The General's Christmas (7 page)

"Three miles to Birmingham,
Sir," General Greene said as he rode up next to Washington. He
continued, "Which means we should be there in about an hour and a
half if we don't have any more delays."

Washington nodded in agreement, but
calculated that the men had now been marching over 13 hours with
only a brief stop at the river. He feared they would be too
exhausted to fight or their fingers too numb to fill their muskets
with ball and powder when the time came. No one had gloves or
mittens, and warm coats and boots were scarce. Yet they marched on
through this blizzard with a determination that matched his
own.

Suddebly, a shout came from
the rear.

"Wheel broken! A six-pounder!"

Greene glanced at Washington and shook his
head, "Another one of Colonel Knox's designs, no doubt. I'll see to
it."

Washington nodded and stayed at the front of
the regiment.

The cannon was a six-pounder on a carriage
designed by Henry Knox. They were faster and lighter than regular
carriages, but the wheels were not as durable.

"We should've put these things on sleds!" one
of the men shouted as they lifted the carriage to remove the broken
wheel. A few laughed at the idea while another wheel was brought
from a supply wagon and replaced.

"I'll give that suggestion to Colonel Knox,"
Greene assured them.

Soon the carriage was back on the road and
the army continued to march. Greene rode along the column, making
sure that the men stayed in formation and kept up the pace.

When Greene told Knox the man's joke about
putting the cannon on sleds, Know didn't laugh, but frowned and
stroked his chin thoughtfully, saying, "Sleds? Aye, now there's a
thought! I wonder..."

On their journey, strong
windy gusts of nearly 50 miles per hour threatened to drive them
down to the ground. When the gusts diminished, they plodded on.
Walking through deep snow was arduous, and some men fell
behind.

One older man stumbled and fell. Two others
attempted to help him up.

"I can't do it!" the older man cried
piteously, "I can't go on!"

His legs buckled and he went down again. One
of the others grabbed his arm and pulled at him, shouting, "You'd
better, or you'll freeze to death! Keep moving!"

They dragged the exhausted
soldier to his feet. Another man took his back pack.

"Here, I'll carry this until you can get your
strength back."

The older man gave a toothless grin.

"Bless you, Brother!"

"Merry Christmas!" replied the other with a
smile.

The troops came to a wide
gully. At the bottom lay Jacob's Creek, which fed into the
Delaware. The path ahead was a steep downward slope, an ice-covered
creek at the bottom, and a steep rise up the other side. The first
men who came down the path started to slide. Some fell and others
slid to the bottom by the seats of their pants. Horses stepped
gingerly through the snow-covered icy road, sometimes sliding out
of control. Riders shouted, "Whoa! Hold on there!"

Washington noted the precipice before him and
guided his horse carefully along the bank of the slope.

"There's a steep path down to the creek," he
informed the men as they marched along the upper bank, "Watch your
step as you go down. Stay together!" he urged them.

Suddenly, his horse threw
back his head and whinnied in fear as the snowy edge of the bank
gave way, and the animal slid out of control. Washington leaned
forward in his saddle, crying "Whoa!" pulling the mare's head up.
He maneuvered the horse sideways to keep it from falling headlong
down the hill.

"Sir!"
Greene shouted from the top of the hill. He watched in horror
as the Commander in Chief struggled to keep his horse from falling.
Everyone stopped to watch, holding their breath, waiting for the
worst to happen. Suddenly, Washington righted himself in the saddle
and his horse's feet found solid ground. The animal was hesitant to
move, but Washington gently coaxed him back up the bank while
everyone released a sigh of relief.

Corporal Baylor rode to the general's
side.

"Are you all right,
sir?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Washington
replied, not feeling as confident as he sounded.

"That was a near thing, Sir!
If you'd fallen-"

"Yes, I know, Corporal. You'd have another
body to carry home tonight. Warn the officers that they should walk
the horses down the hill. There's nothing but ice under this
snow."

"Yes, sir!" Baylor nodded
and hurried back.

Colonel Knox heard the
warning from Corporal Baylor and got off his horse. But getting his
horse down that gully was the least of his problems. He had
eighteen heavy artillery to manage. He knew from his experience of
taking artillery in winter from Fort Ticonderoga, New York, over
the mountains to Boston, that moving heavy guns down steep hills
was a perilous task.

"Get the ropes, and bring
the six-pounders first!" he ordered.

After ropes were tied to the
carriage of the first gun, they were wound around a good-sized oak
tree and held by six men. The carriage was slowly lowered down the
hill by the ropes. The men dug their feet into the snow as they
struggled to keep the cannon from sliding out of control. Inch by
inch, the heavy guns were lowered down to the bottom of the gulley.
Then ropes were taken to the top of the other side, and horses
pulled them out of the ravine.

It took another hour to get all the horses
and artillery across Jacob's Creek, pushing them further behind
schedule.

The snowstorm continued to
rage with no sign of abating. They soon reached the crest of a
hill, and the road next sloped downward into Birmingham. The hill
was too steep for the horses to pull heavy artillery.

Colonel Knox shouted, "We'll
have to use the drag ropes, men! Tie them on the heavy guns and
form two lines on each side, six men to a line!"

The troops stopped marching
to wait as men tied long ropes to the artillery and formed two
lines. Horses couldn't do the job safely. It took another hour to
get the large guns down the long hill toward Birmingham.

When the last gun was brought down the hill,
Colonel Knox breathed a sigh of relief and notified Washington that
the artillery was moved successfully.

"Thank you, Colonel. Please
join me and the other officers when we reach
Birmingham."

"Yes, sir!" Knox replied and
rode back to his regiment.

If any of the men hoped to
find shelter, food, or warmth in Birmingham, they were
disappointed. The village was a small cluster of abandoned houses.
Every scrap of food and supplies had long since been looted. Some
of the windows were broken and the doors and shutters were torn off
for firewood.

