Hi Brenda,
The Christmas season is always a wonderful time of the year. This year, it is accompanied by a variety of challenges that have affected every one of us. Early in our history as a country, there was another Christmas that was celebrated amidst great difficulty. You have heard this story before, but we would like to share it again: a story of courage, a story of hope, and a story of overcoming the odds. This telling of the story is taken from The Real George Washington.
A Season of Success and Suffering
With the arrival of Sullivan’s troops, Washington decided to make one last strike against the British before the year’s end. Most of his six thousand men were due to go home at the end of December, barely a week away, and Washington wanted to utilize them one more time. General Howe, assuming that Washington would sit out the winter now that he was safely across the Delaware, retired to New York, leaving a series of posts to hold New Jersey. One of those posts became Washington’s target: the Hessian stronghold at Trenton. It would be a dangerous move—the entire American army would be at risk, and if they failed in the venture, retreat would be virtually impossible. But “necessity, dire necessity, will nay must, justify an attack,” Washington said.
On December 23 Washington had his men form in ranks and, seeking to prepare their tremulous hearts for the coming battle, ordered the first of Thomas Paine’s stirring Crisis papers read to them. “These are the times that try men’s souls,” it began. These agonizing words captivated the cold and hungry soldiers. They had indeed been tried. Paine’s words vividly recalled to mind the loss of Long Island, New York, Fort Washington, Fort Lee, the march across New Jersey, and the difficulty to “both officers and men,” who, “though greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit.”
Paine’s Crisis had the desired effect. The harsh cold of the New Jersey winter blew through their fragile garments—but the men resolved to bear up with manly spirits and be everything Paine’s eloquent lines had attributed to them.
Washington divided up his forces carefully for the attack on Trenton. Brigadier General James Ewing was to take about nine hundred men, cross the Delaware directly opposite Trenton, and capture a bridge, sealing off the Hessian retreat to the south. General John Cadwalader, with about two thousand men, was to cross downriver. There he would engage the Hessians stationed in Bordentown, preventing them from assisting their fellows in Trenton to the north. Washington chose to lead the dangerous main attack personally. With some twenty-four hundred men, he would cross upriver and march down to Trenton, arriving an hour before dawn. The chosen day of attack was December 26.
Perilous Crossing
The Americans celebrated apprehensively on Christmas Day, but the Hessians were carefree and self-secure. Colonel Johann Rall, commander of the Hessians at Trenton and a hero from the capture of Fort Washington, spent Christmas evening in a supper party, then called for wine and cards. The night storm howled around the home of the wealthy local merchant with whom he was visiting, but Rall paid it no heed. Was not this the night of the Nativity, the time for gaiety and celebration? He put the cares of war far from him. He had sentries posted along the roads, and they would certainly notify him if the Americans made a move. Besides, what army would be foolish enough to venture out on a stormy night like this?
As the cold evening darkened, Washington and his men began to move. Boats were waiting for Washington’s contingent at McKonkey’s Ferry, about nine miles above Trenton. The oarsmen, wrapped in heavy blue coats, were John Glover’s skilled Marbleheaders, a remarkable corps of fishermen from Massachusetts who were more comfortable on water than on land. Glover, a heavyset redhead, had led his men in performing the phenomenal evacuation of Long Island; now they would perform a similar feat in taking Washington’s twenty-four hundred men across the Delaware, this time fighting a heavy storm and sub-zero temperatures.
The men stood stoically on the river banks, waiting their turn to cross. The sleet mixed with snow pelted their faces, dripped under their collars. Some had covered the firelocks of their muskets with rags, attempting to keep them dry for the battle. Others, having no rags—or no foresight—watched miserably as their muskets became useless burdens.
Ice floated down the river, smashing against the boats and threatening to dump the passengers into the river. Hour after long hour passed, rows of weary men shifting in place as they waited on both sides of the freezing water. Washington hoped to have the crossing completed by midnight, but the stormy weather and ice-choked river slowed the movement. It wasn't until four in the morning that the army was ready to march.
Four hours earlier, an American Tory had stopped at the home of Colonel Rall’s host. The Tory said he had a vitally important message for the Hessian commander. Rall refused to see him. Nothing of great importance could be happening out in that storm, nothing that could not wait until morning. The Tory, desperate to convey his message, wrote Rall a note that could have undone everything Washington had so painfully planned. In substance it said, “The Americans are on the move, coming toward Trenton.” A servant passed the note to Rall. He disdainfully stuck it into his pocket without even looking at it and returned to his wine.
