by Ron Carter
Beyond Scheffer, Piel saw faint silhouettes of men nearly hidden in the storm, running from west to east across the lower end of King Street, towards the Assunpink Creek, and he started when he realized they were Hessians. One second later he peered north, up King Street, and a look of puzzled wonder crossed his face. Two blocks to the north, where King and Queen Streets formed the big junction with the Pennington and Princeton Roads, through the driving snow and sleet, he could make out the dark forms of mounted men hauling skidding horses to a stop while other men running on foot instantly unhitched four cannon and swung the muzzles to bear down both King and Queen Streets.
Piel narrowed his eyes to peer intently, and the scene was burned into his brain forever.
Americans were swarming around the cannon. Scarecrow men with long wet hair flying in the wind and sleet, dressed in rags and tatters, some bare legged, feet wrapped in burlap or animal hides or anything they could find, beards dirty and filled with ice and snow. They clutched muskets, or swords, or axes, or pitchforks, or anything they could swing, and they were shouting like wild men. Terrified at a sight that could only have come straight from the depths of purgatory, Piel gasped and reached for the doorknob just as Colonel Rall opened the front door of the house and stepped out into the storm, still latching his cape, and started for his horse.
At that instant the first deafening cannon blast thundered from the head of King Street, and Piel stood in horror as twenty-eight pounds of American grapeshot shredded limbs and ripped shrubs and shattered windows and splintered housefronts as it swept down King Street, knocking over Hessian soldiers as far as Piel could see.
Notes
The chronology of December 24-26, 1776, is important to understand because the sequence of events illustrates how the events favored the Americans.
During the day of December 24, 1776, Colonel Rall personally patrolled the area surrounding Trenton, but had seen nothing to cause him alarm. Late that evening, General James Grant in Princeton received a Tory visitor who informed him of Washington’s previous war councils. During the next fortyeight hours, General Grant twice advised Colonel Rall to beware of an attack, possibly from General Stirling’s forces, who had been rumored in the area, but because of Rall’s personal patrols and his own personal arrogance, he discarded Grant’s warnings (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 236).
Christmas Day brought a change in the weather. The bright morning sun caused a thaw, but late in the day, storm clouds began rolling in from the northeast (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 237, 246-47). The storm eventually broke around eleven P.M. and continued throughout December 26.
The morning of December 25, Major Friederich von Dechow of the Hessian Knyphausen Regiment urged Rall to evacuate their main stores of supplies and munitions to prevent them from falling into American hands. Rall hotly refused because, again, repeated patrols were not turning up any immediate threats (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 237).
Around seven o’clock that night, Colonel Rall played a game of checkers with Stacy Potts, but gunfire interrupted their game. A band of about thirty Americans, thought to be farmers, had attacked the pickets at the junction of Pennington and Princeton Roads, wounding about six Hessians under Lossburg’s command. Rall concluded this must have been the attack Grant had written about (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 237-38).
Major Dechow was extremely concerned at this turn of events and when Rall refused to have any pickets stand guard anywhere in Trenton, he posted his own men (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 237-38).
About 10:00 P.M. on December 25, Colonel Rall left for Abraham Hunt’s party. Hunt was an American militia officer with a peculiar ability to remain on good terms with both the Americans and the Hessians and so was trusted by both sides (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 238). In the early-morning hours of December 26, while Rall was playing cards, a Tory messenger arrived at Hunt’s house and left a written message for Rall, which Rall pocketed but never read. The message warned of an American attack (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 238).
The storm still raged in the early-morning hours of December 26 and Major Dechow finally called in his pickets, leaving Trenton without a warning system of any kind (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 258).
Lieutenant Jacob Piel arose about five o’clock on December 26. Rall was still asleep when Piel heard musket shots two hours later. Piel woke Rall who stepped into the street just as Colonel Henry Knox’s cannon fired the first shot from the head of King Street (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 258-59).
Additional information and summaries of the events covered in this chapter can be found in Higginbotham, The War of American Independence, pp. 165-68; Leckie, George Washington’s War, pp. 316-21; and Mackesy, The War for America, p. 112.
McKonkey’s Ferry, Pennsylvania
December 25, 1776
CHAPTER VIII
December 25th, 1776
McKonkey’s Ferry, Pennsylvania
My Dear Brigitte:
Yesterday General Washington had a long meeting with some officers. This morning we were given fried corn mush with brown sugar and crisped pork, our first good breakfast in weeks. General Washington relieved us of usual duties until one o’clock this afternoon, and each man received three days cooked rations to save in a blanket or knapsack. At two o’clock we are to form with our units with the cooked rations, one blanket, and forty cartridges to receive our orders. We are left to guess the reason for all this, but I believe General Washington intends to attack Trenton. By the time you receive this letter, you should know the reason as well as I.
