George Washington's Surprise Attack

by Phillip Thomas Tucker

  On the miserable sojourn to Trenton, the majority of Washington’s common soldiers now wore old slouch hats of wool or felt, like those of everyday lower- and middle-class American farmers who raised mostly hogs and corn for market and consumption, while Continental officers primarily wore the more stylish tricorn hats with decorative cockades, green-colored for junior officers and white-colored for captains: a color difference that mirrored class and economic divisions between officers and enlisted men. But no headgear now adequately protected the necks, faces, and ears of Washington’s men of any rank from the searing cold of late December that made this the most nightmarish marches in the army’s history.65

  All the while, Washington was tormented not as much by the cold as by a painful “despair of surprizing [sic] the Town” of Trenton, upon which America’s fortunes now hinged.66 After pushing across the plateau’s high ground, where the howling winds swept through the lengthy column like “a perfect hurricane” in one private’s words, that rose to around 250 feet, the land generally leveled out. All the while, Washington’s troops were unprotected from this bone-chilling force of nature, making the few blankets and coats wrapped around them flap in the gales like new leaves of a birch tree on a windy April morning. However, the excruciating march of the long column of Continentals now became a bit easier for the foot-weary, sleep-deprived soldiers, as they finally approached the little hamlet of Birmingham, now wrapped in a cocoon of snow, blackness, and silence that dominated a landscape of white as far as the eye could see.67

  A Lonely, Frozen Crossroads in the Middle of Nowhere

  Fortunately, for Washington’s seemingly lost trekkers who continued to trudge ever-southward, the storm finally began to somewhat abate, but only slightly. At long last, the omnipresent mixture of rain, sleet, and snow started to lessen, increasing ever so slightly degree of visibility as Washington’s troops neared the frozen crossroads, which was about half-way to Trenton. But this was only a brief lull—like another cruel practical trick played by a vengeful Mother Nature that seemed to have sided with Great Britain in this war—before the arrival of another round of even more severe weather. After pushing slightly southeast down the snowy Bear Tavern Road and with the ground yet gently ascending, Washington’s foremost soldiers at long last reached the frozen crossroads of Birmingham, which was nestled amid a twisted maze of black oak and hickory thickets, with a few scattered cedars and pines of dark green.

  After the weary Americans had already trudged about five miles from the river landing site, the tiny village of Birmingham was the proverbial fork in the road for Washington and his men. Here, at yet another relative high point, where the Bear Tavern Road intersected the road that led southwest about a mile and a quarter to Howell’s Ferry on the Delaware, some of Washington’s exhausted soldiers felt that they could go no farther by this time. Closely monitoring his troops under the steady deluge, Washington ordered a halt for his men to rest and gain strength. While trying in vain to stay warm, worn-out Continentals rested on the snow-covered ground around the little crossroads cloaked in snow, while the howling wind whistled through the bare, swaying trees overhead, causing branches to crack and squeak in the eerie silence that griped Hunterdon County like a frozen vise.

  Especially now and more needed than any previous point on the arduous march, this halt at the obscure Birmingham crossroads provided a timely respite, as the number of stragglers had increased dramatically. They now needed time to catch up to the column. Even an anxious Washington, whose stamina was legendary, was worn down—as much mentally and psychologically as physically—by “an agonizing ride” in leading his revolutionary army ever-southward on a nerve-racking march to either a rare victory or yet another disaster.