While Washington was struggling across the Delaware, Cadwalader and Ewing, commanders of the support contingents, were holding back. Ewing briefly agonized about crossing the icy water, then shook his head and decided not to attempt it. The river was impassable, he said. Cadwalader at least made the attempt. He successfully shipped men across for several hours, but when he tried to transport the heavy cannon, the riverbanks were too slick, too perilously coated with ice. Some of the cannon slid out of control and disappeared into the water. He finally recalled his men and canceled the march.
A Bloodstained March
With one lone contingent left for the attack—but unaware of Cadwalader’s and Ewing’s failure—General Washington organized his men into two divisions and began to march. John Sullivan’s division was to march along the river and attack the town from below. Nathanael Greene’s division, which Washington accompanied, was to enter the town from above.
The men had a nine-mile march ahead of them, traveling slick, icy roads. Lowering their heads and pulling their wraps tight against the storm that whipped about them, the men forged ahead. One officer scribbled in his journal, “It is fearfully cold and raw and a snowstorm setting in. The wind…beats in the faces of the men. It will be a terrible night for the soldiers who have no shoes.”
The officer’s words proved to be sadly prophetic. Jagged ice on the road cut through worn-out shoes and threadbare stockings. The next day, Major James Wilkinson, coming behind, could follow their route by the bloodstains in the snow.
As the soldiers marched, a worried report came to Washington that the sleet was wetting their muskets. For some, even the precautionary rags were proving inadequate. Washington’s determined reply: “Use the bayonet. I am resolved to take Trenton.”
Victory at Trenton
Shortly after daybreak, about eight o'clock, the two columns converged on the town. Shocked Hessians had no time to prepare. Rall hurriedly dressed and formed a regiment on King Street. Another regiment, wearing scarlet uniforms, formed on the parallel Queen Street. The American artillery was waiting for them. Both armies hesitated, and time seemed to stand still. Then the gunners, under a slender young American officer named Alexander Hamilton, lit the touchholes of the cannon. Grapeshot roared from the cannons' mouths and the screaming Hessians fell back.
On Queen Street the Hessians rolled out their own cannon and fired back. Bayonets at ready, a troop of Virginians sprinted toward the enemy, racing straight at the cannon. Captain William Washington, cousin of the commander in chief, and Lieutenant James Monroe courageously led the charge. In only moments the Americans had captured the cannon—but both Captain Washington and Lieutenant Monroe had fallen with serious wounds. Monroe likely would have bled to death had a doctor not been present. Through the doctor’s careful ministerings, Monroe survived to become the fifth President of the United States.
Sullivan’s men fought their way across town to meet Greene’s group. Their muskets generally useless because of wet firelocks, the untrained, awkward Americans were forced to rely on the bayonet. Frustrated, some wisely crept into houses and stores and dried their firelocks. When Rall formed a counterattack they were ready, dropping the Hessian commander from his horse with two well-aimed slugs.
It was a glorious and almost unbelievable victory for the beleaguered American commander and his troops. Nearly 1,000 Hessians were taken captive; another 115 were killed or wounded. Four Americans had been wounded, but not a single one was lost in battle—although in the fierce night before, two had tragically frozen to death.
“The enemy have fled before us in the greatest panic that ever was known,” one of the patriot soldiers wrote after the victory. “Never were men in higher spirits than our whole army is.”
On December 27 General Washington sent a detailed letter to Congress reporting the victory. The attack had been successful, he explained, but still had fallen short of his secret hopes. “Could the troops under Generals Ewing and Cadwalader have passed the river, I should have been able, with their assistance, to have driven the enemy from all their posts below Trenton.” But he was nevertheless proud of his men and what they had accomplished: “Their behavior upon this occasion reflects the highest honor upon them. The difficulty of passing the river in a very severe night, and their march through a violent storm of snow and hail, did not in the least abate their ardor. But when they came to the charge, each seemed to vie with the other in pressing forward.”
With best wishes, Tonya Nelson National Center for Constitutional Studies
P.S. Don't forget that our Christmas Sale ends December 21. |
