The General's Christmas

by C. Metzinger

  Greene replied, "I have every faith that Colonel Knox can take our cannon across the river, even if the river is solid ice."

  Washington leaned forward, speaking earnestly. "To achieve a surprise attack, we'll need to cross the river at points north and south of the city, then move in quietly until we're upon them. To do that we'll have to cross in the dark."

  "Which comes fairly early this time of year," Greene added.

  Washington paused to take another sip of wine and to ponder the idea. Already his solemn mood was lifting as the hope of a victory lifted his spirits. To his credit, he was not one to dwell on past failures. He set down his glass.

  "Call a Council of War for this evening at six. I want to hear what the others have to say on this subject."

  "Yes, Sir. I was going to ask you to dine with me at my quarters. Tonight is Christmas Eve. I'll notify the others and invite them as well."

  Washington shook his head in disbelief, "Christmas Eve already? Well then, the sooner we take action, the better. Time is against us."

  Corporal Baylor carried the letters past the campfires where men stood, talking about their dismal situation. Many coughed deeply and spit from the illness that had spread through the camp when the cold weather arrived. Some spoke angrily, discouraged by defeat and the lack of basic supplies such as food and clothes, and others silently suffered the humiliation of defeat. They had marched from Boston to New York City, up to White Plains, and then across the North River now known as the Hudson, into New Jersey through Princeton and Trenton. They were chased across the Delaware River to their camp, all in the past few weeks, in a constant retreat from the enemy. Their ragged dress and haggard faces bore witness to their dire state.

  Baylor noted these things and avoided the eyes that followed him as he passed. He knew they wondered what it was like to sleep in a bed indoors, or to be fed regular meals with the general. He consoled himself with the knowledge that none of them could do his job. Many soldiers couldn't read or make more than an 'X' for their names. Corporal Baylor had graduated from Harvard College three years ago and had the skills the general needed. Although this gave him a distinct advantage, he felt somewhat guilty because he knew what it was like to be cold and hungry. He had worked his way through college, living in cheap rooms without heat and living on barely enough food until he finished his studies. With his law degree, he had hoped to join a practice in Boston and establish himself.

  Before the war began, his family had suffered losses when Boston Harbor was closed by order of Parliament as retribution for the Boston Tea Party. His father's warehouse business went into ruin, so his family left the city. His mother died six years ago of illness and his father, a Minuteman, was later killed at the battle of Concord. Baylor had done his best to raise his younger brother and sister until his aunt and uncle took them to their home in Salem. He knew cold and hunger and had vowed never to feel it again once he had his education. But he also believed in the American cause. He had seen homes and businesses ravaged by British soldiers, and he shared his father's ambition to see the colonies freed from British rule.

  He reached the house and stepped inside just as Major General Nathaniel Greene was leaving. The major was one of Washington's inner circle of trusted officers, with whom he consulted on military matters more than any other soldier.

  "Corporal, I've called a meeting at six o'clock this evening," Washington announced, "I'll need maps for this area and east of the river."

  "Yes, sir," Baylor nodded and went to the wooden chest where the general's papers were kept. His mind began to race with the possibility of an offense against the enemy. Why else would the general require maps of the enemy’s territory?

  General Washington stood at the window, looking out at the snowy scene, wondering what the weather would be like over the next few days. But he could no more plan a war based on the weather than predict what it would be.

  Suddenly, a group of men left their campfires and ran towards one end of the camp. He watched as the group converged and someone knelt down in the snow, huddling over a figure on the ground. Fear stabbed him. Had yet another soldier succumbed to sickness?

  “Corporal Baylor, go find out what the men are doing over there,” Washington told him.

  “Yes, Sir!” the corporal replied, pulling a cloak over his shoulders as he left.

  Washington watched the corporal run towards the group, which parted upon his arrival. He leaned over the prone figure on the ground and gestured with his arm. Several men lifted the figure and followed the corporal back to Washington’s headquarters. Washington watched with great interest as they carried the cloaked figure inside.

