The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [142]
Before Howe had set sail, the army had received reinforcements, and Cornwallis knew that his division marched in the lead of an army of nearly eighteen thousand men. No one could be sure of the exact rebel strength, but Washington’s seasoned veterans could not number more than three or four thousand. Tory spies had assured Howe that any larger force the rebels brought to a confrontation would be composed of fresh troops and worthless militia.
SEPTEMBER 9, 1777
The rain had stopped with the sunrise, and Howe had ordered a halt to the march. The men flowed out into rolling fields, and Cornwallis was relieved to see that the landscape was changing, more of the rolling farmlands than the miserable swamps. The farms were not as groomed as they had been in New Jersey, fewer stout fences, few of the stone walls that had given the rebel marksmen such effective cover. Out in front, the lead units had spread out into a line of defense, the usual precaution against the sudden appearance of rebel riflemen. But there had been no sounds of firing, no resistance at all. For several days the scouts had spread out through the countryside without detection, and most had already brought their reports. The main force of rebels had marched through Philadelphia and advanced down near Wilmington. It was clear that Washington intended to bar the approach to Philadelphia, had moved the rebel army southward as Howe had moved north. The Tories had brought estimates every day of what they were facing, talk of as many as twelve thousand rebel troops, a number Howe considered ridiculous. But Cornwallis knew that numbers might not be as important as ground, and Washington would choose his ground with great care.
Cornwallis’ uniform was still soaking wet, and he led his men into a vast grassy field. He saw officers gathering, one moving toward him with a bearing of stiff formality.
“Sir, we regret to report that the men have lost the use of much of their powder. The storm has caused quite the inconvenience, sir.”
“Major, there is no apparent sign of the enemy. Do what you can to dry the powder stores, and send word to General Howe that most of our cartridges are likely ruined. We will feed the men as adequately as we can. I have no doubt that General Howe will resume this march with all haste.”
The officers moved away, and he looked at the sky, a sea of small clouds moving eastward. The air was thick and hazy, and he felt a warm breeze, thought, At least no rain today. If the roads dry out, we will make good time.
There was a splashing of hoofbeats, and he saw Howe’s flag emerging from down the road, let out a deep breath, no breakfast just yet. He stepped close to his horse, could see Howe himself. He glanced to his staff, saw them already climbing up into their saddles, thought, All right, so we will now learn what we are to do today. He pulled himself up into the saddle, felt the heavy wetness in his clothes. Howe was coming toward him, and he saw Charles Grey now as well, a long line of staff officers. Howe said, “Good morning, General. I regret we must make brief our rest. There is considerable news this morning.”
There was no pleasantness in Howe’s words, the man not even looking at him. Cornwallis had seen the look before, thought, Something has happened.
“Is the news to be shared with your command, sir?”
Howe focused on him now.
“Oh, quite, General.