With two full Hessian infantry regiments moving relentlessly up King Street as if nothing could stop them, either Washington or Knox, or both, hurriedly shouted orders for the fast-working cannoneers to now make a key adjust of munitions in an attempt to parry the day’s most serious threat. This new set of directives called for the young Pennsylvania gunners positioned at King Street’s head to now employ their most lethal form of anti-personnel ammunition: canister and grape (primarily a naval round). Such deadly charges, especially when delivered at close range, were the best anti-personnel munition for breaking up a massed infantry assault, especially one that was boxed in along a narrow front and crammed between rows of houses on both sides of King Street. And as Washington had earlier envisioned with tactical clarity, the best served and most lethal American artillery unit that possessed the largest supply of canister and grape in all of Washington’s Army, was now located in the perfect place at exactly the right time: around the head of King Street, Captain Forrest’s two six-pounders and two five and a half-inch howitzers were now poised with an eager group of experienced and well-trained gunners ready to deliver severe punishment.
At this crucial moment with everything now hanging in the balance, including America’s very life, this decided “long-arm” advantage for Washington, who had already anticipated this crucial showdown on King Street, was no mere accident. Significantly, the resolute Virginian’s foresight, the hallmark of both Washington’s leadership throughout this morning of destiny, had masterfully set this stage for the most dramatic of showdowns, because he had long anticipated that King Street would become “the vital center of the battle.” Rall, consequently, was now directing his assault formation—massed to deliver volleys and for protection against cavalry—straight into the midst of Washington’s greatest concentration of strength, especially artillery but also his best infantry, as the Virginian had anticipated with clarity. Now at his best, Washington’s string of insightful, well-conceived decisions went all the way back to having first integrated artillery pieces with each infantry brigade on the march to Trenton to now bestow a decided advantage at this critical moment.
Washington’s initial placement of Captain Forrest’s artillery at the head of the main assault column revealed exactly why the two largest Philadelphia guns, six-pounders—double the caliber size of the Hessians’ cannon—and also the five and a half-inch howitzer were deployed on the most strategic position of the Trenton battlefield at King Street’s head was due to Washington’s well-conceived tactical design. Trained to utilize grapeshot to hammer British warships in Philadelphia’s defense, Forrest’s highly skilled cannoneers and guns were not only now in an ideal position but also possessed especially lethal and distinctive firepower capabilities, beyond that of any other of Washington’s artillery commands.
Indeed, Captain Forrest’s Pennsylvania unit possessed the most lethal capabilities, thanks to the six-pounders and howitzers which were both especially effective in firing grape and canister, to inflict the greatest possible damage upon massed infantry. Now waging war just northeast from their native Philadelphia that these Pennsylvania state cannoneers had sworn to defend with their lives, ironically, Forrest’s command had yet to be formally accepted into the Continental Army by Congress. At this key moment in America’s most important battle, these six-pounders and five and a half-inch howitzer even now officially operated under the overall control of the state of Pennsylvania.
With a sweeping view of the wide, expansive panorama below him from his high ground perch at King Street’s head, meanwhile, Washington continued to watch the relentless advance of Rall’s counterattack rolling onward up the icy slope. In some awe at the martial sight but eager to destroy the majesty of the parade ground-like formations, Washington viewed the Rall Regiment grenadiers and von Lossberg fusiliers moving closer in disciplined step and with all their colorful battle flags flapping in the brisk, northeast wind. Steeled by this imposing sight of the relentless Hessian advance and rows of steel bayonets, Washington’s most timely decision was guaranteed to wreak havoc upon Rall’s most audacious gamble just in time. Amid a flurry of activity ignited by Washington’s more recent order, Forrest’s artillerymen of the six-pounders and the five and a half-inch howitzer went to work with zeal. In frantic haste, the Philadelphia gunners began to switch from solid, or round, shot and shell, respectively, to lethal loads of both canister and grapeshot.
