by Jeff Shaara
As the plan came together, Howe was easily convinced. If the ground was unfamiliar, the tactic was not, the same plan they had used on Long Island. Then, the water was at the rebels’ back. This time it was to their front. When the plan was firm in his mind, Cornwallis studied the maps one last time, studied more than the pencil lines. He noticed the names, crude letters marking the villages and crossings, Buffington, Kennett, Chadd’s Ford. And the deep winding stream, Brandywine Creek, that Washington must have felt was his great ally.
23. WASHINGTON
SEPTEMBER 11, 1777
With the first light, the creek had been shrouded in a low carpet of fog, but as the sun rose, the air grew thick and warm, the hum of insects filling the dense brush that hid much of Washington’s army. He had placed his troops into a compact line along the Brandywine, with a regiment of light infantry spread just across the creek, the men who would seek out the first contact with Howe’s advancing army. By midmorning, those men had scampered across the Brandywine in a hasty retreat, pursued by the enemy who was not British but Hessian. The blue-coated soldiers did not follow the Americans across the fords of the Brandywine, and it was clear that the Hessians had not intended to start a general engagement. Instead, they backed away along a high ridge west of the creek, just beyond the view of Washington’s lookouts. As the enemy troops disappeared, the lookouts could see a line of black specks spreading along the crest of the hill, the Hessian field artillery moving into place. By the time the sun had cleared the treetops, the Hessians brought their cannon to life, punching the air above Washington’s men with a barrage of ineffective fire. Knox had responded, and for most of an hour, both sides carried on the duel, lobbing shells blindly into enemy positions, troops and guns mostly hidden by dense thickets and patches of woods.
Washington had placed Greene in command of the ground that faced the Hessians, with Sullivan on the right, anchoring the flank upstream. The Brandywine was crossed by several shallow fords, and toward Sullivan’s far flank, a crossing called Wistar’s Ford stood out boldly on the maps. Washington’s own map was drawn by Sullivan’s scouts, and showed that the next crossing beyond Wistar was twelve miles upstream, a far longer march than the British would make with the Americans so close. Washington was hopeful that Howe’s scouts would tell their commander that the American position was flawed, could easily be flanked from the Wistar crossing, or even from some of the fords closer in. If Howe read his maps, the strategy must be obvious to him, a plan that would recall the British flank attack on Long Island, Howe’s first major success of the war.
As the Hessians continued their futile artillery barrage, their troops showed no sign of making ready for anything but sitting tight, and it was becoming clear to Washington that Howe had ordered the Hessians to provide a grand show, a demonstration in force. Washington had offered the bait. It was the first sign that Howe had taken it.
Directly in front of the Hessians, Greene’s troops stood watch over two shallow fords on the creek, the crossings that the Hessians would certainly use if they launched an attack. On the far right, Washington had instructed Sullivan to prepare for the likelihood of Howe’s flanking attack. Washington had cautioned Sullivan to keep a sharp eye, to have scouting parties manning every crossroad, every ford where Howe’s troops might suddenly appear. If Howe could be convinced that he was springing a cleverly conceived trap, then Washington could spring a trap of his own. With the Hessians staying put across the creek, Washington could only wait for his own scouting reports, some confirmation that Howe had indeed divided his army. A game was afoot, and a mystery as well, Howe’s whereabouts still unknown, no sign from across the creek that the troops who faced him were anything but Hessians, no more than a third of Howe’s strength.
The first reports had finally come into camp at midmorning, word from upstream that a British column was marching north, toward the upper fords. He had read the paper with sweating hands, nervous excitement at the first real evidence that Howe was following the very plan that Washington had hoped for. If the scouts would continue to do their job, Washington knew that they would find the British troops, most likely Cornwallis’ men, exactly where he wanted him: on the march, vulnerable, spread out along the roads upstream. Sullivan had been ordered to make ready, prepare to drive his men across the fords and surprise the British before they could form any kind of defense. Sullivan’s attack need only hold the British in place, while Washington sprung his own trap on the Hessians. Once Howe’s march had been confirmed, Greene would lead a massive strike straight across the creek, a sudden roaring assault into and around the Hessians. Before Howe could react, Washington could rout the Hessians, and then, with Greene turning northward, the rest of Howe’s army would be surrounded.
All Washington needed now was the reports from the scouts, some confirmation of just where Howe and the rest of his army had gone.
General,
A large body of the enemy, from every account five thousand, with sixteen or eighteen fieldpieces marched along this road just now. . . . I believe General Howe is with this party . . .
It was the third dispatch that Sullivan had forwarded downstream, and each one brought the same piece of news. Sullivan’s scouts reported that Howe had indeed divided his army, was marching exactly as Washington wished him to. He handed the letter to Tilghman, moved to the doorway of the small house, his headquarters, could see Greene in the distance, standing on a small bluff, staring out through field glasses across the creek toward the Hessians. Above him, the air was ripped by cannon fire, the Hessians continuing their display, Knox and his guns continuing to respond. Washington motioned that way, said, “Have General Greene report to me here.”
He expected Tilghman, heard instead the voice of Lafayette, who said, “I will retrieve him, sir.”
