrison had been stationed anywhere near Johnson’s Ferry. Ironically, these mounted Britons could have served as an ideal mobile task force if stationed on the east bank at Johnson’s Ferry to give early warning to the Trenton garrison at the first sign of Washington’s crossing.
Meanwhile, departing the high ground plateau in a hurry with the sudden arrival of Stephen’s Virginians, Captain Flahaven’s New Jersey Continentals then pushed farther inland on their prearranged assignment: to eventually gain the northern end of the River Road, which paralleled the north-south flowing Delaware and led to Trenton’s southwest edge, far to the southeast at its intersection with the Bear Tavern Road. Knowing this rolling countryside of mixed forests and scattered farmlands quite well, these New Jersey Continentals were also on a key assignment to gain an advanced position about three miles northwest of Trenton to intercept any civilians or enemy scouts or patrols, which might sound a timely warning to the Trenton garrison. Likewise moving ahead at a fairly good pace despite the falling snow, Captain Washington’s invigorated Virginians possessed a comparable mission north of Trenton roughly parallel, to the east, of Flahaven’s key River Road assignment.
Upon reaching the low-lying eastern shore where the high waters lapped at the icy river bank, larger numbers of troops continued to pour out of their cramped quarters. As if thankful to escape their harrowing confines, they quickly emerged from the water-slick Durham boats that made ideal landing craft for infantrymen, almost as if these durable vessels had been specially designed for this express purpose. Much to their relief, ever-larger numbers of Washington’s troops, stiff and sore, swarmed inland to gain solid ground. Incredibly, Washington’s ad hoc flotilla of boats was unleashing hundreds of troops without losing a man. Safely reaching the New Jersey shore brought an instant sense of relief among these young men and boys, while heightening expectations for a successful enterprise on this freezing morning in a wilderness-like region that they had never seen before.
After gaining solid ground, the Continentals quickly assembled on the Jersey side, instantly falling into formation. They then shouldered muskets with a surprising measure of discipline, as if on a parade ground in Philadelphia, Williamsburg, or Boston on a calm summer day instead of now caught amid an escalating snowstorm on a hostile shore. Moving briskly from the low ground at Johnson’s Ferry and uphill past the little ferry house was not enough exertion to warm these men, barely working out numbness and stiffness from joints and legs. All the while, the incessant showers of snow and ice continued to tumble down, spraying the column to impede the ascent up the slope. Attempting to stay warm and dry amid the bone-numbing cold and omnipresent wetness remained a chief concern for Washington’s men. Almost like Canadian geese instinctively drying off for self-preservation, especially if a nearby predator suddenly approached, some Continental soldiers flapped arms against bodies. Meanwhile, other half-frozen men rubbed their hands together and stamped feet in place on the snowy ground to increase circulation after the freezing ride across the Delaware.
Hour after hour in the frigid blackness and despite worsening weather, Glover’s mariners somehow managed to keep a steady flow of Durham boats relentlessly moving back and forth from bank to bank, with the smoothness of an automated conveyor belt. Indeed, after Adam Stephen’s vanguard brigade crossed over to the east side, the troops of Greene’s Division, Hugh Mercer’s, Lord Stirling’s, and Matthias de Roche Fermoy’s brigades, respectively, were ferried across the swollen river. Then, John Sullivan’s Division, consisting of Colonel Paul Sargent’s brigade, John Glover’s New England brigade, and Arthur St. Clair’s New Hampshire and Massachusetts brigade, respectively, passed over.
Washington’s only New York infantrymen, the soaked soldiers of the First and Third New York Continental Regiments, of Sargent’s brigade, probably had no idea that the Delaware’s waters originated in their home state. For Moulder’s hard-working Philadelphians, under the finely educated Lieutenant Cuthbert, and Glover’s rawboned mariners, the laborious effort in getting so many boats repeatedly across the river and as quickly as possible in the stormy blackness was a seemingly endless struggle against the water, cold, and wind. Sweaty Marbleheaders were exhausted from the strenuous exertions and backbreaking labor that strained muscles and sapped physical endurance, but not one Massachusetts mariner stopped the endless rowing that had to be continued without a break in Washington’s desperate race against time. To this day, no one knows exactly how many trips were made by the Durham boats across the Delaware on that awful, tempestuous night. But whatever the total, that number was far too many for Glover’s overworked, worn men, who pushed themselves ever harder to the point of collapse to fulfill their vital mission upon which Washington and the army depended.
