Washington

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Judgment and resolution warred hourly over the answer. Every day after the fifteenth there was hope that Sullivan and perhaps Gates also would arrive. But as every bleak dawn brought tragically nearer the end of the enlistment of most Continental troops, Washington lost one prospect after another of reenforcement. Prudence dictated the return of Heath’s six hundred to the highlands; Clinton, too, would be needed there, along with his militia; reports of the reenlistment of New England troops in the regiments marching to Washington’s aid proved false. If rumor hopefully had it that Howe was going into winter quarters, Washington told himself that his adversary would stay there so short a time and would emerge with so much strength that the new American Army must be organized quickly. He had to admit in a confidential letter, “If every nerve is not strained to recruit the New Army with all possible expedition, I think the game is pretty near up. . . .” ; but the deep determination of his spirit, his innate refusal to accept defeat, dictated this sentence in the same letter: “. . . under a full persuasion of the justice of our cause, I cannot entertain an idea that it will finally sink, though it may remain for some time under a cloud.”

  The Army must be increased to 110 battalions, the artillery enlarged, a corps of engineers established—half-a-score changes must be made at once if the new Army was to be recruited or be efficient when created. Deferential as Washington always had been in his attitude towards the men who spoke for America, he felt now that the choice was between country and Congress. On the twentieth, in resolute mood, he wrote the Delegates of his need, announced that he would enlist additional artillery and stated in plain terms that “if any good officers offer to raise men up on continental pay and establishment in this quarter, I shall encourage them to do so, and regiment them when they have done it.”

  As Washington finished his letter word came that Sullivan had arrived with Lee’s troops and that Gates had reached camp. From plans for the Army that must somehow be brought into being within twelve dark days, Washington turned again to the troops who had to be put across the Philadelphia Road as a bar to Howe or to be thrown against the British. The 5000 troops whom Lee had said he would bring turned out to be about 2000; Gates’s regiments had no more than 600; Washington computed his own force at between 2400 and 2500, plus the militia who had joined since he crossed North River. Formal returns were to show total effectives to be 7659, far too few and too dispirited, apparently, for the duty to be performed! Fairweather friends of American freedom were going over to the British and accepting the pardons Howe was dispensing. Howe was gaining strength from arms-bearing American Tories. Eleventh-hour attempts to offset some of the adverse odds were being made in the fever of fear. Old clothing was being sent shivering soldiers; blankets were being collected; a start was being made towards the establishment of depots of supplies in the less exposed towns of Pennsylvania. Almost frantically, everything that could be undertaken for the Army was being done except as respected the supply of soldiers.

  Washington did not withhold a single detail of this tragedy from Congress, which had named Robert Morris head of a committee to conduct affairs in a Philadelphia that had taken on the look of a plundered town. Washington wrote Morris in plainest words:

  . . . unless the militia repair to the city of Philadelphia for defence of it, I see no earthly prospect of saving it after the last of this instant; as that fatal vote of Congress respecting the appointment of new officers has put the recruiting business upon such a footing, and introduced so much confusion into the old Regiments, that I see no chance of raising men out of them; by the first of next month then, we shall be left with five Regiments of Virginia, one of Maryland, General Hand’s and the remains of Miles’; reduced so much by sickness, fatigue &ca. as in the whole not to exceed, but short of 1200 men. Upon these and the militia is all our dependence, for you may as well attempt to stop the winds from blowing, or the sun in its diurnal, as the Regiments from going when their term is expired.

  Then Washington reiterated, “I am satisfied the enemy wait for two events only to begin their operations upon Philadelphia,” thick ice on the Delaware and the dissolution “of the poor remains of our debilitated Army.”

  The gods of weather appeared to be neutral. A heavy snow on the night of December 19/20 had been followed by a partial thaw on the twenty-first, with the result that the ice on the Delaware Christmas morning was not heavy enough to support troops or prevent the passage of well-handled boats. The ominous condition was a shift of wind toward the northeast. If that meant colder weather and more ice . . .