The young man was quickly on his horse, and Washington watched him gallop hard over the stretch of uneven ground. He is perhaps trying too hard, he thought. I should speak to him about that. It is not necessary for a commander to learn first to be a courier.
In the distance he saw Lafayette rein up beside Greene, the message delivered, and Greene looked back toward the house, was quickly up on his horse, both men now riding hard toward the headquarters.
He knew that Greene had been skeptical of the value of this young Frenchman, like Washington himself, had suffered through the preening and boasting of too many foreign officers, none of whom had shown any talent for leading an army. Washington had not yet seen any of that in Lafayette, and he knew that Greene respected his commander’s instinct. Greene’s legendary impatience had been tempered, and he would not be dismissive of the young Frenchman until Lafayette proved himself one way or the other. But there had been no bluster from Lafayette, the young man true to his word that he expected no favor from Washington until he had earned the right. Though Greene had withheld his judgment, he was cautious with his friendship, as though he expected Lafayette still to burst into plumage, assume the character of yet another foreign peacock. Washington watched as the two men moved through the brush, thought, I do not believe he will disappoint us, Mr. Greene. This army is desperate for good commanders, for leadership on every level. If Mr. Lafayette can fill those shoes, we must allow him room to do so.
The sky was cut again by a streak of fire, the shell bursting in the brush in front of the house. Washington hunched his shoulders, a reflex, the cloud of smoke obscuring the two riders. His heart froze for a long moment, and then they appeared, emerging through the smoke, and he let out a long slow breath. Tilghman was suddenly in front of him.
“Sir, we must move to safer ground!”
“It was not marksmanship, Colonel, but fortune. I cannot remove myself from any place the enemy may strike. This place is as safe as any on this ground.”
The two men reined up beside the house, and Washington moved forward, thought, There is no time for a formal meeting. Greene was still on his horse, and Washington said, “General, we have received another confirmation
that the enemy is marching upstream.” He saw the grim concentration on Greene’s face, a slow nod, and Washington looked back at Tilghman, said, “Send word to General Knox. Have him cease his cannon fire.”
“Sir!”
“General Greene, it is time. Have your division advance across the creek to their front and assault the Hessian position. Report to me on your progress. May Almighty God bless you with success.”
Greene was upright in the saddle, and there was no smile, no outburst of bravado. Greene looked at him, his hands gripped hard around the leather reins, said, “It will be done, sir.”
The man was gone quickly, and Washington looked to his staff, said, “Mr. Hamilton, take word to General Sullivan. He is to advance across the creek and seek a confrontation with the enemy in his quarter. Request in the strongest terms that General Sullivan keep me informed of events. Do you understand?”
Hamilton’s face had the same look he had seen from Greene, and the young man said, “Right away, sir!”
Hamilton was already to his horse, and with one quick shout was gone.
Washington stepped back to the entrance of the small house, stared for a long while, could see movement in the brush along the creek, Greene’s men rising from their cover, forming their lines. The first wave was already at the creek, officers leading them to the shallow fords. The Hessian guns continued to pound the air, but there was no aim, nothing to show they were even aware that the attack was coming toward them. Washington could hear the men in the creek now, shouts and splashes, saw field guns moving up behind them, the cannon that would give covering fire, or even better, might be put to use close to the enemy. We know where their guns are, and if we are quick, they will not be able to protect them. He looked for Knox, the round man astride the horse, but the movement along the creek held his attention, more of Greene’s troops marching through the rocky stream. He thought of climbing the horse, moving closer, but he could do them no good now. No, I must remain here. There is too much at stake. They must be able to find me.
As Greene’s men flowed across the creek, Washington felt his nervousness surging through him, knew that once across, they would have to gather, form again into good order. The Hessians are too far back to prevent that, and certainly their officers will hold them ready behind that hill, or, if they are scattered into smaller units, there will be a mad scramble to bring them into line. They cannot be expecting us to attack, and that may be all the advantage we require. The momentum is ours, and Mr. Greene will know to shift his lines to exploit their weakness.
There was nothing for him to see, no sounds of a fight yet, and he moved to the small office in the house, stood beside the desk, could not sit, still listened for the first sounds of Greene’s assault.
“Sir!”
Tilghman was back, standing in the open doorway, breathing heavily, and Washington saw a paper in his hand.
“Sir, a message has just arrived from General Sullivan!”
Washington took the paper, thought, It is too soon for word of his assault. There has been no sound of a fight in that direction.
General,
Since I sent you the message by Major Moore, I have heard nothing of the enemy about the forks of the Brandywine, and am confident they are not in that quarter, so that the earlier information must be wrong.
There was a long silent moment, and Washington stared at Sullivan’s note, names of fords, mention of roads that were unfamiliar, not on any map Washington had seen. He felt a cold sickness, a sudden dark panic, listened for a long moment, still no sounds from across the creek. He looked at Tilghman now, said, “We must pull them back. It could be a trap.”
The words flowed from him in a soft voice, and he saw Tilghman’s confusion.
“Go to General Greene immediately. Halt his advance. Tell him that General Sullivan has offered new information. He does not believe the British are in his quarter. It is quite possible that Howe is still right up there, close beside the Hessians. Have General Greene reverse his advance, and return his men to the near side of the creek.”
