“Do we know that for certain?” Washington replied again, and as he spoke he shot a glance to Billy Lee, who came, fetched his empty cup, and returned seconds later with a refill, this one scalding hot.
“No, sir, not for certain, but we do have agents afield who certainly would have reported in if they were moving.”
He said nothing for a moment. None of them in this room, other than perhaps, interestingly enough, Billy Lee, fully knew just how many agents he did have in the field. Though he could never raise enough to pay the men of this valiant army, he had always placed the highest of priorities on the use of what little gold he had to purchase the right information from the right people, having cast his net wide even as the army withdrew across New Jersey. It was how he had known the disposition of the enemy here in Trenton, information that he was now finding was indeed accurate. It was how he knew the tenuous connection between the garrisons at Bordentown, Trenton, and Princeton and from there on to the main garrison at Perth Amboy which was two days’ march away, perhaps three now, given this weather. Without such information from his secret network of agents and spies he never would have dared to begin this campaign. And he knew, as well, how to keep secret their existence.
And yet, news from them could only travel as fast as the swiftest horse.
Some of the Hessian dragoons based here in Trenton had, after all, escaped the net. He reached into his vest pocket and drew out his watch and opened it. Three hours had passed since the first shot was fired. Even in this blow a terrified rider could have driven his mount fifteen, perhaps even twenty miles, avoiding his patrols by using back lanes and cutting across fields.
“We must assume word has reached Princeton by now.”
He looked carefully at those who had gathered by his side and around the table.
No one showed disagreement.
“Their garrison could even now be on the march, but if so, to where?”
There was no agreement, some pointing directly at Trenton, where the enemy could move to attack him directly. Greene, ever the strategist, pointed instead back to McConkey’s Ferry.
“Cut us off first from our line of retreat,” he announced. “That would be the move, then sweep down from the north and hold us in place while the garrison from Perth Amboy force marched.”
“We attack in reply or simply fall back to the south,” Sullivan replied, and the debate was on. Washington listened, saying nothing, as was his practice, letting their nimble minds fight out the varied arguments.
“Did anyone else cross? Was there no one else?” he finally interjected.
They looked one to another, and Greene shook his head.
“Sir. We got a message across the river from General Ewing. He begs to report, with regret, that ice prevented him from crossing as it also prevented General Cadwalader.”
Washington took it in. “Why did it prevent them and not us?” he asked.
“Sir, I can see their side of it,” Greene replied. “Just below the falls here at Trenton, the river is tidal. The ice is piled up three, four feet thick in places. Broken as well, so any man who tried to disembark while still in the river would have fallen through. It was impossible.”
He finally nodded, accepting the answer.
“It was a miracle we even got across,” Mercer interjected. “I know this river, sir. No blame to Ewing or Cadwalader should be placed. It’s a wonder even we made it.”
“Yes,” Washington said softly.
He looked again at the map.
I am across on the enemy side of the river with fewer than two thousand five hundred men, he realized. He had counted on six thousand or more fording the river during the night.
We were alone, the enemy garrison should have been fully aroused and yet it was not. That foolish assault of the evening before, ordered by Stephens, who still would have to answer for doing so without informing him, had most likely aroused the garrison, had forced them stand to arms for several hours. Then the men, worn down by the weather, had simply retired, believing that surely, on such a night, there would be no additional peril.
Again a miracle.
Shall I push farther? he wondered.
The others were still arguing, Stirling exclaiming that, surely, with the advantage of surprise, the enemy would be on the run and if they marched now upon Princeton, before the day was done, the mere onset of their men, imbued now with the fire of victory, would create a rout.
Fired by enthusiasm he painted a picture in which, with luck, perhaps even Cornwallis might be present. What a prize that would be, to take the commander of the Jersey garrisons prisoner, a triumph that would trump even what they had accomplished this day. Perhaps even bring an end to the war.
Washington looked steadily at Knox, the ever steady Knox, who nodded his head, but without enthusiasm. His only comment was that his gunners were exhausted; it was a different story for artillerymen manhandling one-ton pieces along ice-slicked roads than for infantry who had only their muskets to bear.
Greene pointed out on the map that though the enemy garrison at Bordentown was small, still it was upon their flank and a threat. He pointed out that, beyond all else, they had to honorably deal with the prisoners taken here first.
There was no mutual agreement, the argument shifting back and forth.
If anything, at this moment Washington was aware of just how uncomfortable he felt. The room was warm, surely, but he was still soaked clean through, wool underclothing, shirt, vest, jacket, all heavy with the damp, his boots cold and clammy, feet so chilled he could barely feel his numbed toes.
If I feel this way in here, what of those out there?
He looked out the window where his men were milling about. They were in a jubilant mood, more than a few sporting captured Hessian headgear, strutting about like children at play. Others were trying on cast-off Hessian jackets, coats turned inside out so there would be no mistake as to which side they were on. And yes, more than a few were staggering, either from exhaustion or the fact that those hogsheads of rum had not all been smashed in immediately upon discovery.