  “Over there, near the fire!” the corporal ordered and the men placed the figure down gently.

  When they stepped back, Washington saw that it was a young woman.

  “She stumbled into camp and collapsed,” the corporal explained.

  “Is she still alive?” asked the general.

  “I believe so,” replied Corporal Baylor. Washington told Baylor to fetch Widow Harris.

  "Go search the area for others who may have come with her," Washington ordered and the men left.

  Washington looked at the silent figure on the floor. Her full lips were blue and her skin was as pale as a marble cemetery statue. She was no more than eighteen years old. A strand of light brown hair fell from her dark bonnet, tied under her chin. Her cloak hid her body, but he could tell that she was small. He wondered how she came here, and why.

  Old Widow Harris appeared and waddled over to the hearth. When she saw the girl, she cried, "Heavens! Where did she come from?"

  "She wandered into camp alone," Washington told her, "Can you help her?"

  Widow Harris touched the girl's cheek and hands.

  "She's nearly frozen to death! Bring her upstairs to bed!"

  Corporal Baylor nodded and lifted the small figure effortlessly. He carried her up the narrow wooden stairway and into the room where Widow Harris was turning down the blankets.

  "I'll put a warming stone at her feet and try to give her some hot soup," Widow Harris said as she hurried to the kitchen.

  When Corporal Baylor returned downstairs, the door opened again and another figure was carried inside. It was another young girl wrapped in a cloak, and her face was battered. Baylor gasped at her purple bruises and swollen jaw.

  "Take her upstairs," Washington ordered. Corporal Baylor helped the other soldier carry her.

  "Were there any others?" Washington asked a soldier.

  "No sir, but we'll keep searching."

  "Very well," Washington nodded and dismissed them.

  "I wonder where they came from," Corporal Baylor remarked, descending the narrow wooden stairs.

  "The nearest settlement on this side of the river is Bristol, but someone would have seen them before they reached this far. See what you can find out," Washington told him.

  Baylor nodded and left with the others.

  The men told him that the girls had approached camp from the east. The men walked eastward toward the river and met the search party.

  "We found no others," one of the soldiers told him, "but it looks like the ladies came across the river in this small rowboat. It wasn't here yesterday, I can promise you that!"

  Baylor followed him to the edge of the river where a small wooden row boat was pushed up on the icy shoreline. Baylor regarded the river and saw the path the girls had taken through the broken ice slabs.

  "Search along the river," he said.

  The men nodded and split into two parties to search north and south. Baylor returned to headquarters and reported to Washington.

  Washington told him, "Widow Harris says that the first girl has regained consciousness. As soon as she is able, we'll question her."

  Twenty minutes later, Widow Harris appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  "She's rested now, and able to talk. Her sister is alive, but unconscious," she announced with a worried expression.

/>   Washington and Baylor climbed the stairway to the bedroom. They stood at the foot of the girl's bed while Widow Harris held onto her hand. Corporal Baylor was struck by the girl's youth and beauty. She had soft, light brown hair and eyes the color of cornflowers. He couldn't take his eyes from her.

  "Who are you?" Washington asked the girl.

  "My name is Anna Clark. I came with my sister, Elizabeth. Yesterday we were at our home, a farm on the Bordentown Road, not far from Trenton. A group of soldiers came and beat my father. I hid in the barn, but my sister, Elizabeth, she-" the girl paused and squeezed her eyes shut. She went on as her voice faltered, "She was attacked. The men took everything, all our food, the horses, the wagon, everything! Then they set fire to the house. They left us and took Papa with them. I found Elizabeth and got her out of the house. We went to the river where my father keeps a small rowboat tied up. I wanted to go to Bordentown, but the current kept pushing us north. There was so much ice I couldn't row. It just kept pushing us farther and farther away. I was afraid we'd drift into Trenton where the soldiers were, so I pushed the boat through the ice with a pole to the other side of the river. I saw this house and hoped there would be someone here to help us."