  The wind was rising rapidly and men hovering around the camp fire were talking of their departure for home within another week and commiserating the 1500 who had to remain. But Washington had on his table that Christmas Day an order that his troops were to start for McKonkey’s Ferry, “as soon as it begins to grow dark . . . and embark on board the boats . . .” Even if he had an Army for only a week more, Washington was going to attack.

  He had to attack. If boats became available, or the river was frozen deeply over, Howe had it in his power to strike directly south from Trenton or on the road to Philadelphia, or else to cross in rear of Washington’s Army and make it impossible for the Continentals to interpose their front between their adversary and Philadelphia. Washington’s chief reliance had to be on prompt intelligence of British movements and wise use of the boats he had and the enemy lacked. Washington would have the initiative until the ice on the river permitted a British crossing or his Army disintegrated at the year’s end. He must use that initiative.

  Trenton, Washington believed, was occupied by two to three thousand Hessian troops, who had six field cannon. Hessian contingents of varying size were encamped to the east and southeast of the town, as far downstream as Black Horse. The main British forces were north of Trenton—at Princeton, New Brunswick and Amboy. Christmas afternoon, the Continental regiments, to a total of about 2400 men were to parade behind the Pennsylvania hills at McKonkey’s Ferry, approximately nine miles upstream from Trenton. General Ewing was to assemble opposite Trenton a force of New Jersey and Pennsylvania militia, who aggregated six to eight hundred. Farther downstream John Cadwalader, acting Brigadier, was to bring together Continentals, Pennsylvania troops and Philadelphia “Associators”—about eighteen hundred men—who held the line of the Delaware between Bordentown and Dunk’s Ferry. Cadwalader’s point of assembly was to be Bristol.

  The main force of Continentals was to cross at McKonkey’s Ferry, make a surprise attack at Trenton and, if successful there, push on to Princeton. The calculation was that the passage of the river could be completed by midnight and that the blow could be delivered at Trenton by 5 A.M. on the twenty-sixth. Brig. Gen. James Ewing, opposite the town, was to time his passage of the stream so that he could land before day and cut off the enemy’s easiest line of retreat down the left bank of the Delaware. Detailed orders were given the general officers who were to cross with Washington. Discouragements developed, but Washington did not permit them to deter him. After darkness fell the troops began to move towards the ferry.

  Every ounce of courage was needed as night went on. Blocks of ice began to float down the river, which was high and flowing fast. New ice began to form; the wind rose and made the handling of the boats difficult. At midnight, when Washington had hoped his men and guns would be on the Jersey shore, the task was hours from completion. Not until 3 A.M. was the last artillery-piece safely on Jersey soil. Another hour was required to put all the regiments at their stations around the landing place. Four o’clock, nine miles of road to cover, sunrise about 7:23, and light by 7:10—in these circumstances Washington reasoned that the advantage of surprise would certainly be lost. He did not hesitate. His judgment told him that the loss of surprise scarcely could be worse than the harassment and casualties involved in a retreat across the river in the presence of the enemy. The advance must be made; the Hessians must be assailed the moment the town was reached.

  The Army pressed on. A
t Birmingham John Sullivan took about half the troops and cannon down the lower road which followed the general course of the Delaware. Nathanael Greene, with a like force, took the upper or Pennington Road. Washington soon joined Greene. As closely as the General could estimate it, the two columns had nearly the same distance to march—between four and five miles—to Trenton. He had all the officers set their watches by his and gave orders that when either column struck the Hessian outposts, it was, without waiting to hear from the other, to push into Trenton before the enemy had time to form line of battle.

  A light snow had covered the ground when the Army left camp; now, snow began to descend again. With it was mingled sleet or rain that froze and glazed the road. A more difficult time for a march over an unfamiliar route could not have been devised by the devil himself; it was a night when the indifferent soldier would cover his head with his blanket and the mercenary would hug the fire.

  Day began to dawn when the column of Greene was still two miles from Trenton. Soon Washington noticed that Greene’s advance had halted and went forward to ascertain the reason. He saw ahead a small company of men in a field. Before Washington could identify them, word was passed that they were Americans. What were they doing there? Capt. Richard Anderson of the Fifth Virginia explained that Gen. Adam Stephen had sent him to reconnoiter. He had carried out his orders and had just been to the Trenton outpost where his men had encountered and shot down a sentinel who apparently had not seen them in the storm until the moment they caught sight of the Hessian.