  With only division and brigade commanders and staff officers mounted on war horses, most Continental officers remained on foot, suffering the same misery as the ragged privates in the ranks. No wonder, wrote Major Wilkinson, that many officers “gloomy and despondent” by the taxing ordeal. So far, young officers like Lieutenant Elisha Bostwick, who had yet to fully recover from a serious bout of sickness, had struggled to keep up his comrades of the Nineteenth Continental Infantry Regiment, under Colonel Webb. Never forgetting the sight, Bostwick described how “a halt was made at which time his Excellency & Aids came near to front on the Side of the Patch where the Soldiers Stood [to stay out of the mud and slush filling the narrow roadway and] I heard his Excellency as he was comeing [sic] on Speaking to & Encouraging the Soldiers. The words he Spoke as he pass’d by where I stood & in my hearing were these [“] Soldiers keep by your officers for Gods Sake[,] keep by your officers [which was] Spoke in a deep & Solemn voice.”68

  Throughout the past, Washington’s extensive efforts in having created a capable officer corps continued to pay dividends on the weary march to Trenton. As he explained one secret of his success as a commander-in-chief, whose orders were now obeyed to the letter: “Be easy and condescending to your officers, but not too familiar, lest you subject yourself to a want of that respect which is necessary to support a proper command,” especially during just such a challenging ordeal as on this miserable night.69 As never before, Washington inspired his men, who were “engaged in the Cause of Liberty and their Country,” wrote the commander-in-chief, to do the impossible.70

  Washington’s advice was sound, because officers were essential in keeping the column together and formations tight in the freezing darkness. Feeling an instinctive need to replenish bodily systems, weakened by hypothermia, worn down by the river crossing and the frigid march and perhaps believing that nourishment might somehow warm up their thoroughly chilled bodies, soldiers with half-frozen fingers removed pre-cooked rations from stiff, ice-caked haversack and knapsacks with difficulty. Then, while snow continued to drop over the isolated Birmington crossroads, hungry men eagerly took bites of their salt pork and doughy “firecake” rations. After gobbling down their cold meal, some soldiers sipped from wooden canteens, especially if they contained a much-needed mixture of water and local applejack, called “Jersey lightning” by the men—that would not freeze like plain water—to ward off the bone-numbing cold, provide stimulation, fight off hypothermia, and fortify the body and its loss of circulation against winter storm’s harshness.

  While the Hessians continued to sleep peacefully in Trenton’s warm houses in ignorant bliss about what was happening to the north, Washington’s men gobbled down a meager early morning breakfast on a seemingly ill-fated morning upon which every ounce of strength was needed. Making sure that everything was in order, Washington was too busy to eat. He held a hasty impromptu commander’s conference with his generals and staff officers, reconfirming his tactical plan and last-minute requirements to his top lieutenants for the final descent upon Trenton around five miles to the south.

  Earning a much-needed respite on the most demanding and longest night of their lives, young soldiers rested at this snowy hamlet of only a few little wooden houses seemingly located in the middle of nowhere. These precious moments of a sweet respite were savored, because the men knew that there would be no more breaks during these fast-fading early morning hours. Sleepless Marblehead soldiers, even more tired than Washington’s other men because of their efforts in the laborious Delaware River crossing, very likely now wished that they were enjoying a warm meal of their home town’s dried cod or flounder to provide nourishment instead of tasteless firecakes, and foul-tasting salt port—the staple of poor western frontier landlubbers, who had never seen the ocean before. As ordered by Washington, no fires were kindled to warm up the half-froze bodies for fear of alerting the enemy. Clearly, now that he was close to Trenton, Washington continued to take no unnecessary risks at a time when none could be afforded for America’s fortunes.

  Nearing 6:00 a.m. with the first breaking of a cold dawn drawing ever-nearer and now situated at the Birmingham crossroads about five miles from Trenton and an hour after his original time to have launched his attack, Washington made his last dis
positions for the final descent upon Trenton. Knowing that precious time was slipping away, Washington hurriedly prepared his strike force to now operate separately as two separate divisions. Around 1,200 soldiers, mostly armed with the .75 caliber Brown Bess musket of ten and half pounds, were assigned to each column. Commanded by Generals Sullivan and Greene, each column consisted of three infantry brigades. Each column of the First (Sullivan) and Second (Greene) Divisions was composed of a lead first brigade, a middle second brigade, and finally, a third, or the so-called “reserve” brigade.

