Incredibly, Washington had secured the strategic high ground without so much as facing a single Hessian soldier or artillery piece posted at this elevated point that completely commanded the town. In essence and in masterful fashion, Washington had already fulfilled what became one of Napoleon’s fundamental maxims in the art of waging successful war: “the artillery should be advantageously placed, ground should be selected which is not commanded or liable to be turned, and, as far as possible, the guns should cover and command the surrounding country.”17 Enjoying a commanding view of Trenton at King Street’s head and with Captain Forrest’s two six-inch cannon deployed to command the extensive length of King Street flowing down the snow-covered slope, Washington now made a key decision on a stormy morning in which virtually every one of his command decisions went according to his well-conceived, prearranged plan. Instead of waiting for the arrival of Captain Forrest’s other two guns, the five and a half-inch howitzers, and Captains Hamilton’s and Baumann’s artillery, to come up to the head of King Street, Washington fully understood that time was now of the essence. With the initiative, momentum, and advantage now decidedly in his favor, the commander-in-chief was not about to waste a second of time while hundreds of Hessians attempted to form for action in town on lower ground below him.
To fully exploit the element of surprise, Washington instinctively realized that he simply could not waste any precious time for the slower-moving cannon to be brought up before opening fire to reap the maximum advantage by inflicting shock, damage, and more chaos upon his opponent. Ensuring that their guns were now dry and clean so as not to diminish firepower capabilities, Forrest’s Philadelphia artillerymen had kept the muzzles and touch holes, or vents, of barrels securely plugged with tompions during both the hazardous river crossing and the long, nighttime march. Even now, these expert Pennsylvania gunners yet protected touch holes and their precious loads of black powder from the moisture and snow. Knox’s wooden ammunition carts were likewise waterproof, thanks to thick, sturdy lids, a peaked roof design that allowed water to roll off the sides, and oilcloth coverings that provided protection to keep black powder dry.
A mounted Colonel Knox, literally larger than life in girth, personality, and command presence on a decisive morning when dynamic leadership was most needed, barked out the exact range of the forming Hessians on King Street below the muzzles of the two six-pounders and with Trenton’s center only around 250 yards distant. Forrest’s well-trained gunners, representing various ethnic groups that included artillerymen like Irishman Thomas Kennedy and German Jacob Harkishimer, made careful calculations in regard to precise elevation and range adjustments of the long cannon barrels of the six-pounders.
Having endured the nightmarish march to Trenton without “Shoes and Watch Coats,” as lamented the Philadelphia-born Captain Forrest, who had watched the men’s suffering in anguish, the Pennsylvania artillerymen took careful aim with their big six-pounders, aligning cannon barrels to fire straight down King Street and sighting on the mass of Hessians attempting to organize below them. Well-trained to hit British warships at long range to defend their hometown of Philadelphia, these expert cannoneers aimed their six-pounders on targets now at much closer range, calculating to unleash their fire at a low angle to sweep the open street clean of Hessian soldiers.
Now beside his personal escort of the young, aristocratic dandies of the Philadelphia Light Horse, under the chivalric, Philadelphia-born Captain Morris, while the cavalrymen’s distinctive yellow silk banner snapped in the stiff wind blowing across the frozen heights, a mounted Washington surveyed all before him without missing a detail, taking everything in. While the snow tumbled down in its quiet, monotonous fashion without a let up, he suddenly felt an increasing measure of impatience, desiring for his worn-out cannoneers and artillery horses to move even faster in order to get all of Knox’s artillery pieces into their proper, advantageous positions along the high ground. Meanwhile, Forrest’s first guns, the big six-pounders, were ready to unleash their wrath upon the most hated soldiers in all America. The mastermind behind the farsighted decision to transport all eighteen guns across the Delaware and all the way to the King Street’s head nearly ten miles distant, Washington appropriately now gave the first order to open, shouting “Fire!” for all to hear.
Now waging war on his own home soil of New Jersey and before his veteran brigade aligned in protective fashion near Forrest’s six-pounders, Stirling described with pride in a letter how, “we soon got two field pieces at play.”Breaking the heightened tension among Washington’s anxious troops aligned in a lengthy line at King Street’s head, Captain Forrest’s six-pounders, which were sufficiently depressed to fire down King Street, opened up, roaring angrily in unison. Ringing over Trenton, this first eruption of Knox’s artillery from the high ground north of Trenton announced to a very surprised Rall brigade that the much-ridiculed Washington had not only secured the strategic high ground, but also had gained a tight grip on the area’s most strategic position.