  Stephen was at hand when the Captain reported. Washington turned on the Brigadier in wrath he did not attempt to conceal: How had Stephen dared send a patrol across the river, the day before the expedition started, when he had not asked or received authority to do so? “You, sir,” Washington cried, “may have ruined all my plans by having put them on their guard!”

  This colloquy did not consume many moments, but the Pennington Road now was so heavily covered with sleet and frozen rain that advance became a slow, treacherous slide and stagger. It was half an hour after daylight when Greene’s van was at a point the guides reckoned as one mile from the town. As the enemy’s advanced guard was believed to be about half-a-mile from Trenton, Washington had now to halt and prepare himself and his men for the execution of his plan.

  Nothing had been heard of General Ewing, but Sullivan’s column was moving on steadily and without opposition. The General himself pushed on in Greene’s van, through the unrelenting storm, with the men at a “long trot” and about eight o’clock he left the woods about half-a-mile from the village. Ahead was a cooper’s shop which the Germans were using as an advanced picket post. In a few moments, the Americans were challenged; there were shouts and commands; almost a score of Hessians emerged from the building. The Continentals opened fire at once, though the range was overlong; the officer in charge of the post waited until Washington’s men were closer. Then the Germans delivered a volley which went wild in the roaring storm. Without making any pretence of further resistance at their advanced post, the pickets fell back. Three minutes after the first shot, there came from the south the welcome sound of musketry. Sullivan evidently was as far advanced as Greene and, like him, was rushing the outpost. Even if there was not to be a complete surprise of the enemy, resolution, storm and circumstance were giving Washington the closest approach to it. Push forward, then, with all possible speed and fullest strength; lose not a minute in hurrying the cannon to the head of King and Queen Streets. The Hessian pickets could offer slight opposition, but “for their numbers,” Washington said later, “they behaved very well, keeping up a constant retreating fire from behind houses.” This fire did not delay the advance. Washington could see the Germans forming in the town and beyond, but he could not ascertain what they were attempting to do. A few minutes more and Washington was on high ground whence he could view almost the whole of Trenton. He stopped the long trot of the infantry and bade them give more room to the artillerists to bring pieces into position. Every movement seemed clumsy and exasperatingly slow; but in reality, the well-drilled artillerists lost few seconds. Their great moment had come. Soon the “b-o-o-m” of the opening gun shook the heavy air. The second shot followed on the instant.

  MAP / 11

  THE NEW JERSEY AND PHILADELPHIA

  CAMPAIGNS, 1776-1778

  Visibility was so low at times that Washington probably could see nothing of what was happening where Sullivan was attacking. Nearer, Hugh Mercer’s men of Greene’s command were closing in. Some were breaking into houses the enemy held, some slipping through alleys and walkways and directing their fire against Germans along the street and beyond it, in the direction of Assunpink creek. For a few minutes it looked as if the enemy might make a bold charge, but this was broken up by American artillery. Then large numbers of the Hessians gathered on the open ground east of the town and formed their line as if they were going to file off to the American left. That was the direction of the road to Princeton, the only avenue of retreat available to the Hessians if Sullivan or Ewing by this time had occupied the bridge across the Assunpink. Washington sent Col. Edward Hand’s veterans and the Philadelphia German Battalion to take position directly across the line of Hessian retreat towards Princeton. As soon as the Continentals’ bayonets barred the way, Washington thought he saw the Germans halt and then begin to shift again as if they knew it was futile to attempt a retreat up the Princeton Road. Stirling’s impatient troops were allowed to go forward, the leading company, the Third Virginia, under Capt. William Washington and Lieut. James Monroe. When these Virginians took the German guns Washington could close the trap on the Germans. Their front was blocked; at their back were the cold, deep waters of the creek. Washington saw the trap shut. Then, presently, up the street spurred a young soldier who drew rein and cried rapturously that German regiments in the field had surrendered.