Relishing this golden opportunity to severely punish hundreds of finely trained grenadiers in their fancy uniforms and to smash lofty Hessian reputations and Rall’s ambitions by way of their own skill, Forrest’s cannoneers now brought forth heavy loads of large iron balls—canister and grapeshot—wrapped in canvas and mounted on wooded bases that perfectly fit the cannon barrel’s caliber. One of the myths of the battle of Trenton was that Washington’s gunners possessed only makeshift canister—pieces of iron, nails, cut-up horseshoes—which was not the case. Some young, but veteran, Pennsylvania cannoneers, with ears yet ringing from the repeated eruption of fire from iron barrels, now might have smiled at one another, because they knew that these canister loads were their most lethal anti-personnel munition in their arsenal.
For a seasoned gunner, the relatively simple procedure of switching to grapeshot and canister now transformed Captain Forrest’s well-positioned cannon essentially into giant shotguns: the deadliest of weapons that could be directed against a concentrated mass of advancing infantry, especially when caught in the open at close range. Clearly, once again thinking ahead in tactical terms as throughout this Thursday morning, Washington had saved this classic artilleryman’s coup-de-grace—his ultimate artillery ace in the hole—for the last, and his decision could not have been better timed. Washington might have even held up his artillery’s canister and grape fire for a tense few minutes in order to allow Rall’s relentless moving mass of disciplined grenadiers and fusiliers to surge even closer and farther up King Street to within a more lethal killing range. If so, then he allowed Rall’s dense formations to ease up the open, ascending slope and into what in essence was a natural shooting gallery and a canister-and-grapeshot ambush of sorts. Forrest’s anxious Philadelphia gunners, maintaining discipline and resisting temptation to fire, held their long linstocks with lit matches above their cannon’s touch holes, while the ceaseless pounding of seemingly countless Hessian drums grew louder in the biting cold.
When the decisive moment came at last, never before had some of Washington’s best artillerymen, who must have fairly salivated at the tantalizing sight of so many disciplined grenadiers advancing in formation toward them, been presented with a more inviting target. By this time, Rall’s grenadiers had relentlessly pushed north up the icebound street around 150 feet and all the way “to the first houses in the street,” and just before crossing the little wooden bridge over Petty’s Run, the rain-swollen watercourse that ran east-west across the town’s northern outskirts, before turning to flow south on King Street’s west side.
What Knox’s gunners, lusting at the opportunity and delighted while simultaneously yet awed by the magnificent martial sight, now saw before them was the artilleryman’s greatest dream come true: a concentrated, dense formation of blue-coated soldiers—the legendary Rall grenadiers, who had long made an easy game (little more than sport) of vanquishing untrained American farm boys, masquerading as soldiers, with impunity—coming steadily on in a slow-moving mass and up the gentle, open incline lined with a soft blacket of snow. All the while, teenage Hessian drummer boys continued their rapid tapping of instruments with a steady cadence, encouraging the grenadiers and fusiliers farther up the slope and closer to Knox’s now silent row of cannon.
No longer able to wait any longer with the Hessian ranks now within easy range, Washington at last roared, “Fire!” at the top of his lungs. Aligned across the snow-covered high ground while a blustery wind blew to the gunner’s backs, Forrest’s four cannon, loaded with grapeshot and canister, erupted in unison. Fiery blasts exploded
from the Pennsylvania cannon’s mouths, both the long six-pounders and the five and a half-inch howitzers, lighting up the strategic heights at King Street’s head with fire. Screaming in their flight from the high ground, this deadly hail of projectiles swept down the King Street with a vengeance. Here, just below Petty’s Run, the terrible impact of the lethal iron spray stopped the foremost of Rall’s finely uniformed grenadiers in their tracks. Men were cut down almost as if a giant scythe was sweeping effortlessly through tall, thin stalks of ripe spring wheat on a September afternoon.
Torrents of grapeshot and canister were funneled down the sloping ground of narrow King Street like a whirlwind, striking with tremendous force. Salvoes of small-sized projectiles knocked down clumps of soldiers, cutting swathes out of the ranks. All the while, an eerie clinking sound rose from the hail of projectiles hitting the rows of upheld Hessian bayonets and accouterments. Color bearers fell into the street and colorful flags plunged downward at the head of the Hessian formation, but these cherished banners were soon picked up and then carried onward in the tumult.