Beautiful music to American ears, the resounding crash of Forrest’s Philadelphia guns warmed the spirits of Washington and his soldiers, who now realized that their most powerful arm was in action. No doubt, an enthusiastic cheer was raised by nearby infantrymen, yet shivering in the cold, who knew that their chances for success were continuing to rise. Best of all, Washington neither saw nor heard any Hessian return fire erupting from any of the Rall brigade’s half dozen cannon in response. Ordered to open up by Washington himself who remained near Captain Forrest’s booming guns and looked on benignly like an admiring parent on the chaos among the Hessians in Trenton with a calm certitude that denoted satisfaction, the fiery eruption of the Pennsylvanian’s cannonfire so soon after the first American troops had secured the high ground at King Street’s head caused considerable consternation among the Germans. Manned by expert cannoneers whom fairly lusted for the opportunity to punish Rall’s men who had vanquished so many Americans in the past, the Pennsylvania field pieces bucked and fumed in rapid sequence after hurling their deadly missiles down King Street.
It is not known, but perhaps Captain Forrest’s Irish fifer, Daniel Dennis, now played an inspiring, lively martial air, or a number of young drummer boys, such as George Weaver, Christopher Coleman, or Daniel Syfred, beat their drums to encourage their “long-arm” comrades, who busily worked their six-pounders that belched fire down the slopes. If so, then any such American martial music echoing from the high ground north symbolically countered the frantic beating of drums by Hessian drummer boys to rally Rall’s troops in the lower ground below. 18
Meanwhile, about a quarter mile to the southwest of Forrest’s commanding position and following on the heels of Captain Flahaven’s onrushing vanguard of New Jersey Continentals after the stubborn German jaegers were hurled rearward from Dickinson’s stately Hermitage, Colonel John Stark continued to lead Sullivan’s Division straight down the River Road that now offered an open avenue into the lower, or southwestern end of Trenton. Shocked by the sight of so many of Flahaven’s New Jersey and Stark’s New Hampshire soldiers charging at them with fixed bayonets, Lieutenant Grothausen led his green-clad jaegers farther down the River Road in a rapid retreat, while the elated Continental’s war-cries split the icy air. Before they were overrun by the New Englanders, the reeling jaegers headed toward the safety of the lower town, seeking shelter from Sullivan’s raging storm.19
With Stark’s rawboned New Hampshire boys now leading the way with their typical aggressiveness, the first of Sullivan’s Continentals gained the town’s southwestern outskirts. Here, on open ground, snow-covered fields and meadows, and facing the corner of the River Road and Second Street, Captain Moulder’s Philadelphia gunners brought their four-pounders, imported all the way from an Atlantic port in France like Brest, to the forefront in support of Sullivan’s onrushing infantrymen, who pushed steadily eastward in a determined effort to gain a toehold on Second Street and toward Trenton’s commercial district in the lower town. With silk
battle flags snapping in the brisk winds that howled from the northeast, Sullivan’s troops swarmed onward at a rapid pace, despite the clinging snow, surging into harm’s way with unbridled enthusiasm. These veteran New Englanders were on a collision course with the elite troops of the Knyphausen Regiment, which was yet forming for action on Queen Street both above and below Second Street.20
While Sullivan’s and Greene’s columns had launched their simultaneous offensive effort from two different directions to fulfill Washington’s tactical vision of a double envelopment, no such close defensive coordination existed between the British and their German allies. Panicked members of the “British light horse” immediately deserted the Rall brigade. They rushed out of their assigned quarters at the two-story Friends (Quaker) Meeting House, built in 1739, on Fourth Street, and hurriedly mounted up. Shocked that they had been surprised by Americans, these unnerved Englishmen then galloped across the Assunpink bridge, forsaking their German allies and Trenton’s defense.
