by Ron Carter
At the opposite end of the table, the Reverend Alexander MacWhorter stood with bowed head and pleaded with all the strength of his soul for the Creator to allow His Holy Spirit to touch the men and grace their minds with light. They said their “Amens” and, as they raised their heads, every man in the room felt the first faint tingle in his heart.
Washington unbuckled the valise and drew out a folded map and laid it on the table before him, then rose. His blue-gray eyes quickly probed the circle of faces peering at him expectantly. He spoke with quiet authority.
“Gentlemen, tonight we are convened as a council of war to put in final form the details for the taking of Trenton. If we succeed at Trenton, then we shall consider going further east to take Princeton and on to Brunswick if possible.”
Each man slowly straightened in his chair and their breathing slowed for a few seconds as their minds leaped forward, groping with the impossibility of what was coming. He had previously talked of Trenton, but he had never suggested that success there would result in a second plan to move on Princeton ten miles further north where General Grant and a strong British garrison was quartered, and a third strike against Brunswick beyond that.
With steady deliberation Washington unfolded the map, three feet square, and laid it near the center of the table. It was a detailed, close-to-scale drawing of the Delaware River, from Lambertville to the northwest to five miles below Dunk’s Ferry at the southwest. Both the Keith House and the Merrick House were marked, west of the woods where the army was camped. He waited until the officers were satisfied and had settled back into their chairs.
“We covered some of this in a general way in our council of a few days ago. I choose to repeat it now as foundation for the detail of each of your assignments. It is the detail we will be discussing tonight, and the detail of each of your assignments is absolutely critical to the success of the attack that is planned.”
He drew the map closer to himself and began, pointing as he spoke.
“Our forces are camped here.” He tapped the map at McKonkey’s Ferry, with Taylor’s Island, long and narrow and heavily wooded, thirty yards off the riverbank.
“Colonel Johann Rall holds Trenton with about fourteen hundred Hessians, here, about nine miles south.” Again he tapped the map, then moved his finger, following the course of the Delaware south, then westerly where it curved back west past Bordentown, further, past Pennsbury, then Bristol and Burlington, and he tapped the map again.
“General von Donop has his force of about fifteen hundred here, at Black Horse and Mount Holly, near Dunk’s Ferry, about twenty miles southwest of Trenton. All Hessian forces are on the New Jersey side of the river.”
He paused for a moment. The men broke their intense concentration to look up at him, ready to move on.
“To take Trenton, we must isolate Rall’s garrison from any chance of getting reinforcements from von Donop. That means we must do two things. First, we must have a body of our troops cross the river just below the Trenton Ferry to seize and hold the bridge over the Assunpink Creek and control the road leading down to Bordentown to stop any of Rall’s men from carrying messages down to von Donop. Second, we must land a force across the river just above von Donop’s troops to cut them off from coming north, up the river to relieve Rall. Our troops will have to engage them vigorously and hold them there.”
He had said it twice. Americans were going to cross the river at two separate places. Every man at the table had watched the river like a hawk each day since John Glover and his Marbleheaders moved the army across the night of December seventh with the British dogging them like death. None of them had any illusions about the fact that if the ice froze thick enough to support cannon and cavalry, or if the British built boats, the Continental army was doomed and the Revolution with it. There was no sound in the room as they waited for Washington to reveal the miracle by which he proposed moving two forces across the river to attack the Hessians in their own quarters.
Washington cleared his throat, then dropped an index finger on the map. “Across the river from where we now are, the Bear Tavern Road is the first of three main roads leading to Trenton. It travels nearly due south, down to Birmingham, here, about five miles northwest of Trenton.”
He tapped the map and waited until he knew each man was tracking with him, then continued.
“At Birmingham, the Bear Tavern Road splits. One branch heads east, here, for about a mile, then turns south on the second main road, the Scotch Road. The Scotch Road eventually joins the third main road, the Pennington Road, and together the Pennington Road runs into Trenton, here at the north end.”
Again he paused, watching their eyes before he went on.
“After Birmingham, the Bear Tavern Road is called the River Road. It continues southeast, generally parallel to the Scotch Road and comes into the south end of Trenton. The River Road is less than one hundred feet from the riverbank.”
He waited until the attention came back to him, then moved on.
“See this mark below where the Scotch and Pennington Roads join? That is the home of a man named Richard Howell. He runs a cooper business there. The Hessians have occupied it with an advance post with sentries and a small company of infantry, perhaps ten or fifteen men. It’s less than half a mile from Trenton. They use that building to control the Pennington and Scotch Roads.”
He moved his finger along the River Road. “This mark? That’s the Hermitage. It’s a large home owned by Congressman Philemon Dickinson. The Hessians have confiscated it and have an advance post there, perhaps fifty men, to control the River Road. The home is also less than half a mile from Trenton.”
Some of the men shifted in their chairs and Washington waited until they were settled.
“Now turn your attention to the town of Trenton. There are but three main streets running north and south. King, Queen, and Quaker Lane. They all end here, within fifty yards of one another, where the Pennington Road comes in from the north and meets the Princeton Road coming in from the east.”
