Origins_Revolution

by Mark Henrikson

  “Why would they do that?” the colonel asked with a straight face and his arms tucked politely behind his back.

  “Because we’ve lost New York. Worse yet, the fortresses we reinforced in the hopes to stall the British army’s pursuit of us have been overrun.”

  “We knew that would happen,” the colonel said. “We just needed them to gain us enough time to reach the Hudson River and make our crossing.”

  “And our defeats continue to mount,” Washington bellowed. “The army has lost all faith in our ability to win. That sentiment could not come at a worse time for us as half the army’s enlistment is up once we hit the New Year next month. None of them are going to reenlist now. Did you consider that before sabotaging our defensible position in New York?”

  “That is a valid argument, sir, but I would point out that there still needed to be an army at year end for that to become an issue,” the colonel countered. “To your point, now we can address that concern.”

  The brashness of the man was almost laughable. Washington even let out a soft chuckle before finding his words again. “I suppose you have some grand idea that will both allow us to escape the British encirclement of our army, and garner a victory to encourage our men to reenlist.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” the colonel answered on his way past Washington to the maps laid out on the table. “Once we’ve crossed the Hudson River, they will expect the army to continue north, but we need to double back and head south for Trenton, New Jersey instead.”

  Washington took a moment to evaluate the suggestion. He liked the aggressiveness. The move might even help with morale, heading back toward New York City, but there was a glaring problem that made him toss the notion aside. “Your plan would pin us against the Delaware River. We’d be no better off than we are now.”

  “The British navy commands the Hudson River, but they have no such dominion over the Delaware. That river is not navigable for their big gun boats. The move would nullify one of their key advantages,” the colonel offered.

  “We suffer the same disadvantage,” Washington objected. “We have boats on the Hudson to ferry us across the river, but we have none on the Delaware.”

  “That is easily remedied,” the colonel deflected. “I will move ahead of the army and procure the boats we need.”

  “The British will do the same and continue their pursuit without interruption.”

  “Not if I purchase or destroy every boat, raft, or canoe we find,” the colonel concluded with a mischievous smirk. “That is unless you think my swinging from the end of a rope would do more to help this army with its tactical situation and failing morale.”

  Washington wanted nothing more than to see the colonel pay for the crime he knew was committed, but the man was far too valuable to him still drawing breath. His plan earned him yet another stay of execution, and that fact had Washington gritting his teeth as he said, “Move ahead and secure the boats. My army will be along as quick as we can to use them.”

  “As ordered,” the colonel replied and followed it with a crisp salute before turning to exit the tent while presenting the general a tempting target. Oh how he longed to kick the man in his backside, but the greater good of the army and this new nation came first.

  **********

  “All of them?” General Henry Clinton repeated as if the statement were a ludicrous notion uttered by a child. “They purchased all of the transport ships on the Delaware River? That can’t possibly be.”

  “It is,” General Howe replied.

  “Well, try further up river then.”

  “Begging your pardon, Henry, we have searched twenty miles in both directions. The rebels hired or destroyed every boat. At one of the last piers we tried, my men found this note nailed to the dock gate. It’s addressed to you,” General Howe said while extending his hand holding a folded page with Henry Clinton scribbled across it.

  Henry unfolded the piece of paper and found a single sentence to read:

  Sorry you missed the boat Henry; I salute the effort though…

  Henry crushed the page between his two hands and crumpled it into a little ball as he breathed through his rage. The rebel commander was taunting him by name, and the salute was blatant reference to the mocking gesture his friend used back in Edinburgh. He was sure of it. His father was right; this enemy had connections to that one somehow.

  This was maddening. Here Henry sat with his overwhelming forces poised to strike. His enemy was less than a mile away, yet it may as well have been a thousand. There was no way to cross the river. This rebellion prompted by this enemy of the Freemasons was almost at an end, but the deathblow would have to wait until the spring campaign season.

  It was not all bad though, New York City would be a fabulous place to winter his army while the rebels froze in their tents. The harsh elements and desertion would likely cause more damage to their ranks than cannon and musket fire ever could.

  “See to deploying the Hessian troops as garrisons in Trenton, Princeton, and Border Town along the banks. I’ll take the regulars back to New York City proper and establish winter accommodations there.”

  “That is a grand plan,” General Howe commended.”

  Chapter 35: Counterpunch, Delaware Style

  “Come on, push with your legs,” Valnor said to Paul and two others as they labored to shove their boat off the gravely embankment into the Delaware River. A collective grunt got the vessel moving. With enough momentum established, they jumped into the boat one after the other. Valnor was the last man in and felt the harsh bite of ice-cold water rush over the top of his boot when he planted his foot to make the leap.

  “Oh dear god that’s cold,” Valnor complained as he took his seat and grabbed an oar.

  Paul sat down at the front of the craft and used a pole to deflect a particularly large chunk of ice away from their boat. “Christmas in New England, it doesn’t get much colder than this. It’s the middle of the night and clouds are covering the moon, you sure we should be out on the river right now? I can’t see more than ten feet in front of us.”