With Washington’s cannon roaring from two directions and the cannonade’s fury echoing ominously over the snowy landscape like a summer lightning storm sweeping along the humid Potomac at Washington’s Mount Vernon, these panicked Englishmen, who considered themselves elite troopers, forgot all about their pride and lofty reputations. They now only thought about escaping the howling tide of onrushing rebels. But these Britons were not alone in their wild flight from Trenton. In a letter, Richard Henry Lee described with contempt how a good many “Tories that were in Town scampered off at the beginning of the engagement.”21
Meanwhile, knowing the supreme importance of amassing as many of Knox’s cannon as possible in the most advantageous terrain, Washington continued to bolster his artillery alignment across the high ground at the head of King Street. Drawn by frothing, sweat-streaked horses that could hardly pull their heavy loads any farther from the night-long exertions, Forrest’s other two guns, the five and a half-inch howitzers at last reached the commanding terrain above Trenton. The two howitzers were hurriedly set up by the Philadelphia artillerymen in the freshly fallen snow just to the left of the two blazing six-pounders, which continued to hurl a hail of iron solid projectiles down King Street.
Like its sister six-pounders, Forrest’s howitzers, “the best of [their] class,” packed a mighty punch: exactly why Washington now desired their careful placement on strategic high ground overlooking Trenton. In fact, they were Washington’s most lethal artillery pieces at long range, which was an invaluable asset on a wintery battlefield. Unlike Forrest’s six-pounders that fired only a single round ball of solid iron at long range targets, Knox’s five and a half-inch guns hurled hollow cannonballs—or shells—that exploded in murderous shell-bursts above densely packed enemy formations to cause a deadly hail of shrapnel to break out from a thin iron casing, spiraling downward and wreaking havoc on the heads and shoulders of massed infantry.
By adding more muscle to Forrest’s fast-firing cannon from the snowy heights and knowing that massing artillery firepower was the key to vanquishing a full brigade of Hessians—a feat not yet accomplished in this war—Washington was only beginning to wage his own personal artillery war this cold morning. With all of Forrest’s Pennsylvania guns now blasting away in the softly falling snow, Washington now directed a newly arrived battery of capable New York gunners into action. And in the process, he additionally verified the wisdom of having placed artillery units at the head of brigades in column in order to get as many cannon in action as soon as possible. Arriving on the commanding terrain after much strenuous effort, this fine New York artillery company of two six-pounders was led by an especially aggressive, talented young commander, Alexander Hamilton. Ironically, however, this transplanted New Yorker felt that he had much to prove to himself and a good many others in part because he was yet considered a foreigner by other Americans because of his West Indies roots.
Upon first glance at the firebrand West Indian, such outstanding officer qualities seemed almost incongruous because of Hamilton’s small size (slender, not short, as generally assumed) and youthful appearance that beguiled the depth of his tenacity, fierce ambition, and the hot competitive fire that burned within him. However, Washington early recognized and appreciated Hamilton’s sterling leadership qualities that were exceptional for such a young artillery commander. For this reason, Hamilton’s New York State Company of Artillery had advanced at the head of Stirling’s Virginia, Delaware, and Pennsylvania brigade during the trek to Trenton. In a commanding voice, Hamilton barked out a set of orders and his six-pounders were quickly set up by his New York gunners on the high ground at the head of Queen Street, just to the right, or east, of King Street, on the left of Forrest’s four guns that continued to roar as if there was no tomorrow.
Here, at the head of Queen Street and beside Washington’s guardian troopers of the Philadelphia Light Horse, under the recently chastised Captain Morris, whose cavalrymen’s neighing horses showed nervousness when positioned so close to Knox’s booming cannon, Washington also orchestrated the deployment of the two six-pounders of Hamilton’s New York company on the high ground without a moment’s delay. Bellowing orders, he extended the row of artillery eastward across the snow-covered heights.
Hamilton’s guns were now in the best of hands, with Lieutenants Thomas Deane and Thomas Thompson providing solid leadership to inspire their artillerymen to do their best this morning. Most of all, the aristocratic Virginian had complete confidence in this gregarious New York captain from a lowly background, and his faith was rewarded. Especially on this morning of decision, Hamilton was especially “enterprising, quick in his perceptions and his judgment intuitively great,” wrote the admiring commander-in-chief of his hard-fighting gamecock. Not surprisingly, Washington maintained his high esteem for the gifted West Indian to his life’s end, never forgetting what Hamilton had accomplished in the struggle for liberty, especially at Trenton.