The weather has been harsh, but this morning the sun is out and there is a thaw. However there are storm clouds to the northeast and a wind is rising from that direction and we are expecting bad weather by nightfall. The Delaware River lays between our camp and Trenton, and if we are ordered to attack, we will have to cross it. It is wide, and large pieces of ice are starting to fill the channel. I believe there has been a heavy thaw up north.
I have been assigned to a regiment commanded by General Hugh Mercer who is a brave and fine officer. He fought well at Long Island and is much admired and trusted by his men. If we do attack Trenton, I am certain Colonel John Glover of Marblehead will be assigned with his regiment to move the army across the Delaware to the New Jersey side. His men are mostly fishermen and have given fine service as soldiers as well as moving the army across two rivers under difficult circumstances.
I am well, except I have lost weight. Food is scarce, indeed, we have learned many lessons about food, viz., that porcupine is quite tasty when roasted properly. My clothing has fared badly and I am dressed from whatever I can find, but am generally warm and protected. Our army is poorly, but spirit remains strong; however, we have desertions daily. My friend Eli Stroud and I brought back thirteen deserters three days ago and were much relieved when they were not shot. Soldiering is not as expected, and I would discontinue if I did not know this is the work of the Almighty.
The life of a soldier is uncertain, and should I go to battle and not return, I want you to know you are in my mind daily with tender thoughts. I ask you to give my warmest greetings to your mother and the children, and remember me to Matthew when next you write to him. Please share the contents of this brief letter with my beloved mother and sister.
God bless you all,
Billy Weems
The sounds of dripping snowmelt were all around in the warm, bright noon sunshine as Billy sat cross-legged in the lean-to and carefully reread the letter. Once again felt the rise in his heart as he saw Brigitte in his mind, honey-colored hair, blue eyes, heart-shaped face. He folded the paper and slipped out of his coat made from doubled layers of old gray blanket. Carefully he opened the slit through the inside layer and drew out the thin oilcloth packet. He unfolded it and placed the pencil with the pad of paper on it, then added the folded letter to the other five he had carefully written by firelight in the bitter cold of the pas
t four weeks but never mailed. He rewrapped them all and slipped the packet back through the slit. He was working his arms back into the coat when he heard the call of his name from behind.
Eli dropped to his haunches beside Billy. “Another letter?”
Billy nodded.
“The girl?”
“Yes.”
“Going to send this one?”
Billy closed the coat and tied it with the cord around his waist, and said nothing.
Eli shook his head. “Why write if you never send them?”
Billy shrugged. “Never can tell. Might send them some day.”
Eli wiped at his beard. “We’re supposed to form ranks about two o’clock, right after we eat. Someone wants to read something to us.”
Billy raised questioning eyes. “I heard. Read what?”
“Don’t know. Someone said from a newspaper.” He glanced northeast, across the river. “Storm coming.”
Billy nodded. “Before night. Seen Turlock?”
“Yes. He’s assigned with Glover.”
They stood in line for boiled beef and cabbage that was greasy and old and steaming coffee that was strong, but they fell silent and ate with grateful reverence. They went back to receive a thick slice of brown bread smothered with blackstrap molasses, and they returned to their own campfire to sit down and eat slowly, savoring the heavy sweetness while the breeze stiffened and began to rattle bare tree branches overhead.
East of them, General Washington sat his horse on the riverbank, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed as he studied the channel. For two days, freezing weather had cleared out the floating ice without freezing solid from shore to shore. Then the unexpected thaw had set in during the early-morning hours and now great chunks of ice were once more grinding their way south to the Atlantic. For a long time Washington watched and gauged and then rubbed weary eyes with his fingers. The ice was gaining and if the thaw held, the channel would be choked by nightfall.
He drew and released a great sigh, then reined his horse around at the sound of an incoming rider. Major James Wilkinson loped his black mare up to the general and pulled her to a stop, then thrust out a sealed letter.
“General Horatio Gates asked me to deliver this to you, sir.”
Washington looked at the paper for a moment, unable to make sense of Gates sending him a letter when Gates was supposed to be in camp helping the army prepare to cross the river.
“What a time to be handing me a letter! Where is he?”
“I left him in Philadelphia early this morning, sir.”
Washington’s forehead wrinkled in stunned surprise. “Philadelphia? What’s he doing in Philadelphia?”
“I understood him to say he’s on his way to Congress, sir.”
For an instant Washington stared, then opened the letter and scanned it before he shoved it inside his tunic, sickened by what was now so clear.
Gone to Philadelphia! to Congress to report this as a failure before it’s begun. He doesn’t want to be part of this—wants to replace me!
Without another word he tapped spur to his mount and moved away from the riverbank at an easy lope, Wilkinson following.