  “Positive,” Valnor assured him. “Now keep quiet all of you. We need to make it to the middle without a sound. We can’t even have splashes from your oars. The others are doing likewise.”

  As the boat drifted toward the middle of the Delaware River, Paul leaned in to Valnor and whispered. “What others? Who is crazy enough to be out here among all this ice?”

  “You’ll see soon enough. Till then, keep pushing those ice blocks out of our way.

  A few minutes later, Paul whispered from up front, “I see another boat ahead.”

  Sure enough, out of the murky haze the outline of a small boat carrying a dozen men materialized. That prompted Valnor to whisper an order to his crew. “Slow down to their pace.”

  That allowed Valnor to look up from his rowing. He spotted a second boat to their right, another to their left, and yet a forth coming up from the rear. There were random splashes here and there from the darkness that enveloped them, but for the most part, it was complete silence as they drifted on. It was then that the clouds decided to part and allow the moon’s silver light to reveal the entire scene.

  Spanning Valnor’s entire field of vision were boats rowing their way across the Delaware River; two or three hundred of them. Each carried ten to twenty soldiers holding muskets tipped with bayonets at the ready. It made him almost feel sorry for their foes.

  By the sound of things earlier in the day, the German auxiliaries that the British hired to supplement their forces had celebrated Christmas Day in fine, rip-roaring fashion. Even if this were not a surprise midnight raid, those soldiers would be lucky to manage handling a weapon in their intoxicated state. This was going to work very, very well.

  The moon ducked behind another cloud and cast them into darkness once more. A few minutes later, a commotion up ahead broke the silence. At first there were several yells cut short by a wet, gurgling sound. Next came sporadic musket fire and more
screams rippling off into the distance.

  “I see shoreline up ahead,” Paul reported.

  “Give it one last pull, then drop your oars and pick up your weapons,” Valnor shouted now that the silence was good and broken.

  The moment a grating crunch sounded along the boat’s hull, the men were on the move. One by one, they leapt from the bow of the boat onto shore, making sure to clear the frigid water and avoid Valnor’s issue of dealing with a numb foot during the battle.

  “Stay by me,” Valnor shouted to Paul as they followed the parade of armed men into the slumbering camp of the enemy. Paul had seen battle before as a drummer boy, but rushing into a conflict as a soldier carried with it a far different tune.

  Smoldering remnants of campfires nestled among endless rows of beige tents lit the Hessian position in a devilish red and yellow flicker as dark shadows rushed past the dying flames. Valnor and Paul plunged right into the fray.

  “Clear that tent,” Valnor ordered a moment before ducking into his own target. There he found a soldier still passed out in his bedroll. Valnor did not pause to consider if it was sporting, he just drove his bayonet through the man’s chest and was already on his way out of the tent before the unfortunate individual could let out a sound.

  Across the aisle, Valnor saw Paul still inside the tent. He dashed over and tossed the flap open to find the youth standing over an unconscious soldier. His bayonet was pointing down, inches away from his target, but he did not strike.

  Valnor knew that hesitation well. There was nothing easy about killing a man, especially for the first time and in cold blood. It took a mental toll on even the most hardened men. Still, it needed doing. Valnor took one step to come in behind Paul, placed his free hand on the stock of the weapon, and shoved downward with a hard stab.

  The bayonet blade slid into the soldier’s chest with little more than a squish announcing the deadly strike. The man’s eyes snapped open and he attempted to draw breath, but his punctured lung was no longer up to the task. A moment later, streams of blood began to flow from the corners of his mouth as he continued trying to draw breath, but soon drown in his own fluid.

  There was a reason Valnor left the tent of his target in a hurry. True, he needed to move onto the next tent, but the real reason was so he did not have to witness this. The aftermath, the slow, quiet death. It was personal and tragic, and Paul could not bring himself to look away. This is why Valnor insisted he stay close to him.

  Valnor grabbed Paul by the shoulder, turned him around, and gave a firm shove out the opening. “Move it soldier. You have a job to do. You can think about it and pray for their souls later on your own time. Right now you do as ordered.”

  Another shove down the row of tents seemed to bring Paul back to the present. “Yes…yes, sir.”

  They had time to assault another pair of soldiers in their beds before they began facing conscious individuals. One Hessian stood in the aisle wearing nothing but a scowl as he hurried to load his musket. Valnor’s was already loaded, so he took aim and fired. Paul shot another and sent his target stumbling back into the tent with a mortal wound.

  That same scene played out all across the camp until the Hessian’s came to grips with their situation and began exiting their tents with arms held up in surrender. In less than an hour, the entire camp surrendered with row after row of prisoners marched back to the boats where captivity awaited them on the far side of the Delaware River.

  When morning broke, Valnor found General Washington nestled among a group of officers reciting their reports. It was all smiles, cheers, and handshakes of congratulation.