  Now designated as the right wing of Washington’s strike force, Sullivan and his newly designated First Division of three brigades, under Sargent, Glover, and St. Clair, respectively, were issued orders to take the southern, or lower, road that continued straight south from Birmingham before veering slightly to the right, or west. Merely a continuation of the Bear Tavern Road, this so-called River Road led first straight south and then southeast to run parallel to the river, which would allow Sullivan’s First Division to advance upon Trenton and enter the town’s lower end from the southwest: the southern arm of Washington’s pincer movement.

  Meanwhile, Greene’s Second Division column was designated as the left wing, consisting of Stephen’s, Mercer’s, Stirling’s, and Fermoy’s Brigades, the reserve brigade, respectively. This left wing contingent was the main strike force of four brigades, under Washington’s personal command, which planned to eventually advance upon Trenton from the northwest by way of the upper, or northern, road on the left, the Pennington Road: the northern arm of the pincer movement, or double envelopment. But first before descending south toward Trenton, Greene’s column had to push more than a mile through the snow-covered woodlands to the left, or east, from the relative high ground of the Birmingham crossroads, and then down gently sloping terrain along the Upper Ferry Road, east of the crossroads. This challenging route would take the Washington-Greene column first to the Scotch Road, nearly a mile to the east through more unmapped territory. Then, from this intersection, the Scotch Road flowed south through the forests and eventually led to the Pennington Road, which ran parallel to the Scotch Road and linked Pennington, northeast of Johnson’s Ferry, to Trenton, to the southeast: the more direct route that led straight south and into Trenton’s northwestern edge.

  Compared to Sullivan and his three First Division brigades that Washington ordered to shortly push south from Birmingham along a generally straight line down the River Road that was essentially a mere continuation of the Bear Tavern Road, Greene’s assignment was the much more difficult and demanding, especially in such stormy conditions. Greene’s march involved a longer route and required a greater effort in first pushing nearly a mile farther east to gain the Scotch Road before turning sharply south, or to the right. Meanwhile, east of Greene’s Second Division column, Sullivan’s First Division column would march straight south by a shorter parallel route along gently descending terrain by way of the River Road that sloped downhill toward the ever-troublesome river across even lower ground and all the way nearly to the Delaware’s east bank.

  Because Greene’s route was longer, including first a march east and parallel to Trenton, and more demanding because of its longer length, Washington’s orders called for Greene to proceed first, while Sullivan’s troops, mostly New Englanders, rested on their arms in a tense formation amid the incessant snow flurries and blowing snow. Here, at windswept Birmingham, Sullivan’s New Englanders awaited the belated signal to begin the march straight south down the River Road: a most imprecise coordination of two widely separated divisions for Washington’s planned simultaneous tactical strike on Trenton from two directions. Checking every detail and making all precautions, Washington, therefore, continued to make sure that he and his officers operated by synchronized watches to coordinate the two widely separated arms of the pincer movement calculated to hit Trenton from two directions at the same time.

  Significantly, Washington provided more muscle for Greene’s Second Division column, with an extra Continental brigade in contrast to Sullivan’s more diminutive column, because he planned to secure the commanding heights at the northern end of town—the key to the upcoming struggle for possession of Trenton. Greene’s column consisted of mostly seasoned Continentals from Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Massachusetts, and Connecticut troops, and they could be counted upon by Washington. After experiencing a series of defeats, they had endured the anguish of the humiliating retreat across New Jersey. Consequently, these men now eagerly awaited an opportunity to strike back at those yet unbeaten troops, who had pursed them in an almost festive delight. General Sullivan, meanwhile, commanded soldiers mostly from General Gates’s and Lee’s forces, consisting of two Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and New York infantry regiments.