  How numerous they were, Washington did not know; but firing from the vicinity of the bridge led him to believe that Sullivan’s column still was fighting. Washington started to see for himself what was happening. About half-way to the bridge he came upon some Germans who were assisting badly wounded Col. Johann Rall, senior officer in the town. At that moment a young American came up the street. He was James Wilkinson, who represented Sullivan and carried the best of news: Another Hessian regiment, the last in the town, had grounded arms. Washington’s face shone with satisfaction. “Major Wilkinson,” he said, “this is a glorious day for our country.”

  It was victory! In the most desperate hour of the Army, less than a week from its virtual disbandment, the Continentals had won their greatest success. Ewing had not been able to cross at Trenton ferry because of the ice; at that hour, nothing had been heard from Cadwalader. The troops who had operated under Washington, and they alone, had defeated a force that consisted, prisoners said, of three German regiments. In the whole engagement not one American life had been lost. How the Hessians had permitted themselves to be surprised, nobody was able as yet to explain.

  Washington had now to decide whether he could follow up this lucky success. The prisoners must be placed where they could not be rescued. It would be politic to treat them with consideration and, perhaps, to wean them from the British. In the absence of the Continentals’ flanking forces, all the Hessians east and southeast of Trenton could be brought together to challenge any move Washington might make. The number of these Germans he believed to exceed that of his own force. Besides, there had been no contradiction of reports that a strong British battalion was stationed at Princeton. To undertake a new advance involved so many hazards that Washington thought he should consult his general officers. The conclusion was that of Washington himself: The American regiments must not take the chance of losing much by seeking more.

  When encamped at Newtown, Bucks County, and listed by rank, the German prisoners ran to a total the Americans never before had captured—918. German dead were estimated as “about twenty-five or thirty.”

  Res
olution to exploit advantages shaped Washington’s congratulatory orders:

  The General with the utmost sincerity and affection, thanks the officers and soldiers for their gallant and spirited behavior at Trenton yesterday. It is with inexpressible pleasure that he can declare that he did not see a single instance of bad behavior in either officers or privates; and that if any fault could be found, it proceeded from a too great eagerness to push forward upon the enemy. Much! very much indeed, is it to be lamented that when men are brought to play the part of soldiers thus well, that any of them, for the sake of a little temporary ease, should think of abandoning the cause of liberty and their country at so important a crisis. As a reward to the officers and soldiers for their spirited behavior in such inclement weather, the General will (in behalf of the Continent) have all the field pieces, the arms and accoutrements, horses and everything else which was taken yesterday, valued and a proportionate distribution of the amount made among the officers (if they choose to partake) and the men who crossed the river. The Commissary is strictly ordered to provide rum for the troops that it may be served out as occasion shall require.

  These, surely, were terms on which soldiers would contract to deliver the second blow that Congress and the country expected of them. At the moment, too, prospect of reenforcement seemed brighter: a regiment of light horse soon would arrive from Virginia; Arnold probably would push forward from the Hudson some New England militiamen; perhaps a few would be raised in New Jersey. The revival of hope in Philadelphia was instant. “This affair,” wrote John Nicholson, “has given such amazing spirit to our people that you might do any thing or go any where with them.”

  With militia assembled on the Delaware, near Bristol, Colonel Cadwalader was displaying on his own account bold and intelligent leadership. On Washington’s table December 27 were two letters Cadwalader had written him. One gave details of the failure on Christmas Day—how it had been impossible to land artillery in Jersey after dark because of the ice. Washington already knew the essential facts, but the letter had ideas that displayed firm spirit: Cadwalader proposed that he ferry the Delaware downstream and effect junction with troops General Putnam was expected to land in Jersey in order to reenforce the militia left at Black Horse by Col. Samuel Griffin. Combined, said Cadwalader, these men “would make a formidable body—this would cause a diversion that would favor any attempt you may design in future and would expose their baggage and stores if they attempt to cross.” Cadwalader’s other communication was equally bold: He was going to cross on the twenty-seventh, he said, and if Washington would send part of the main Army to Crosswicks, “we might perfectly surround the troops at Bordentown, so as to prevent one man escaping.”