After the Pennsylvania field pieces recoiled violently from the unleashing of their lethal loads, Forrest’s cannoneers and nearby American riflemen marveled at the cannon’s effectiveness. They very likely cheered the exhilarating sight of grenadiers falling in bunches. No doubt feeling an equal sense of satisfaction, Washington, who never looked more inspiring to his men than when riding along the high ground, also might have momentarily joined in such an ad hoc celebration on the windswept heights.
With close friends, perhaps going back to innocent childhood days, and comrades falling around them amid the hail of iron projectiles, which proved more terrifying than the young soldier’s fear of their own stern officers, the grenadier’s legendary discipline began to crumble for the first time on American soil. Rall’s counterattack up the ascending slope was shaken not only by the deadly combination of grapeshot and canister from the front, but also from a fiery stream of Mercer’s musketry that gnawed the vulnerable left flank. Severely punished by blistering fire from two directions, north and west, the head of Rall’s formation reeled from the shock of multiple blows. To escape the leaden hail, which now mixed with the yet raging snowstorm to create a wintry nightmare for massed troops surging up King Street, some panicked grenadiers on the Rall Regiment’s hard-hit left flank broke ranks to seek shelter in houses on the street’s west side. But these Hessians now only met an even closer-range flank-fire, and perhaps even a flurry of musket-butts and a few bayonets, of Mercer’s soldiers fighting from houses bordering King Street’s west side.2
Also adding to Rall’s vexing tactical dilemma, Washington’s infantrymen on the heights now unleashed a full frontal fire that also smashed into the head of the Hessian formation. For long-range firing down the open slope and to guarantee a higher degree of accuracy, Washington had gathered a detachment of the best riflemen of both Stirling’s brigade and the right of Stephen’s brigade, placing them on the high ground near Forrest’s blazing cannon. As throughout this campaign, Washington was once again thinking ahead. Even though at a longer range from the Hessians than Mercer’s and Haslet’s fast-firing Continentals now hovering on Rall’s left flank, this scorching frontal fire that spat flame from the Virginian’s trusty Long Rifles was especially effective, much to General Stephen’s delight. Reaping a grim harvest, this merciless rife-fire was also accurate in part because Colonel Scott, the veteran Indian fighter since his teenage years, had long implored his sharp-eyed riflemen, especially the young Virginia soldiers, to aim low. Proving especially valuable this morning, Scott’s astute tactical reasoning of the western frontier was as simple as it was well thought-out because his Virginia boys, in the excitement of battle, were in the “habit of shooting too high [and] you waste your powder and lead; and I have cursed you about it a hundred times [and therefore] Now, I tell you . . . nothing must be wasted, every crack must count.”3 One of Washington’s most experienced regimental commanders, Scott knew that having his men aim their Virginia Long Rifles low and not overshoot in order to hit far more targets than usual was now essential for success, because “one man Wounded in the leg is better [than] a dead one for it takes two more to carry him off” the field.4
Meanwhile, combined with the salvoes of canister and grapeshot smashing into the Hessians’ front rank from Forrest’s Philadelphia guns that belched a sheet of flame, severe damage was also inflicted upon Rall’s troops by the utilization of buck and ball ammunition unleashed at closer range from the west. This blistering fire delivered in enfilade from Mercer’s veteran riflemen was devastating. Crackling louder in the frigid air than the rhythmic sound of the Hessians’ beating drums and officers’ shouted orders, the deadly flank fire streamed eastward from the row of darkened houses on King Street’s west side, and from a large number of Mercer’s veteran marksmen, who had aligned behind the wooden fences that encircled Stacy Potts’s tanyard. Washington’s soldiers in this sector benefitted from an open field of fire on the compact mass of Hessian targets, vulnerable to an enfilade fire and exposed in the openness of King Street, which loomed within easy range and could not be missed.