The company halted as all of the officers met
up with Washington and Greene. Some of the men snacked on their
rations and water, but there was no time to make campfires.

Washington addressed the
circle of officers, still mounted on horseback. They rubbed their
hands together and pulled their cloaks tighter to keep them from
blowing away.

"It's nearly daylight,"
Washington began, "And we're only halfway to Trenton in this
blasted storm. But we've come this far and the other regiments may
already have attacked as they were ordered to do. We'll prepare for
battle in case the enemy is still there. Now, as we discussed
before, General Greene will take his regiment up the Upper Ferry
Road to Scotch Road and then down Pennington Road to north Trenton.
General Sullivan, you will take your regiment down River Road to
west Trenton and march in at Water Street. When you get to Trenton,
wait there until General Greene's regiment has time to arrive.
Remind the men to remain silent. I still have hopes of making a
surprise attack which should begin precisely at 8:00 a.m. Please
check your watches to make sure we are all at 7:09 a.m. The
password for the operation remains at Victory or Death."

The officers adjusted their
pocket watches by the light of a small lantern swinging to and fro,
and then rejoined their regiments to begin the final leg of the
march. In less than an hour, their fate would be decided; either
Victory or Death. As they marched ahead, each man knew that this
might well be his last Christmas; his last hour of life. Many of
them prayed silently as they marched, praying to stay alive,
praying not to be taken prisoner, praying not to be wounded or left
for dead in a snowdrift. Whatever fate awaited them in Trenton,
they only knew that they had sworn an oath to fight, and would
fight to their deaths.

Chapter 9

Anna set the dish of butter on the wooden
table and looked at the bread toasting on the hearth. She deftly
turned the grill over to toast the bread to a light golden brown.
Already on the table were cheese and apple slices. Elizabeth was
still up in bed recuperating, but Anna had become restless and
needed something to do.

As she prepared breakfast for her sister and
herself, she thought about Corporal Baylor, wondering if he had
reached Trenton and found their father.

She looked out of the window. Snow and wind
continued to howl and hurl icy crystals against the glass. During
the night she had heard thunder and saw a streak of lightning
during the freak storm that changed rain into sleet, then hail, and
finally snow. She couldn't remember seeing a stronger storm in all
the years that she had lived in New Jersey.

She worried about her father, wondering what
had happened to him. Had the Hessians kept him for labor, as
Corporal Baylor suggested, or had they killed him? The prospect of
losing her father was frightening. Tears welled in her eyes and she
brushed them away quickly, telling herself to have faith that her
prayers would be answered.

She thought about her books
that had burned with the house. On dark evenings in winter, when
she wasn't working, she often sat and read. Her father had given
her a few of his old books that she enjoyed reading. Besides
reading the Bible, her favorites were
The
Pilgrim's Progress
by John Bunyan, or
Milton's
Paradise Lost
or other verses. Her father was more liberal-minded and better
educated than most Colonists. An avid reader himself, he couldn't
deny his daughters the acquisition of knowledge or the
enlightenment of moral literature, though he wouldn't abide the
sonnets of Shakespeare or any other "heathen" author. He advocated
reading to enrich the mind and the soul, and not to entertain. Now
the nights would be long and lonely with nothing to do but card
wool or stitch a sampler.

She hoped her father would
return soon with Corporal Baylor. She imagined their happy reunion,
and Corporal Baylor's pleasure at seeing her family reunited. She
would shower him with gratitude. She wondered if he were married or
betrothed. He had an attractive face and kind eyes. Something about
his manner told her that he was a compassionate person who prided
himself on doing the right thing. When he smiled at her, she
imagined that he found her attractive and interesting, also. If
they could somehow get to know one another, would she find that his
kind eyes reflected a godly soul? Could he love her, she wondered?
Could she love him? Would he stay here or would the army be moving
him on to the next battle, and the next, leaving her behind in this
small desolate camp for the rest of winter? Their farm house would
have to wait in charred ruins until spring to be
rebuilt.

"Ah, you're feeling better today, are you?"
asked Widow Harris when she saw Anna making buttered toast.

"Yes, thank you. I'm taking breakfast up to
Elizabeth."

"That's good. Is there still some water in
the kettle?"

"Yes, and it's still boiling."

Widow Harris nodded and went to the hearth.
Anna put the toast, cheese, apples and sassafras tea on a tray and
carried it upstairs to Elizabeth's room.

Her sister was awake and smiled weakly. Anna
froze in the doorway, shocked at her sister's battered face, now
colorfully bruised and swollen.

"What? Do I look that bad?" asked
Elizabeth.

"No,..er, no, I just was checking to see if
you were awake."

"Liar," her sister teased and sighed, "Oh, I
must look a sight, but at least I'm alive."

Anna set the tray down on a bedside table and
sat down to look at her sister.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"Better. My feet still burn and itch
terribly. And it pains me to move much."

She attempted to sit up and Anna lifted her
shoulders gently and put another pillow behind her back. Anna sat
down on the bed and directed her gaze to her sister.

"Elizabeth, I must ask you something."

"Yes?"

"The other day, when you were attacked, did
that soldier…. did he-?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath before
answering, "He tried, but I fought him off so that he never got the
chance."

Anna was relieved. "Thank God! I've been so
worried about you! The bruises will mend in a few days. Widow
Harris says that nothing is broken, but some of your toes have
frostbite."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding and looked
hungrily at the toast and cheese.

"Here, let me help you-"

"Anna?" Elizabeth began, "I want to tell you
how grateful I am for your help. I couldn't have made it here on my
own. You saved my life."

Anna smiled, "We're sisters. You would've
done the same for me. Now eat this before it gets cold."