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By Root 1169 0

while, could see movement in the brush along the creek, Greene’s men rising from their cover, forming their lines. The first wave was already at the creek, officers leading them to the shallow fords. The Hessian guns continued to pound the air, but there was no aim, nothing to show they were even aware that the attack was coming toward them. Washington could hear the men in the creek now, shouts and splashes, saw field guns moving up behind them, the cannon that would give covering fire, or even better, might be put to use close to the enemy. We know where their guns are, and if we are quick, they will not be able to protect them. He looked for Knox, the round man astride the horse, but the movement along the creek held his attention, more of Greene’s troops marching through the rocky stream. He thought of climbing the horse, moving closer, but he could do them no good now. No, I must remain here. There is too much at stake. They must be able to find me.

As Greene’s men flowed across the creek, Washington felt his nervousness surging through him, knew that once across, they would have to gather, form again into good order. The Hessians are too far back to prevent that, and certainly their officers will hold them ready behind that hill, or, if they are scattered into smaller units, there will be a mad scramble to bring them into line. They cannot be expecting us to attack, and that may be all the advantage we require. The momentum is ours, and Mr. Greene will know to shift his lines to exploit their weakness.

There was nothing for him to see, no sounds of a fight yet, and he moved to the small office in the house, stood beside the desk, could not sit, still listened for the first sounds of Greene’s assault.

“Sir!”

Tilghman was back, standing in the open doorway, breathing heavily, and Washington saw a paper in his hand.

“Sir, a message has just arrived from General Sullivan!”

Washington took the paper, thought, It is too soon for word of his assault. There has been no sound of a fight in that direction.

General,

Since I sent you the message by Major Moore, I have heard nothing of the enemy about the forks of the Brandywine, and am confident they are not in that quarter, so that the earlier information must be wrong.

There was a long silent moment, and Washington stared at Sullivan’s note, names of fords, mention of roads that were unfamiliar, not on any map Washington had seen. He felt a cold sickness, a sudden dark panic, listened for a long moment, still no sounds from across the creek. He looked at Tilghman now, said, “We must pull them back. It could be a trap.”

The words flowed from him in a soft voice, and he saw Tilghman’s confusion.

“Go to General Greene immediately. Halt his advance. Tell him that General Sullivan has offered new information. He does not believe the British are in his quarter. It is quite possible that Howe is still right up there, close beside the Hessians. Have General Greene reverse his advance, and return his men to the near side of the creek.”

Tilghman seemed stung by the words, and Washington pointed across the creek, said, “Now, Colonel!”

Tilghman was quickly away, and Washington stared at the paper still in his hand, thought of John Sullivan. How can you not be certain? Must I go up there myself? No one can hide the march of an army. Have you not examined the roads? We move this army on information, and when that information is contradictory, we can do nothing at all. He wanted Sullivan there now, wanted to ask him, how can you send me reports that claim one thing, then change your mind? What am I to think? How are we to act?

Lafayette was in the doorway, a look of silent concern, and Washington moved to his chair, sat numbly, and Lafayette said, “Should I ride to General Sullivan, sir? If he is mistaken . . .”

“He is already mistaken, Mr. Lafayette. Either General Howe is upstream, or he is not, and I have letters claiming both.” All the excitement of the morning, all the optimism was drained from him, and he spread the papers on the small table in front of him, shook