  "You're safe now," Baylor told her, "Who were the soldiers that attacked you?"

  "I don't know. They spoke some other language I didn't understand."

  "Hessians!" Washington spouted angrily.

  "How is Elizabeth?" Anna asked Widow Harris.

  "She's still unconscious, poor dear."

  Anna turned to Baylor and pleaded, "Please help us find Papa!"

  Washington turned to Baylor.

  "Let's leave now, Corporal. Thank you, Miss Clark, for answering our questions. You'll be safe here with Widow Harris, I promise you that. We'll talk again soon."

  When the men returned downstairs, Baylor swore angrily,

  "Damn those Hessians! To leave two women in a burning house--have they no conscience? No hearts? No fear of God?"

  "Their attacks on the settlers grow bolder each day," Washington replied.

  "Do you think their father is in Trenton?" asked Baylor.

  "He's probably being held prisoner there," Washington reasoned, "Let me see those maps."

  For the next hour, Washington studied the maps of Trenton and the surrounding area. He called in his scouts to give him more details about the lay of the land. They described the rolling countryside and ferry crossings along the river, now choked with ice floes. Crossing the river would be difficult, they told him. It was unlikely that the enemy would attempt to cross it.

  Washington dismissed them and sat at the table pondering his next move. The British had hired Hessians to supplement their own troops. More than anything he wanted a victory at Trenton to drive out the Hessian and British forces that had been raiding homes and farms in the countryside. No one was safe from the enemy raiding parties, who had no qualms about looting and pillaging. Washington believed the burning of homes was their worst crime. To leave a family without food or shelter in the dead of winter was cruelty beyond his comprehension. Regardless of one's political beliefs, no one deserved such abhorrent treatment from the very government that was supposed to protect them. At all costs, he concluded, they must be stopped.

  Chapter 3

  Campfires illuminated the muddy roadway to the Merrick House, a short distance from the Widow Harris' home. Lights from inside the house cast yellow shadows over the snow. It was a two-story house made of field stone with a chimney at each end. Inside, the house was unfinished and drafty, but General Greene had a table prepared with candles and places set for 12 people. As the men arrived, they greeted each other with "Merry Christmas" and received a glass of sherry from a bottle that had been a Christmas present to Greene from Thomas Paine. The dinner fare was sparse, but hot. Their Christmas Eve dinner was chicken stew containing very little chicken, an onion, two diced carrots and potatoes, accompanied by a loaf of freshly baked bread.

  "It may snow again tonight," Colonel John Cadwalader announced as they finished their meal.

  "Let's pray that it doesn't," Washington replied, and turned to Major General Sullivan.

  "How go General Ewing's raids on Trenton?" he asked.

  Sullivan, a hearty son of an Irishman, grinned triumphantly.

  "Their last raid was the best of all! They blackened their faces and sneaked across the river during the night. They set fire to several empty houses along the river and moved off again before the Hessians could get a shot off."

  Washington nodded in satisfaction, "Good. We must harass them as much as possible, day and night."

  "With all our attacks, they must be at their wits' ends."

  "That's the plan. Keep at them until they retreat."

  Greene gave a wheezy cough and then filled the general's glass, saying, "I hear you have two refugees at headquarters, General."

  Washington's face drew into a frown.

  "Yes, two young women wandered into camp today, nearly frozen to death. One had been beaten. They came by boat across the river south of here. The Hessians attacked their farm, looted and burned it, and took their father as prisoner."

  General Sullivan's voice sounded angry, "At least when we forage, we don't burn civilians out of their homes."

  Greene agreed,” It’s one thing to take livestock to feed the army, but quite another to attack innocent civilians."

  "Which I intend to stop very soon," Washington said, looking at each of them across the table. He waited until he had their full attention.