Again he waited until he saw they understood.
“At the south end, the Trenton streets come together at Queen Street, which is the only street that crosses the Assunpink bridge.” He moved his finger back to the north. “Starting at the north end of town, the streets running east and west are Fourth Street, Third Street, Second Street, and Front Street, nearest the river, here.”
He paused for a moment. “On the east side of town is an open area with an apple orchard. The Assunpink Creek runs just east of the orchard, essentially forming the southern boundary of the town.”
He traced the Creek with his finger. “The Creek is fairly wide and deep. If one does not cross at the bridge, there are very few places it can be crossed by cavalry or infantry without trouble, and no place to cross with cannon at this time of year.”
Piece by piece, the picture was materializing, and the officers again moved on their chairs while they waited for the most critical piece to drop into place: how did Washington plan to cross the river?
“Within the town, these are the critical points.” He put his finger on the map. “Rall has his headquarters here, on King Street, in a twostory home owned by a Tory named Stacy Potts. Rall usually has cannon deployed in front of it. On the corner of Queen and Third is a Methodist church with a tall white steeple.” He moved his finger down two blocks. “The greatest concentration of Hessian troops is here, on King Street, in the Old Barracks. It’s thick-walled, built of stone, and houses about three hundred soldiers. Behind it are pens for their cavalry mounts and cattle for food. Here, on Second Street, between Queen Street and Quaker Lane, one of Rall’s officers, Lieutenant General Knyphausen, has a small command billeted in eight buildings.”
He stopped and raised his head. “Considering their rank, it’s odd that Colonel Rall has command over Lieutenant General Knyphausen. It seems that distinction was given to Rall because of his outstanding performance when his command stormed one of the walls at Fort Wa
shington.”
Washington stopped, and for a moment he could not surpress a rare smile. It flashed and was gone and the men at the table caught it, and in their faces he saw their need for an explanation of what could draw a smile from a man notorious for not smiling, considering the desperate matters now before them.
“Gentlemen, I share with you a strange peculiarity for which General Knyphausen has become notorious.” Again the smile came. “It seems he has the habit of buttering his bread with his thumb.”
Raucous laughter rang off the walls and Washington said and did nothing to stifle it. He stood with his shoulders shaking silently as he contained his own laughter and gave his officers free rein for their spontaneous outbursts of hilarity. A minute passed before they settled and Washington pulled them back to the agenda.
“There’s a third officer named Lossberg who is billeted with his men along King Street with Rall. The balance of the Hessian forces are disbursed throughout the town in the homes or barns or buildings, wherever they can find housing.”
He waited while the men studied, then continued. “You will recall the Germans celebrate the twenty-fifth of December to honor the birth of Jesus. Traditionally it is two days of food and drink and festivities. I anticipate that Rall will somewhat relax the daily routine among his troops and provide additional rations of rum. By the evening of the twenty-fifth it is probable their thoughts will be quite far removed from battle, and by midnight a fair number of them will be incapacitated by their indulgence in rum and wine. By five o’clock the next morning, December twenty-sixth, Rall’s command will be as vulnerable to attack as they’re ever going to be. That’s when we will strike.”
Murmuring broke out once more, and Washington raised a hand to still it. Then he continued speaking.
“One more matter weighs heavily in this decision. About three weeks ago I sent a message to Congress setting forth the dates on which enlistments expire for our various regiments. Nearly all of them end at midnight on December thirty-first. I am lately informed that the message was intercepted by the British and delivered to General Howe.”
The officers gasped as one and burst into agitated conversation. Some hit the table with clenched fists. Again Washington raised his hand to command silence, and again he waited until the room was quiet.
“I agree, gentlemen. At first it would appear to be a catastrophe for us, but it might be a blessing instead. If General Howe does indeed have the document, he will probably conclude that he need only keep us trapped here until the thirty-first, at which point the soldiers will leave as their enlistments expire. The Continental army will dissolve, and he can crush the Revolution and recapture the colonies for Britain because there will be no armed force to resist him. If he thinks along those lines, that will strengthen the likelihood that neither he nor his forces will be thinking in terms of battle. Rather, they will have greater inducement to do what they ordinarily would have done anyway—remain where they are, starving and freezing us out until our army dissolves at year’s end.”
He paused. “With that in mind I have concluded that a third large force of our men will cross the Delaware here, at McKonkey’s Ferry, then turn south and march to Birmingham, here. There, the force will split. One command will continue south to take the River Road down past the Hermitage, to the south end of Trenton. The other command will go due east to the Scotch Road, then directly south down to join the Pennington Road, past the advance post there.”
Talk arose and subsided.
“These two commands will arrive at Trenton at the same time, five o’clock in the morning. The one on the River Road will hit the Old Barracks and move on past to seal off the Assunpink Creek bridge and hold the south end of town. The command traveling down the Scotch Road will set up artillery at the north end of town, commanding a clean field of fire down both King and Queen Streets, and at the same time storm Rall’s headquarters. That command will also continue east to cut off access to the Princeton Road. By that time, part of those at the south end of town will have continued east, and the two commands will then move to meet each other to close the gap on the east side. When they meet we will have Rall’s garrison in Trenton surrounded, with Generals Cadwalader and Ewing cutting off any hope of rescue from von Donop.”