Looking closer, he saw yet more of his men, curled up in doorways, or inside the yard beside the homes across the street, collapsed, sleeping, or just sitting.
There was a brief glimmer of sunshine, and yet, even as he watched, it darkened and a spattering of freezing rain began to come down.
“Gentlemen, we have been blessed.” He spoke, and all around him fell silent.
They waited, expectantly, some eagerly, as if wanting to be unleashed; others silent, ready to follow orders no matter what they might be.
And under the weight of their attention, he felt a profound change within himself, his heart swelling.
Only yesterday when he had held his final staff meeting, laying out the last details of the assault, he had seen that all were ready to follow him. They would follow him . . . but did they fully believe in him?
Now there was no longer any doubt. This day, this miracle at Trenton, had changed all. These men would follow him into hell if he asked it. They would follow him no matter how long it would take. No longer simply out of sense of duty and solemn oaths, but because they did indeed believe as he now most assuredly believed. Heaven would never have placed a cheap price upon such a celestial gift as freedom. We have realized it this day; we were willing to pay the price, even with our lives; and in return we have received our first glimmer of hope.
They were no longer a rabble, driven, humiliated, defeated, turning like an animal that, when cornered, would at least die game. They were an army. Regardless of all that had gone before, they could fight . . . and win.
“Gentlemen, we can be assured of but one thing this morning,” he said. “We have won an astounding victory and I thank you for that. For without your inspired leadership, surely this venture would have floundered and gone down to ruin.”
They looked one to another, coughed politely, most now raising their voices, stating that the victory was his, and his
alone.
He shook his head.
“Let us be in agreement then at least upon this. The victory belongs to our men out there.” As he spoke he gestured toward the window, the men awaiting their orders, now turning their backs not in disrespect but because the wind was again kicking up, from the north, bringing with it a pelting rain.
“We must think of them first. They have done more than any soldiers should ever be asked to do. We must think of them now. That is our duty.”
No one spoke.
“We have but two choices. We can attempt to advance, to exploit this gain, and as suggested, march upon Princeton.”
Stirling looked up, eyes afire.
“What more can we ask of these men?” Washington said softly.
“They will fight for you, sir.”
“I know they will. But to what end? God blessed our arms this morning with a victory unlike any seen upon this continent. I am not a profane man, General Stirling, so I will not speak of wagers with God, but indeed, sir, would we not be wagering all if we should hazard a second throw? Come now, think upon that.”
He spoke solemnly but with a smile, and there were soft chuckles from a few.
“They have endured all because of their belief in our cause. But they are only men after all. We must remember that. Most of us rode this march; most of us have warm uniforms and capes and boots. We must think of their condition and always place that first.”
“We march them to Princeton,” Greene said softly, “and not one in ten will be fit for another fight, regardless of their belief in our cause. For them this battle was one of desperation, sir, knowing that either it would be victory or death. We can not ask that of them a second time on the same day.”
Washington nodded in agreement.
“If I had Ewing and Cadwalader’s men as reserves, or, better yet, rested and ready to lead the advance, I would reconsider holding this position on the enemy side of the river.”
He forced a smile.
“Come now, General Stirling, your blood is still up, but this storm continues as well. I think we should place our hearts with our gallant men and see to their needs. Their need now is rest. A simple reward of rest, warm fires, fresh food, and then see what opportunities a few days hence will bring once their strength is renewed.”
He looked around the room. Not one man showed disagreement. Even the firebrands deferred. Again a swelling of his heart. Not one challenged his decision as had so often been the case in the past.
This day had united them. No longer, at least for this moment, were they Virginians and Marylanders, men of Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and New York. They were comrades, united by the shared bond of blood, suffering, and, at last, this victory. They were the army of these United States of America, and his duty now, if this Revolution was to survive, prosper, and eventually prevail, was to them above all else.
Strange, is it not? he thought. They believe in me. The doubts after Long Island, the tragedies of New York, Westchester, the Palisades, the bitter retreat——all washed away by this miraculous morning.
Merciful God, he whispered to himself. Please make me worthy of them.
“Our prisoners are to be treated with utmost respect and compassion.”
No one spoke.
“Do I make myself clear? All transgressions of the past are to be forgotten. For when two armies contend for victory, often it is the gentler hand that in the end shall win. Let their brutalities and crimes be their shame, and our response a point of honor.”
No one demurred.
“Let this be a mark, now and forever, of the ideal of what we Americans strive to be, even with a beaten foe.”
He nodded at the looks of approval, even from such firebrands as Stirling.
“Ensure that Colonel Rall is well taken care of. The wounded are to be left behind under parole not to take up arms again. Their surgeons to be released free of parole. Their able men are not to be humiliated, and are to be treated with Christian compassion. That in itself will be a shock to many, a lesson to all, not just in their ranks but across this entire nation. I pray it will turn this conflict aside from the bitterness and brutality that has recently taken hold.”
