Blood Upon The Snow

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by Martin Ganzglass

converted into a banquet hall. Members of Congress were already

  seated at the long table running across the width of the room. Between

  them and the double front doors, civilians were grouped at tables

  perpendicular to the Congressional one. Elisabeth recognized a few

  members of the Pennsylvania Supreme Executive Council and the

  city’s magistrates. The Continental Army officers in town and their

  guests were seated further back, closer to the entrance.

  The three hundred or more celebrants completely filled the hall.

  Elisabeth had never seen so many people in one room. Servants, in

  dark long coats with ruffled white shirts, moved among the tables

  carrying platters laden with food and pitchers, bottles and crocks

  of drinks. The Knoxes halted frequently as they made their way in,

  the General greeting officers he knew and being introduced to their

  ladies. It was slow progress and Elisabeth sensed Will’s uneasiness.

  Her fingers tapped on his hand and he inclined his head so she could

  whisper in his ear.

  “Once we are seated, there will be less of the press of these people.” He shook his head. “It is not that,” he replied. “If you observe the officers, there are those with a ruddy, rugged appearance from having served in the field, and then there are those, pale and almost corpse like in complexion, with their powdered wigs, who have not seen a day

  in either battle or encampment.”

  “Will. Please do not be negative with your thoughts or so sour

  in appearance. Be prepared to be courteous and pleasant to whomever

  we shall meet.” He nodded and smiled at her and she was pleased her

  words had helped to improve his mood.

  “But surely you must notice, Miss Elisabeth,” he said grinning at

  her mischievously, “that with the obvious exception of General Knox,

  we who have come from Morristown are leaner to the point of looking

  underfed, while those who have remained in Philadelphia favor the

  more plump and pampered look.”

  “Then you will simply have to make up at this dinner for your

  prior meager rations, although I caution you to mind your manners

  and not act the lean and hungry wolf,” she said with mock severity. “I promise to devour my food with decorum and to eat no more

  than the General himself.” Elisabeth giggled at the thought, having

  seen the General’s tremendous consumption at the dinner table. She

  was pleased Will was merry again. “I shall only worry about you if you

  eat as little as the General’s brother.”

  “Is Billy in Philadelphia?” Will asked excitedly.

  “I believe not yet. Mrs. Knox mentioned he is expected to join

  the General shortly and provide assistance as his secretary.” “Tis much better duty to be the General’s Aide-de-Camp,” Will

  said grinning at her.

  “I am pleased you are but I sense from that remark you do not

  regard it so much of an obligation as an exercise of free will.” “Free will, yes certainly, but in your presence, this Will is not free

  but bound to be your humble servant.”

  Her eyes lit up with delight at his repost. “Very cleverly said,” she

  acknowledged.

  They followed General and Mrs. Knox to their table seating

  sixteen, which was filled with many of the officers of the Regiment,

  Captain Hadley among them, escorting Miss Mercy. Elisabeth sensed

  Will’s unease among officers of higher rank. She reassured him, commenting it was the General’s table and he was entitled to select his company, and he had chosen Will. The sounds of the soft mellow tones of oboes, complimented by a sonorous melody carried by a few

  fiddles filled the hall.

  “Most of the musicians are the Hessians, captured at Trenton,”

  Elisabeth said. The uniformed Hessian band, looking well taken care

  of in their powdered wigs and blackened mustaches, were ensconced

  on a raised platform to the right of the Congressional table. “They have

  played at numerous outdoor concerts in the city this summer and are

  quite popular and well-liked.” 4

  “Their armed brethren are less likely to be appreciated by the

  good citizens,” Will said. “As you have heard, General Howe will

  begin the campaign with an attempt to capture Philadelphia. There

  will be a major confrontation for certain before this summer is over.”

  She recognized the truth of his words. While the others around them

  continued in gay conversation, she became quiet.

  “Forgive me, Elisabeth,” he said quickly. “I should not have

  darkened your mood.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she responded. “We are still at war,

  the outcome is uncertain and there are indeed many in this city who

  would welcome General Howe and his army. Their sympathies lie with

  the Crown and not with our cause.” She reached for his hand under the

  tablecloth and squeezed it with affection. They held hands for a long

  time, untwining their fingers only when food and drink were served.

  Pot pies and dishes of fish and poultry were followed by roast meats,

  all accompanied by wines, ciders and beers. The meal concluded with

  baked wine custards, preserved pears, layer cakes and marvelously

  contrived pastries with claret and madeira served to compliment the

  sweets.

  There were thirteen separate toasts, each offered from the

  Congressional table, in honor of the country formed by the thirteen

  colonies, with acknowledgement of the brave heroes present and those

  who had fallen in battle in their efforts to advance the cause. Will leaned over and whispered in her ear: “No mention of the

  soldiers who have not been paid in months, or of the living maimed

  and missing limbs, unable to work, and with no compensation from

  these gentlemen now praising their courage.”