Of course, Colonel Knox also greatly assisted in the judicious placement of his artillery along the high ground perch, allowing his seemingly limitless “long-arm” expertise to rise to the fore. The swift deployment of Hamilton’s New York cannon in this key high ground position was not without risk because Lieutenant Wiederhold’s Knyphausen pickets in the first houses at northern end of Queen Street yet “fired at the enemy, who were forming for battle on the city’s height,” scribbled the lieutenant in his diary. As if to compensate for his ”small [but not short], slender, and with a delicate frame,” the handsome, teenage captain was known not only for his feisty fighting spirit, but also for wearing his cocked hat pulled low at a jaunty angle, even in fair weather.
At this time, Hamilton also wore a plain, but surprisingly warm, winter cape that had been crudely fashioned manner from an old, dirty blanket into a durable, makeshift winter overcoat. Looking almost like a drab Mexican poncho, this unique “military” apparel was likewise worn by Hamilton’s New York cannoneers, who had smartly adjusted to wintertime conditions through clever improvisation. But Hamilton hardly needed any specific instructions about the urgency of getting his six-pounders in action as quickly as possible because he was entirely capable to choosing the best ground to maximize his gun’s capabilities to the utmost. Hamilton’s high-spirited gunners were now more than “ready, every devil of them,” wrote the dashing captain, whose intelligence beamed like a shining star. Along with Forrest’s artillery unit that represented Pennsylvania with typical regional pride, Hamilton’s artillery company of sixty-eight officers and enlisted men was also not a Continental unit, but a New York state command that operated under within the overall framework of Knox’s Continental Regiment of Artillery.22
By this time, Captain Hamilton, despite only age nineteen and hardly looking the part, was one of the army’s best artillery officers. He was also a natural leader of men. And this self-confident young man already possessed a lofty reputation as a brilliant philosophical writer of influential, and rather remarkable, revolutionary pamphlets. Even
more than writing with a skill seldom seen in the colonies, he loved and admired his six-pounders almost as if they were his children, and not something of cold iron cast in a foundry for the express purpose of blowing apart British and Hessian soldiers. With a ruddy-faced complexion and thick mane of sandy-colored hair that appealed to the ladies young and old, Hamilton was the highest-ranking West Indian in Washington’s Army. Although Hamilton, born on the isle of Nevis, grew up in a slave-owning, dysfunctional family on the tropical island St. Croix, dominated by slavery, he shortly became an outspoken opponent of slavery, adhering to the revolution’s most enlightened principles.
Lithe and overflowing with nervous energy, Hamilton was not only a bright, studious intellectual, but also every inch a fighter. At the age of twelve and despite a pious nature, Hamilton had written to a letter to a friend that he wished for a war to escape the Caribbean and to make a name for himself. He now possessed not only that long-awaited coveted opportunity, but also an irrepressible spirit and a temperament that blazed as hot as his native Caribbean sun on a July day. From a somewhat hazy, mysterious family background of a generally unsavory nature and marked by a “whole countenance that was decidedly Scottish,” this young immigrant from the Caribbean hoped to gain widespread recognition, if not a measure of redemption, from battlefield accomplishments. Therefore, this complex intellectual who was fluent in French, a brilliant writer and revolutionary pamphleteer of note, and a lover of the classics, was highly motivated amid the cold hell of this morning that he would never forget. Like a Crusader of old campaigning in the Holy Land, Hamilton wanted to win his fair share of the glory, as if to erase a dark, trouble-filled family past that had left him virtually an orphan after his mother’s early death.
Hamilton was the precocious, youngest son of a ne’er-do-well Scottish merchant, who abandoned his mother of French Huguenot descent. His father’s sudden departure resulted in his mother’s remarriage, which were considered illegal under Danish law. In consequence, Alexander had been considered illegitimate under the convoluted legal logic and inane complexities of eighteenth-century Danish law that yet confounds legal experts to this day. His mother had been overburdened by the tainted social stigma of “adultery,” causing the young man much personal grief and humiliation. Hamilton’s troubled, dark past in Christiansted, St. Croix’s capital, was something that he wanted to wipe out by personal achievements on the snowy field of Trenton.
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