  Finding some solace in the frigid blackness while experiencing the usual pre-battle nervous apprehension with America’s most important battle to date drawing near, the thirty-two-year-old General Greene, the army’s mathematically minded rising star who lamented the sad realities of “this unhappy war,” might have now thought about what the future might hold for his pregnant wife, pretty Caty. She was about to have her second child back at their two story wooden home, modest and plain that reflected his Quaker antecedents, which was nestled in a majestic bend of the Pawtuxet River, in Coventry, Rhode Island. During the lengthy march on Trenton, Greene very likely thought back upon what would become of his yet unnamed child, if he failed to survive Washington’s most audacious gamble.71

  In a striking paradox that revealed the extent of how this struggle was as much of a civil war as a people’s revolution, the two leading Celtic commanders of each respective assault column understood this grim reality from insights gleamed from the Emerald Isle’s tortured history and England’s subjugation, especially so many failed uprisings of the common people. The robust but ever-energetic Knox was the son-in-law of a Loyalist, who had fled to England to escape America’s internal turmoil. And Sullivan’s own beloved brother, William, who was fated to be killed in this war, now wore the resplendent uniform of a British colonel.72

  Most importantly, the eighteen guns of Knox’s Regiment of Continental Artillery were divided almost equally between the two columns to bestow considerable “long-arm” strength to each pincer arm. Clearly, this was one of Washington’s most significant decisions of the campaign. Washington’s well-thought-out decision revealed that he fully appreciated the fact that for his double-pronged attack and double envelopment to have any real chance of succeeding, each strike column had to be significantly bolstered by an ample number of artillery pieces, especially now that wetness would certainly make a good many infantrymen’s flintlocks inoperable during the storm. In fact, Washington’s equitable, judicious division of artillery between Greene’s and Sullivan’s assault columns was a decision that the ever-artillery-minded Napoleon himself would have certainly appreciated.

  Washington ordered the guns of Captains Forrest’s, Hamilton’s, and Baumann’s commands, respectively, to accompany Greene’s Second Division column, a total of nine cannon. The other nine guns of Captains Neil’s, Moulder’s, and Sargent’s artillery units were ordered advance down the River Road with Sullivan’s First Division. An exacting Washington, knowing that precision and meticulousness might spell the difference between winner and loser, continued to make sure that four artillery pieces would advance at each column’s head, with three guns at the head of the next, or second, brigade in the center of each separate column, and two cannon with the final brigade, or reserves. Such careful placement of these iron and bronze guns ensured the early deployment of artillery to guarantee a disproportionate, if not decisive, impact by massing heavy firepower at the most decisive point in the earliest stage of the upcoming contest for Trenton’s possession.

  Consequently, Captain Forrest’s four guns, the big six-pounders and two five and a half-inch howitzers, would continue to advance at the head of Greene’s main column, proper just be
fore Mercer’s brigade, just behind Stephen’s vanguard brigade of Virginians. Washington’s insightful decision—Napoleonic in concept—was as unorthodox as it was tactically sound and vital. Such forward artillery placement guaranteed not only early firepower superiority over his Hessian opponent once the battle opened, but also bestowed tactical flexibility. Washington, therefore, planned to possess a considerably enhanced tactical flexibility to maneuver and shift his artillery to the most advantageous and strategic positions to either support the initial attack with overwhelming firepower, or to parry any emerging threat, especially a German counterattack: a maximum and highly flexible utilization of artillery firepower, which if combined with the element of surprise, was calculated by the visionary Washington to deliver a powerful one-two punch to the Rall brigade.

  However, the careful placement of the four pieces of artillery with the lead brigade at the column’s head was yet a risky gamble. After all, if Washington’s surprise attack was early detected or faltered in the very beginning, and the Hessians quickly employed their favorite tactic of counterattacking with the bayonet, then Washington’s most advanced artillery would be in jeopardy. But remaining positive and optimistic despite the series of setbacks, a resolute Washington was not thinking about losing the initiative or suffering a reversal. Most of all, in a well-calculated gamble, the former Virginia militia colonel was now going for broke, winner take all. By stacking the odds in his favor as much as possible and in relying upon a brilliant battle plan, Washington increased his chances for success, because neither his nation or army could now afford another setback of any kind.