  “I hear there are those in Congress who have used their own

  personal funds to send to the troops. The women’s circle to which

  Mrs. Knox and I belong collect clothing and engage in sewing to

  supplement what is in scarce supply. As do others in the city.” She was about to add another thought but was startled by a

  barrage of rifle fire echoing through the Tavern’s open windows. Will

  put his arm around her shoulder in a comforting gesture. It brought

  back memories when he had held her on the sled as they crossed the

  frozen Hudson at Albany. “It is just the running fire of our infantry,”

  he explained as the muskets discharged from one end of the line to the

  other. “It is in celebration.” With each toast followed by such firings,

  Elisabeth became more accustomed to the loud noise, but she remained

  in his protective embrace. Despite what she assumed were his best

  efforts to scrub himself clean, his jacket smelled of gunpowder and

  horses, as if the scents had been woven into the fabric. She wondered

  whether his skin smelled the same. She smiled to herself at her risqué

  thought.

  At the conclusion of the dinner, when the members of Congress

  rose, it was a general signal for the attendees to move around the vast

  hall and mingle with others. Will immediately stood, for as aide to

  General Knox, he was obligated to be part of his escort around the

  hall. He and Elisabeth followed the General and Lucy at a distance.

  Elisa
beth let him steer her through the crowd, aware of the attention

  she attracted from the young men they passed. She squeezed Will’s

  arm to reassure him she was pleased to be with him. They lost sight of

  General Knox and when they did locate him, he and Lucy were seated

  at another table, the General surrounded by a group of officers, and

  Lucy holding court among several of the patriotic ladies of the city. Knox was describing the first battle of Trenton as the army

  approached the Hessian sentries with the blinding snowstorm at their

  backs. The elegantly uniformed men, none of whom had been part of

  the army in December 1776 attentively listened to his account. “Captain Hadley here, now graced by the presence of the lovely

  Miss Mercy van Buskirk, was instrumental in our artillery supporting

  the assault,” Knox said, gesturing for Hadley to take up the story. Will listened and was carried back to the cold stormy morning, the gun crew working in unison, firing canister to sweep the Hessians clear of

  King Street.

  “And here is another of our brave soldiers, Sergeant Stoner, my

  Aide-de-Camp,” Knox boomed out, pointing at Will. “It was he, who

  along with the Captain and a few others, attacked the one cannon

  the Hessians had managed to get into action and captured it for our

  cause.” Elisabeth felt Will stiffen. “Tell them Will of your part in that

  encounter.” Elisabeth feared that Will would be remain silent or not

  find his voice. She squeezed his arm in encouragement.

  “I was not alone. Captain Hadley led a few of us in a mad scramble

  down the icy street. It was slippery underfoot and in front of us, several

  Hessians were hastily loading their three-pounder. Their muskets were

  useless in the driving snow but their long bayonets would serve them

  well as we approached. It was only when I was extremely close to their

  cannon that I realized I was unarmed.”

  “It is a rather poor soldier who forgets to carry his musket into

  battle,” one of the officers standing near General Knox said sharply.

  He was a slight man with a very high forehead, which appeared more

  so by the powdered wig perched on the crown of his head. His pale

  blue eyes bored into Will, daring him to challenge him. Elisabeth

  recognized him as Captain Seely’s friend, Captain Enoch Newcomb,

  the one who had bashed Will with a gun stock in the fight at General

  Knox’s headquarters. Anxiously, she held her breath, hoping Will

  would respond calmly.

  “Sir, I normally do not carry a musket into battle because I am

  part of the gun crew in General Knox’s Regiment. The cannon is my

  weapon,” he said, as if explaining something so elementary to a school

  boy. He paused enough to let the lesson sink in. “But you are quite

  correct to criticize me for lack of preparedness, although I was not

  entirely unarmed. I seized an empty sponge bucket and clobbered the

  Hessian gunner with it before he had a chance to lunge at me with

  his bayonet. I assume Sir, from your own familiarity with battles you

  are aware that a sponge bucket has many uses.” Several of the ladies

  tittered with amusement and Newcomb’s face turned crimson, the

  color extending up to the line of his wig.

  “My experience, as is true of any gentlemen is from the saddle

  of a horse. I do not engage in bar room brawling with the enemy,”

  he replied. “You on the other hand do not seem to have limited your

  brawling to Hessians.” He was about to explain further but General

  Knox cut him off.

  “Captain Newcomb. There are times when brave soldiers must

  use whatever means are at their disposal in attacking the enemy,” Knox

  said loudly. “Quickness of mind and resourcefulness are attributes

  in the clamor of combat to be highly valued. Sergeant Stoner has

  exhibited those qualities married to cool courage that make him an

  excellent soldier. I wish our army had more like him.”

  Elisabeth pressed his arm, signaling Will to restrain himself.