Tilghman seemed stung by the words, and Washington pointed across the creek, said, “Now, Colonel!”
Tilghman was quickly away, and Washington stared at the paper still in his hand, thought of John Sullivan. How can you not be certain? Must I go up there myself? No one can hide the march of an army. Have you not examined the roads? We move this army on information, and when that information is contradictory, we can do nothing at all. He wanted Sullivan there now, wanted to ask him, how can you send me reports that claim one thing, then change your mind? What am I to think? How are we to act?
Lafayette was in the doorway, a look of silent concern, and Washington moved to his chair, sat numbly, and Lafayette said, “Should I ride to General Sullivan, sir? If he is mistaken . . .”
“He is already mistaken, Mr. Lafayette. Either General Howe is upstream, or he is not, and I have letters claiming both.” All the excitement of the morning, all the optimism was drained from him, and he spread the papers on the small table in front of him, shook his head, heard a loud noise outside, a hard shout, and Lafayette was out quickly. The noise continued, coming into the house now, angry and profane, and Washington could not erase the daze in his mind, saw Lafayette again, who said, “Sir, there is a gentleman here, who claims to have information.”
The man pushed into the small office now, and Washington stared up at a fierce hulk of a man, the dark skin of an Indian.
“I am no gentleman, sir! But I do have information! If you do not withdraw this army, you will be surrounded! The British are coming across the creek at Jeffries Ford this very minute!”
Washington felt himself pushed back in his chair, pressed by the man’s thunderous voice. He could see others coming into the room, guards, men with bayonets, and the big man ignored the commotion behind him, said, “I will not speak to anyone but you, sir! You are in great peril!”
“Who are you, sir?”
The man backed away, seemed caught off guard by the question.
“I am Thomas Cheney. A farmer. I was riding along the creek up north a ways, and I ran straight into a flock of those lobster-backs!”
“Mr. Cheney, do you not think I would have been informed of this? General Sullivan . . .”
“Bah! Sullivan! I tried to tell him, and he ignores me, his men laughing, say I’m crazy-drunk. I am neither, sir!”
Tilghman was beside the man now.
“Are you aware, farmer, that spies are hanged? General, I am deeply sorry. I just returned . . . if I had been outside, he would not have been allowed to enter.”
Cheney ignored Tilghman, said, “I am not a spy, I am not a Tory, and I am not lying!” Cheney glanced at Washington’s papers, saw a map, said, “Look! See here!” He grabbed the map, ran his finger over the lines, said, “No, this is wrong! Up here, there is a ford. Jeffries! That’s where they are coming across!”
Washington felt a growing anger, blending with his frustration.
“Sir, I cannot just take your word. We have scouts in that quarter. Mr. Tilghman, escort this gentleman outside. Mr. Cheney, we will hold you here. You must understand . . .”
“Oh, I understand, sir! I will go out there and sit under a big oak tree, and watch your army get swallowed up!”
The man turned, and Tilghman followed him out, the guards moving out as well. His head was swirling, and he looked at the map. Wrong? The map is wrong? Is that man lying? How do we know?
Lafayette was in the doorway, said quietly, “Sir, General Greene has returned.”
“Yes, I’m certain he has.”
There was the sound of boots now, and Greene burst into the room, his face a black flame.
“Why, sir? We were in position, there was no sign of opposition! Why did we halt?”
“Calm yourself, General. Mr. Sullivan reports that there is no sign of the enemy upstream. From the nature of his information, it is possible that General Howe made a feint in that direction to misl
ead us. You might have advanced your division into the entire British army. We have no choice but to hold our position, Mr. Greene. We must know where the British strength lies. We must find General Howe.”
Greene stared at him with an open mouth, said nothing, and Washington added Greene’s impatience to his own. There was a knock at the door, and Hamilton was there, seemed surprised to see Greene, said, “General Washington, General Sullivan awaits your next instruction. He assumed that in light of his new information, you would not want to risk having his division cross the creek.”
Hamilton seemed unsure, seemed to wilt under Greene’s hard scowl. Washington felt a wave of misery now, the perfect plan, the carefully arranged trap now replaced by a complete lack of initiative.
“Mr. Hamilton, I wish you to return to General Sullivan and instruct him to continue scouting the crossings above his position. We must locate General Howe.”
Tilghman burst into the room, pointed behind him, said, “Sir! You must come!”
Tilghman was gone again, and Washington thought, What else must we endure? He pulled himself up from the chair, could hear shouts from outside, moved past Greene, who followed him outside.
The staff was all there, and all faces were turned to the north. He could hear it now, a steady roar of sound, not from the far side of the creek, but up above them, behind Sullivan’s line. It rolled across the low hills and thick brush in a steady rumbling wave, a storm of muskets, punctuated by the deep thunder of cannon fire. All around him, the voices were silent, each man trying to grasp the obvious, that Sullivan was suddenly engulfed in a fight no one predicted, from a direction no one had expected. Greene moved out in front of him, stared as they all stared, said in a cold hiss, “It seems that General Howe has found us.”