His orders, each like a commandment, he knew would be spread through the army.
“Prisoners are to be moved to the ferries above and below town and to the other side of the river. As for our army. Do you believe the road back to our ferry to still be secured?
Greene cleared his throat.
“So far, yes, sir. But why not recross the river here? There can be rest on the other side once across.”
“Not enough boats,” Knox interjected. “Moving the prisoners alone will take most of the day. Ewing’s men on the far shore can take charge of them. But the road back to our encampments by the ferry we used is half as far as the roads on the Pennsylvania side. The direct route back is along the River Road. It will spare our men five miles or more of marching, and besides, most of the boats still await us there, not here.”
Washington weighed the risks. If we linger here in this town it might not be until well past midnight before all have crossed. By that time the British garrison at Princeton might fall upon us with our backs to the river. Once across, the men would still have to march five or more miles to regain the primitive shelters of their camps.
He could not hesitate now before these senior officers.
“General Greene, my compliments to General Ewing. He is detailed to see to the embarking of the Hessians. I want our army formed immediately, ready to march as soon as possible. We make for our place of embarkation. Send word ahead along with any food we might garner here loaded on those wagons that can be found. Our gallant men are to be greeted on the far shore with hot coffee, tea even, and as much as they can eat. Have fires lit for them along the way.”
Greene nodded, smiling with obvious agreement.
“Orders have already been given, sir. The men are forming ranks even now.”
He nodded approval.
“Our forward pickets facing toward enemy positions are to be contacted as well and doubled. If there is even a remote sign of the Princeton garrison moving upon us, we will reconsider this plan. But, gentlemen”——he paused——“through Divine Providence we have won this day. Never forget that in the years to come. We shall regain our crossing and tonight rest victorious on the far shore. In the days ahead we will plan our next move. Can we not see that we have been blessed? Let us not flaunt it, or take it lightly. We who one day shall achieve old age when this struggle is finished. Let us remember this moment and tell our grandchildren of it and always thank our Creator for granting this blessing on us.”
No one spoke.
Saying no more, he nodded, and headed to the door; Billy Lee falling in by his side.
He looked at the man and wondered. What in his heart did this man now think? Is this victory his as well? How do I someday make this victory his, if he does not believe it now?
Billy Lee held up his cape, offering it, still heavy and damp in spite of having been placed so near the kitchen fire in the back room that several holes had been burned through it. Washington accepted the offer, glad to feel its warmth.
Out in the street troops were ready to move.
He looked up the street. The column was ragged, few actually in marching order. Many were in white coats, Hessian uniforms turned inside out, and nearly all, at last, with boots on. More than a few were holding a piece of beef, roast pork, or a half-eaten loaf of bread already sodden from the pelting rain.
They gazed at him. Eyes afire.
Were these the same men who had fled in panic at Long Island? The same men who had fled in yet another panic from Fort Lee? The same men whom he had begged to serve for but thirty more days.
No. They were not the same men. Their physical forms might be the same, but they would never again be the same men. These were the men, who for the rest of their lives, whether that ended this day, or fifty years hence, would say t
hey had fought and won at Trenton.
Some might go home when enlistments ran out, in five more days, but he could already sense that most would stay. They would stay and see it through. Whatever God’s ultimate will might be on the fate of this cause, this nation, these men would stay and be part of that fate, for they had fought and seen victory at Trenton.
He drew his sword. A lone drummer gave the long roll as he pointed it forward.
More and more men were pouring out of houses. He caught a glimpse of several moving out of a house several buildings away, slowly coming out, two men with a third between them. He recognized the boy who was being half carried. It was the same one who had served as a guide, the one who had gone into the river. The lad was pale, gasping for air, one of his helpers wearing new breeches and vest coat, a captured Tory perhaps from the look of his clean uniform breeches. He could see a resemblance between the young boy and the Tory.
Dear God, another family sundered by this war. A sergeant was coming up to the three, calling for men to find a blanket to help carry their comrade.
His staff and officers issued from the house they had occupied. An orderly, after taking down Knox’s flag, held it aloft and waved it high overhead. Several others holding up the captured Hessian flags and waving them, joined him.
He wanted to order no such display, but a cheer had erupted at the sight of the captured flags, and he let them have their moment. They were, after all, the first enemy colors taken since the start of the campaign nearly six months ago.
With lowered sword he pointed the way, and set off. A few blocks and then he turned north, onto the River Road. To his left the Hessian captives were being herded out of their temporary prisons in the barracks and churches, sullenly marching down to the Trenton ferries.
They looked humbled, forlorn, almost pathetic. Most were without uniform jackets or boots, shuffling along, dejected, looking back at the triumphal column turning on to the River Road, now wearing their boots, their inverted uniform jackets, filled with the breakfasts they themselves had been eating hours before.
To Try Men's Souls - George Washington 1 Page 33