  “There is no need Will, for you to say more,” she whispered softly. “Gentlemen, while I would much prefer to provide more first

  hand accounts of our battles with General Howe’s minions, we are

  required by the occasion to present ourselves for a parade before the

  city’s populace. My dear,” he said turning to Lucy and kissing her

  gently on her upswept hair, “please excuse me. Our absence will be

  brief.” He moved through the crowd, creating a path where there was

  none, followed by the officers of his Regiment.

  “Well,” Lucy said cheerily, “let us fill our glasses with sherry and

  adjourn to the upstairs where we can observe the parade from the front

  rooms.” There was the scraping of chairs and rustling of skirts as the

  women left the main hall and mounted the narrow stairway. Elisabeth stood, at the window next to two Shippen sisters and

  a few other young women she had met at their afternoon teas, poetry

  readings and parties. From the corner of the window she had a clear

  view of the direction the parade would come. Below them, crowds

  three deep lined Second Street, jostling for position.

  “You must have a handkerchief to wave at your beau,” Peggy

  Shippen said, pressing hers into Elisabeth’s hand. “He seems well

  spoken and very much taken with you. I would vouch he barely took

  his eyes off of you for the entire dinner.”

  “Except to respond to Captain Newcomb,” another young lady

  observed. “And even then, with your hand on his arm, it seemed as if the two of you were one,” she said, raising her eyebrows to elicit a

  comment from Elisabeth.

  “Sergeant Stoner and I correspond regularly. General Knox

  graciously appointed him his aide for the Tavern dinner. That is all

  there is to it.”

  “Oh, Elisabeth. Do not be so modest. It seems you have captured

  the heart of a handsome young soldier who enjoys the General’s favor,”

  Peggy said. “In no time at all, he will be an officer, and even better

  looking in his new uniform and able to grace our salons and balls.” Elisabeth sensed the a barb in Peggy’s comment, a criticism of

  Will’s present low rank and an implied disparagement of his lack

  of culture. The Shippens were among the wealthiest families in

  Philadelphia, after the Morrises, and while they proclaimed their

  neutrality, it was whispered they were closet Tories.

  “His letters to me are warm and heartfelt,” she replied curtly.

  “And he has his moments of eloquence,” she said with more candor

  than she had wished to reveal. “However, as one deeply committed to

  our cause, he will be doing his duty in the field rather than attending to

  me at drawing room soirees.” She looked at Peggy and smiled sweetly. The familiar sounds of beating drums and fifes and the reedy

  strains of the Hessian oboes signaled the start of the parade. The crowd

  hailed “their Hessian band,” smartly dressed in powder blue uniforms

  as they marched by in unison. Next came a color guard, carrying the

  flags of the various Pennsylvania and New Jersey militias, and the

  newly adopted red and white striped flag- thirteen five-pointed stars

  within a blue rectangle. The men in the crowd cheered lou
dly and

  brandished their tri-corns above their heads in appreciation. 5 General Knox followed on his large dappled English saddle horse,

  waving to the crowd. Behind him rode the officers of the Artillery

  Regiment, smiling and acknowledging the cheers of the people. Then,

  two mounted cavalry units and finally the cannons. Will was in the

  forefront on Big Red. The horse was brushed and groomed so that one

  could see its muscles rippling under the deep rich color, like strong

  currents in a stream. The stallion pranced as he pulled a light brass

  cannon, the metal glinting in the late afternoon summer sun. Will sat upright in the saddle, confidently looking straight ahead, the reins

  clasped loosely in his hands.

  “You beaux is so handsome on that magnificent animal,” Peggy

  gushed. “He could pose for a statue to be placed in the most prominent

  square of the city.”

  Elisabeth smiled at the thought of a statue being erected to Will,

  but placed in Albany where her family and friends would see it. She

  pushed the silly thought from her mind and waved her handkerchief at

  no one in particular, Will having already passed from view.

  It was dark when Will accompanied General Knox to his home. He waited impatiently in the hallway until Elisabeth appeared at the top of the stairs. She was so graceful, it seemed to him she flew down the steps with her feet whispering over the wood. Outside, the streets were filled with celebrants enjoying the festivities. She clung closely to him and Will wanted to think it was due more to her wanting to be with him, than the crush of the crowds.

  The sky was illuminated by a fireworks display. Bright balls of red and orange burst above them. No sooner had they finished, to the applause of people in the street, then individual fiery streaks of rockets, launched from the Commons soared upward, before exploding in red fury. The people cheered and counted out loud for each rocket, screaming “thirteen” as the last one rose into the darkness. They paused and watched a militia unit firing from one end of the line to the other, the men obscured by the gun smoke blown back along their ranks. Bonfires burned at major intersections as people danced and milled around them, singing and shouting in celebration.

  “There is so much noise, I will become deaf by evening’s end, and unable to hear your voice,” Elisabeth said. Will knew his own hearing had already suffered from serving in the gun crew. During drills, shouted commands no longer seemed as sharp and clear to him, and afterwards, he frequently found he spoke louder than normal.

 

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