At twenty minutes before two o’clock, orders rang out and the army moved west through the woods one mile into the open fields, out of sight of the New Jersey riverbank. At two o’clock the general officers handed out sealed, written orders to the regimental officers, who opened them and stood silent, unmoving while they read them. At ten minutes past two the officers stood before their men and each read their orders aloud. Not a man moved or spoke as the concise words and phrases came clearly in the cold December air.
Cross the Delaware—march south in two columns—total silence—do not get separated from your officers—cannon—advance patrols. Hit Trenton hard and fast at five o’clock in the morning—Sullivan’s command at south end of town—Greene and Washington at north end—surround the town—storm the streets—do not stop until Trenton is taken.
The officers finished reading, and quiet, shocked murmuring broke out while men glanced sideways at each other, faces white, eyes wide.
Cross the Delaware and take Trenton at night?
The voices of the officers cracked out once more. “Attention to the orders of General Washington until they are read in full!”
As the men came back to attention Billy glanced up and down the ranks. Not one soldier was dressed in anything faintly resembling a uniform. Their heads were bare except for the few that were covered with scarves tied under their chins to keep ears from freezing. Coats, trousers, shirts, shoes, made of anything they could find to wrap and tie around their bodies. He could not remember the last time any man had shaved or bathed. Eyes and cheeks were sunken and hollow; half the men could not stand straight because hunger cramps had buckled them in half for so long. They could not remember a time they weren’t starving. The single exception was Eli, standing next to him, dressed in his wolf skin coat and parka and knee-length moccasins, from all appearances an Iroquois Indian. The rest stood there in silence with the wind in their faces and tiny ice crystals beginning to sting as they came slanting.
Billy wiped his sleeve across his mouth, trying to control the fear that rose within.
“You will stand at attention for the reading.”
Billy straightened and waited and the officer’s voice came strong.
“Written by Common Sense, published December nineteenth. ‘The American Crisis, number one.’ ”
He paused and then continued.
“ ‘These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it NOW, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have the consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.’ ”
The officer stopped and the only sounds were the great black ravens circling the nearly deserted camp back by the river, scavenging for food crumbs. Billy felt the hair on his arms rise and from the corner of his eye he saw Eli stiffen as the officer read on.
“ ‘What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly—’Tis dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed, if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.’ ”
The words struck into Billy’s heart. “ ‘Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared, that she has a right (not only to TAX) but “to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER,” and if being bound in that manner is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious, for so unlimited a power can belong only to GOD.’ ”
The hush held while the officer read. When he finished, the men stood still, held by a feeling that had begun in each of their souls and slowly grown to fill them. They swallowed and finally glanced around, aware something rare was happening, something that was lifting them above themselves in their clarity of purpose, their resolve. It caught and held and bound them together, and they did not speak of it directly, but as they looked at each other they knew.
The officer concluded. “That is all. You will move over to the river behind Taylor’s Island to begin loading in the sequence called out in your orders. You will be given the password for this operation before you load into the boats. Good luck. May the Almighty be with us.”
For a time there was low murmuring as the power of Paine’s words sunk deep into them. Billy glanced at Eli. “Did you feel it? When he read?”
Eli nodded. “I felt it. Strong. I don’t see any summer soldiers here.”
It was enough. They said no more as the men began to move back towards the woods and the river, slowly, steadily, in the sequence called out by their orders. General Stephen’s regiment was in the lead, followed by a light cavalry command and some infantry under Captain John Flahaven and Captain William Washington, a distant relative of General George Washington
; both commands had orders to lead the attack on the Hessian pickets on the two roads into Trenton. As they moved through the trees towards the riverbank, the rising northeast wind drove clouds to blot out the blue sky, and then the sun, and the temperature began to fall.
The officers rode beside their men, watching, gauging mood, calculating their strength, their endurance, offering a word here, a hand there. Major James Wilkinson worked his mare through the trees, twisting in the saddle to avoid the bare branches, watching as he rode. He glanced back at those behind and studied them and his eyes dropped to the ground, and suddenly he reined his horse to a stop. For long moments he sat, peering down at the tracks where his men had walked shuffling in the snow, and he murmured, “The snow. Tinged with blood. Their feet.”
An old soldier raised his bearded face. “What was that, sir?”
Wilkinson looked away for a moment and cleared his throat before he dared look at the man. “Nothing. Carry on.”
He looked ahead at the long line of tattered men waiting their turn to cross an impossible river and attack the Hessian army, then Wilkinson turned to look back into the silent, gaunt, bearded faces of those yet coming, and suddenly an overpowering pride welled up inside and he reined his mount away from the column for a moment while he wiped his coat sleeve across his eyes.
The army gathered on the frozen bank of the river near the stately three-storied stone home of William McKonkey and the ferry, and the officers called their commands to silence. “Men, General Washington has given us the password, and we give it to you now. If for any reason you are challenged while we are carrying out our orders on this operation, you run the risk of being shot if you cannot deliver the password. It is this.”