All the while, Washington’s soldiers were lashed by an even heavier deluge of rain, wind, ice, and snow by 11:00 p.m., when the near full moon, fully obscured by banks of black clouds, was about two-thirds of the way to its high point in the winter sky and the storm’s full wrath swept the Delaware valley with greater fury. A thin layer of ice formed on the edges of wooden oars, poles, and boats, and created a brittle crust on soldier’s wool coats and cotton shirt sleeves during the repetitious journeys across the Delaware. Muscles hurt from the steady rowing and backs ached as if they had been plowing the rocky fields of New England all day, but the arm-weary Marblehead boys kept dutifully at their arduous task.
With a determination that made Glover most proud of his men, the New Englanders continued to labor hour after hour in the depths of the horrendous storm that made them feel so “crimmy” in their own peculiar dialect from a distinctive seafaring people and culture of the faraway rocky shores of picturesque Cornwall, where green rolling hills of green offered breathtaking vistas that overlooked the Atlantic. With the storm only intensifying and unleashing more misery upon Washington’s men, the Marbleheader’s well-honed skills as seamen and fishermen in the north Atlantic’s rough waters continued to expedite the relentless ferrying of troops across the Delaware. With his soaked Connecticut comrades, Lieutenant Elisha Bostwick recorded how hundreds of Continental soldiers, including men who were bundled up in all manner of clothing and looking like rag dolls, passed safely across the river, “but by the obstructions of ice in the river [we would] not get all across till quite late in the evening & all the time a constant fall of Snow and Some rain. . . .”58
In his journal, Sergeant Thomas McCarty, of Irish heritage, who fought for the honor of the Old Dominion and his Eighth Virginia Continental Regiment, described how this was “the worst day of sleet rain that could be.”59 The articulate, well-educated Major Wilkinson, who hailed from the high-yield tobacco country of southern Maryland, described how the “force of the current, the sharpness of the frost, the darkness of the night, the ice which made during the operation and the high wind, rendered the passage of the river extremely difficult.”60
To ward off nature’s bitterest wrath, unlike the rest of Washington’s men who were not as fortunate, some of Glover’s mariners wore seamen’s hats of thick brown woolen yarn. On such a miserable night that tested a man’s physical endurance and mental toughness to the upmost, this traditional seafaring headgear, along with loose-fitting seamen’s trousers, was invaluable in allowing the Marbleheaders to more effectively ward off the elements than their non-seafaring comrades and perform more smoothly in their exertions. Like no other head apparel worn in Washington’s Army, the distinctive headgear of Glover’s men had been made waterproof with tar and other resistant substances to provide protection against harsh Grand Banks weather. Therefore, compared to Washington’s other Continentals, the heads of Massachusetts fishermen and seafarers, who already wore waterproof leather buttons for the same reasons, were better protected from the snow, rain, and sleet.61
Hour after hour, t
he vast majority of Washington’s men remained wet, soaked to the skin, and very cold, shaking and suffering in the intensifying stormy conditions. Insidiously, the biting cold steadily sapped the strength of bodies already worn down by the rigors of a grueling summer and autumn campaign, the long New Jersey retreat, low nutrition diets, and the ravages of disease. Men who should have been hospitalized instead shouldered muskets and gamely crossed over the Delaware. The popular, “fife-major” of the Fifteenth Massachusetts Continental Regiment, St. Clair’s brigade, now designated as a reserve unit of Sullivan’s Division, and one of the last infantry units to cross the Delaware, teenage Private Johnny Greenwood described how: “Over the river we then went in a flat-bottomed scow, and . . . I was with the first that crossed” the river at the head of his veteran regiment.62
Continuing to work together throughout this most miserable of nights as a highly effective team, Colonels Glover and Knox were in the process of performing a miracle that would have astounded the military experts, especially the recently captured General Charles Lee, the self-proclaimed military genius. An incredulous Lee, ironically, had recently criticized Washington’s seemingly inexplicable, mysterious obsession in having gathered all the vessels, including the Durham boats, along a seventy-mile stretch of the Delaware, asking “for heaven’s sake what use can they be of?”63
Like the aristocratic Howe and seemingly everyone in the British Army, especially the Hessians at Trenton, Cornwallis could not have possibly imagined that Washington and his troops might dare stir from their dreary, eastern Pennsylvania encampments this winter and attempt to do the unthinkable on Christmas Day, especially during an intense winter storm, when Lee’s probing question was about to be convincingly answered by the resourceful and suddenly unpredictable Washington once and for all. Most importantly, what the military experts, leaders, and strategists on both sides of the Atlantic failed to realize that Washington, thanks to Glover’s and his versatile Bay State regiment’s invaluable contributions, was now about to engage in his first battle in which he had finally controlled the main waterway and gained the initiative.
George Washington's Surprise Attack Page 8