  "I have given the situation some thought and would like to hear your ideas on a plan to attack Trenton. Corporal, bring the maps."

  Baylor nodded and left the table. Washington continued as the others listened intently.

  "There are about 1,500 Hessians guarding the town. If we attack them from three positions, we have a good chance to succeed. As you know, many of our enlisted men will be leaving us at the end of this month. If we can score a victory between now and then, it might convince many of them to stay."

  "We've commandeered about forty boats of different sizes," Colonel Glover told them, "The Durham Iron Works boats will hold about twenty-five men, but there are no seats, so they'll have to stand. The horses and heavy artillery can also be taken across the river on the boats. The river current is very fast, and although the river is a little less than eight feet deep at the ferry crossings, it's over 800 feet across to the other side."

  "Can it be done in the dark, just after dusk?" asked Washington.

  "Yes, if there isn't too much wind," Glover assured him.

  Washington proposed a three-prong attack and asked the others what they thought. He saw their excitement in the brightness of their eyes.

  "I've no doubt we can accomplish it," Colonel Knox said, "but it won't be easy."

  "Nothing we've done this far has been easy," General Sullivan replied.

  Washington looked at Knox and said, "You brought 59 pieces of heavy artillery 300 miles over ice and snow through the mountains last winter all the way from Fort Ticonderoga to Boston. I have full confidence that you can bring our artillery and horses across an 800 foot river at night."

  Colonel Knox smiled and patted his round stomach.

  "Say the word, General, and it will be done."

  The night was cold and dark as General Washington and Corporal Baylor made their way back to headquarters. Rugged wooden army huts stood nearby, providing only nominal shelter from the wind for some soldiers. Some of the men were wrapped in blankets, sleeping on the ground next to the fires while others sat, huddled against the cold. If only they hadn't left their tents and equipment when they fled Fort Lee with the British army at their heels, the men would have some protection against the cold. Seeing his men deprived of even the basic need for shelter made Washington even more determined to attack Trenton and recoup some of their losses.

  The sounds of musket fire echoed in the distance.

  "Is that coming from the west
?" Washington asked anxiously.

  "It may be coming from General Ewing's camp, sir. It's Christmas Eve."

  Washington relaxed and remembered the old custom of shooting in Christmas.

  "We mustn't waste ammunition. Tell the officers to discourage any holiday celebrations of that sort."

  "Yes, sir," Corporal Baylor nodded and rode ahead to spread the word. He returned in time to find Washington seated next to the fire at the widow's house.Widow Harris was sitting beside the fire when he entered, bringing in a cold draft.

  Baylor asked, "How are the young ladies?"

  Widow Harris replied, "Both asleep. But the younger one, poor dear, is a sight. Her face is turning black and blue from the beating she took."

  Washington shook his head, "Do whatever you can for them, Mrs. Harris, and spare no expense."

  The plump woman nodded, "Aye, but seeing their father again would be the best medicine of all."

  "We shall do our best to make that possible," Washington told her. He turned to Corporal Baylor.

  "At dawn, would you please let the cooks know that we will need three days' rations prepared for tomorrow's march?"

  "Yes, sir," Baylor nodded. The widow bade them goodnight and gave them some blankets. Since both of their beds were occupied by the girls, Baylor and his General would be sleeping on the floor tonight.

  On Christmas morning, the day dawned cold and misty with a leaden sky. A cold front had come in during the night, pushed by the wind. Trees swayed gently in the breeze and inside the Harris home, drafty windows moaned with each gust. A thin layer of snow frosted the ground, and the muddy, rutted roads had frozen into rocky paths.

  In the camp, preparations were being made for the march on Trenton. The animals were fed and ammunition and supplies were loaded onto wagons. Each man was issued fresh flints, powder, and balls for their muskets, along with three days' rations. At the prospect of doing some action, the men's spirits had lifted and they set to their duties with a sense of purpose.