Pouring out of the eerily serene and silent cascade of falling snow at close range, Mercer’s musketry streaming from the tanyard area on King Street’s west side was especially destructive, raking Rall’s foot soldiers and artillerymen with a vicious enfilade fire from the west. All in all, this punishing flank fire, especially from the close-range buck and ball ammunition unleashed from the large-caliber, smoothbore muskets of Mercer’s foremost troops, was almost as effective in thwarting Rall’s desperate counterstroke up the ice-slick street as the initial explosion of canister and grapeshot from Captain Forrest’s six-pounders and five and a half-inch howitzers.
Along with the hardened veterans of Haslet’s Delaware regiment, of Stirling’s brigade, just to the north, Mercer’s soldiers fully exploited a key tactical advantage over their vulnerable opponent exposed out in King Street. Protected from the storm’s icy wrath, Mercer’s mostly Continental troops of four regiments, from Maryland, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, continued to benefit immensely from having taken good cover in the houses on King Street’s west side, which allowed them to blast away at Rall’s left flank with impunity. These enclosed first and second floor firing positions ensured that the weapons, flints, and black powder of Mercer’s men, whose feet were now on dry surfaces for the first time all day, stayed dry to facilitate an even heavier rate of fire. In addition, a larger trickle of Mercer’s and Haslet’s soldiers had crossed King Street to the north above Petty’s Run. These men then turned to unleash a plunging musketry from the street’s east side upon the foremost grenadiers at the battered head of Rall’s assault column.
Mercer’s Continentals, armed with mostly smoothbore muskets rather than rifles, especially benefitted from the advantage of not only good firing positions but also in blasting away upon packed Hessian ranks with “Buck and Ball” at close range. Fully appreciated by the average American soldier, this deadly charge fired at close range contained the lethal combination of one large .69 caliber ball and five buckshot. Such a ratio gave the smoothbore muskets not only a shotgun-like effect with the buckshot, but also considerable knock-down, killing power with the large caliber lead ball. These common smoothbore musket loads, called “swain shot” by easterners while westerners used the more popular term of “Buck and Ball,” were a key, although forgotten, factor that explained how such a bloody harvest had been reaped among the scarlet attackers at Breed’s Hill: a lethal formula which was now duplicated in the bitter struggle for Trenton’s possession.
With the exposed formation of Hessians on King Street at their mercy, larger numbers of Mercer’s Maryland, Connecticut, and Massachusetts soldiers, all except the 105 riflemen of Colonel Rawlings’s Maryland Rifle Battalion, whose men carried trusty Long Rifles, continued to blast away into the Hessians’ left flank with a destructive enfilade fire. Most of Mercer’s vetera
ns unleashed sweeping loads of a single large lead “ball and buckshot,” in one soldier’s words. Consequently, soldiers with large-caliber smoothbore muskets maintained a more effective fire than even the Maryland riflemen in a traditional role reversal, thanks to the combined effect of their opponent’s close range, buck and ball ammunition, and snowstorm conditions that limited visibility and range. The savviest of Washington’s marksmen realized that the Hessians wore tall grenadier helmets in part to magnify their height to present a more fearsome appearance in order to cause opponents to fire too high and miss their targets. For long shots, the most knowledgeable American marksmen, especially the westerners, of Mercer’s brigade adjusted their aim accordingly, sighting lower to squarely hit their German victims, who fell to rise no more.
No less important at this time, the smoothbores of Mercer’s soldiers were now able to be loaded much faster than rifles, ensuring a higher rate and heavier volume of fire. These same Hessian grenadiers had earlier mocked—the surest way to tempt fate—the average, homespun American riflemen because of the slow process of reloading small-caliber rifles. This time-consuming procedure had often proved fatal in the past, allowing the Germans to charge and bayonet hapless American riflemen, who could not reload in time for a second fire, since it took them “an hour to load,” ridiculed one Hessian. Possessing few bayonets unlike their well-equipped opponents, most of Mercer’s boys now fully utilized an ideal, close-range weapon—the large caliber smoothbore—and the best anti-personnel ammunition—buck and ball—from their well-sheltered positions, both in houses and in Potts’s tanyard, to deal out punishment.
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