  “Nearly two hundred dead or wounded,” a major reported.

  “We rounded up over nine hundred prisoners and confiscated about two thousand guns along with ammunition. This is a spectacular victory, General!”

  “One the men desperately needed to feel before the New Year’s enlistment,” Washington added before his eyes spotted Valnor approaching. “And here is the key architect of this endeavor. Colonel, did you lose any men from your company?”

  “A few scratches, but nothing serious,” Valnor answered. “Did everyone else fair as well?”

  “In total, we lost two men with another twenty or thirty recovering from minor wounds. All and all, this assault could not have gone better. You are all to be commended.”

  “It was a masterful stroke,” one of the officers added as he took and read a report from one of his cavalry riders. “It may be short-lived I’m afraid. My scouts report the British regulars have broken camp and are on the march from New York. They will be here by nightfall with six or seven thousand men, and as we just proved, this is not a very defensible position.”

  “Blast!” General Washington vented. “If we run immediately back across the river, this will feel a lot more like a retreat than a victory to the men.”

  “We can stand our ground and fight,” one of the officers suggested. “They would only have double our numbers. If we bring some artillery ashore we could hold against their charges, I’m sure of it.”

  Valnor wanted to yell and scream how ludicrous the idea was, but he held his tongue in order to see if General Washington was coming over to his way of thinking. In this instance, silence was golden and it paid off.

  “No,” Washington announced after a minute spent in quiet contemplation. “The British lines are more organized than ours. We cannot stand to fight European style battles against them, especially on unfavorable ground.”

  The general went on, gaining more conviction in his tone as he continued. “We also learned last night that this army works best while on the move. We have the only boats on this river and can come and go as we please. We came and conquered, but now it is time to go. Even if that means jeopardizing morale and the prospects of reenlistment, that is the reality we face.”

  “Maybe not,” Valnor announced with a sly smile. He knew the letter he left Henry would throw him off balance. The general was so eager to deliver payback for the taunt that he did not fully consider the implications of his troop movements.

  “We know the bulk of their army is coming here. That also means we know where they will not be,” Valnor explained.

  “What do you have in mind?” Washington asked.

  “Their forces won’t get here until nightfall. I think we know their commander’s cautious tendencies well enough by now to conclude they will not launch an attack until morning,” Valnor said.

  “That is a fair assumption,” one of the officers answered.

  “Then tell me, how much fire wood did the Hessians leave us in this camp?” Valnor asked.

  “Plenty,” the officer answered with a growing smile that spread across the officers corps and even reached the lips of General Washington.

  Chapter 36: Deception and Warfare

  “that fire needs more wood, so does the one halfway down the aisle,” Valnor said to Paul.

  “Can you get it? I need to stoke the flames two rows over,” Paul managed to say between heavy breaths.

  “Can’t, I’m taking the wheelbarrow to get more wood,” Valnor countered. “Spread around what we have here and I’ll be back shortly.”

  “At least the Hessians were good enough to leave an ample supply of chopped firewood,” Paul sighed while bending down to load up another armful. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

  “If you learn one thing from this experience as a soldier, let it be this. All warfare is based on deception.”

  Hearing the famous quote brought a condescending glare from Paul before finishing the entire passage for his mentor. “Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. I’ve read Sun Tzu, remember, it was at your prompting.”

  “You may have read, and even memorized the words, but do you understand how to employ them in the real word?” Valnor stopped to ask.
The wood could wait, young Paul’s education was more important. Interesting how Captain Hastelloy used to play these games with Valnor, and now it was his turn to do the same with his protégé. He rather liked the feeling. “What from that passage is this army employing right now?”

  Paul considered his answer for a moment before saying, “When using our forces, we must appear inactive.”

  “Go on,” Valnor prompted.

  “The bulk of the British army arrived at nightfall and their scouts no doubt observed our army setting up camp and constructing fortifications,” Paul continued. “They think the Continental Army is right here, but it is actually on the march north while you, me, and ten others are left tending the campfires to further sell the ruse.”

  “When far away, we must make him believe we are near,” Valnor added. “The old leave-the-camp-fires-burning trick does that job quite nicely.”

  “Yes, it’s an old trick performed numerous times throughout history. It’s so obvious we may as well construct a wooden horse and leave it for them to cart into their camp in the morning,” Paul challenged.

  “The campfire trick has been done so many times through the ages because it works so well,” Valnor countered. “Now, what else from Sun Tzu’s advice are we employing?”

  The question earned a confused look and a shake of his head from Paul. “I’m not sure.”

  This is where the real education starts, Valnor said to himself while reflecting on his many ‘I don’t know’ answers to Captain Hastelloy’s leading questions through the years.

  “When we are able to attack, we must seem unable,” Valnor suggested. “The British have more than 30,000 soldiers in this area compared to our 3,000. They have ten times our numbers, so they expect us to be on the run.”