There it was! Three separate commands of starving, freezing men, a few poorly trained, most not trained at all, were to cross the icechoked river over a spread of twenty miles, each at a different place and a different time, at night, and arrive on schedule. One command was then to march nine miles, and at exactly the right moment the three commands together were to attack three thousand of the best trained, best armed, most feared soldiers in the world. The officers sat straight up with eyes narrowed as they waited for Washington to complete what sounded like an impossible plan.
Washington leaned forward on stiff arms, palms flat on the table and his eyes were like flecks of blue diamond as the men settled and did not move.
“The command assignments will be as follows.”
The only sound in the room was the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Washington turned his eyes to Colonel John Glover. “Colonel, you and I met to discuss this matter two days ago, but only in the abstract. Now I put it to you directly. Can you move our forces across the Delaware in the Durham boats tomorrow in the late afternoon and night, troops, cannon and horses, in time to attack Trenton at exactly five o’clock the morning of Thursday, December twenty-sixth?”
There was the quiet sound of breath suddenly drawn, and then silence.
Glover studied his commander’s blue-gray eyes, and he reached inside himself and the faint tingle every man had felt when the Reverend MacWhorter invoked God’s blessing on the council was suddenly there, growing, filling him, rising above the voice that screamed out the insanity of the plan. Every eye in the room was on Glover, and tension hung like something tangible.
The little man nodded and spoke quietly. “Yes, sir. I’ve thought about it. We can.”
For an instant Washington’s breath caught while every other man in the room exhaled and moved, then settled once again.
Washington continued. “I have sent orders to General John Cadwalader who will command the force that is farthest south. He will cross the river here, at Dunk’s Ferry, north of the Hessians commanded by General von Donop, and he will engage them and hold them there to cut off any attempt to come north to relieve Rall.
“Likewise, General Ewing will command the force that crosses just below the Trenton Ferry to cut off any escape by the Hessians in Trenton across the Assunpink bridge, and to capture any messengers Rall may send south to get help from von Donop.”
Washington tapped the map and looked at Major General John Sullivan. “General Sullivan, you will command the force that follows the River Road south from Birmingham. You will take care of the Hessian outpost at the Hermitage, here, then move down to hit Trenton—half your men above the Old Barracks, half below—and move into the eastwest streets of Trenton.”
General Sullivan stared at the map, then raised his eyes and nodded firmly.
Washington turned back to Glover. “Colonel Glover, after your men have moved the army across the river, they will accompany General Sullivan to become the section of his command that goes into Trenton south of the Old Barracks, near the river. Move across the Assunpink bridge and set up cannon and lines along the creek so you cover both the field and the orchard to the north, and the Bordentown road coming in from the south, where von Donop will appear if he gets past Cadwalader and Ewing. Colonel Stark and his New Hampshire regiment will be with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Washington looked at Major General Nathanael Greene and for a moment their eyes locked. “General Greene, you will lead the command down the Scotch Road. Your subordinate commanders will be Generals Stirling, Mercer, Stephen, and de Fermoy.” As he spoke their names, Washington looked at each man in turn. Finished, he turned to General Stephen.
“General Stephe
n, you will be the first across the river as the advance guard. You will need to clear the Hessians from Howell’s outpost, here, outside of town, then continue for about five hundred yards, where you rejoin the command.” He tapped the map at various places as he spoke, and he turned his eyes from one officer to the next as he said their names.
“General Mercer, you will lead your force to the rear of Rall’s headquarters, here, and take it, then continue on through Trenton on the east-west streets, driving the Hessians out as you go.” He moved his finger north. “The balance of your command will move across the north end of the town. Colonel Knox will stop here, at the head of King and Queen Streets and set up his cannon facing south to sweep King and Queen Streets and Quaker Lane. Generals Stirling and Stephen and de Fermoy will be with me waiting to see where they are needed. If all commands are successful, we will have Rall’s garrison trapped.”
With deliberation he once again opened his valise and withdrew several documents, each bearing his wax seal. He read the name inscribed in his own handwriting on each document, and as he did, he handed it to the officer named. Each man received his packet and laid it on the table, still sealed.
“Those are your individual sealed orders. They are identical to the plan I have laid before you tonight. Take them with you and memorize them, then burn them. It will be a court-martial offense if any of those documents fall into hands other than your own.”
Washington straightened and for a moment rubbed his jawline. “We’ll pause for a few minutes. Feel free to move around. If you have to leave the room, go in pairs and do not speak one word of this to anyone. Refreshments are in the corner.”
For a full five seconds no one moved and then each man picked up the sealed document on the table before him and carefully unbuttoned his tunic, placed it in the inside pocket, then re-buttoned his tunic, patting his breast to be certain the orders were safely inside. Then each straightened, pushed back from the table, and stood, and open talk filled the room.