The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [334]
The tactic of a full hard assault against the British lines was still in his mind, the temptation to capture this magnificent victory in one powerful thrust. But a frontal assault now would have to concentrate in a narrow area, into a much greater mass of power. A slaughter would be a certainty. If Washington had any doubts about conducting a siege, he understood now that Cornwallis had made his decision for him.
OCTOBER 6, 1781
For several days, the engineers had given instructions, and a thousand men had spread out behind the lines into the woods, cutting and gathering great masses of sticks and cut limbs, bundling the timber into stout bales. It was the same kind of work Washington had seen at Boston, the bundles used to assemble a wall of fortifications. At Dorchester Heights, the work had been done in one night, and when the British woke, Boston was suddenly under the guns of Washington’s army. The enemy then had been William Howe, and Howe had responded by abandoning the city. Now, the enemy was a different kind of commander, a man who was pinned into a desperate hole and would certainly seek some vulnerability, some means to strike out at his enemy. If the parallel trench was to be dug and fortified, it would have to be accomplished with the same efficiency that Washington had seen at Dorchester Heights. They would have to complete the task in absolute quiet, in only one night.
Nearly four thousand men took part in the work, half serving only as guards to protect the laborers in the event the British launched an assault. They were blessed by a light rain, which blanketed them from moonlight and muffled any sounds. The engineers worked the men for eight hours, long shifts of the fittest men armed only with shovels. As each new section of trench was dug, the bundles of sticks were carried forward, placed up in front of the workmen. All through the night, British cannon barked out across the open ground, but with no good aim, no sign that the British had any notion of the work that progressed well within the range of their guns. When the sun rose, it was exactly as Washington remembered on Dorchester Heights, stunned British lookouts staring in amazement at the fortified works so close to their defenses. The work could continue by day now, the trenches protected from British fire by the high mounds of sand and sticks. For three days they labored still, the trenches widening into strong fortified lines, gun pits constructed, the cannon brought forward in complete cover. They pushed on, used the nights to move closer yet, and each morning the lines had been dug farther forward, forming a second parallel. When the sun rose, Washington heard the enthusiasm of the marksmen, already moving into place, carving