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By Root 1368 0

the army of William Howe. He felt no danger, could see no visible sign that anyone on that side was even paying much attention to the river. He retrieved the new field glasses, a gift from his friend Robert Morris, so much more compact than the long spyglass. Morris was a member of congress, one of the strong voices in Philadelphia who continued to support Washington in a city where the defeats of their army were causing many to wonder if the selection of this Virginian to be commander in chief had been a mistake. Washington gripped the ivory glasses, felt the gold trim, the lenses a much better quality than anything he had used before. He had wondered how expensive they were, but he knew that Morris was a wealthy man, and some were already talking about him as the most qualified man in congress to engineer the financing so desperately required to maintain the army. He focused the glasses, thought, If we continue to lose so much of our strength, money might not be a concern. There might not be an army left to feed.

He could see a column of red-coated British now, moving up a long rise beyond the town, then disappearing to the east. He thought, Howe is dividing his army, weakening his position. But we cannot be certain those troops will not suddenly appear somewhere else, upriver perhaps. Washington had considered that Howe might attempt a flanking movement, to ford the river beyond the view of his lookouts. It was the lesson learned from the fight on Long Island, and if Howe had forgotten the flanking tactics that gave the British such success, Washington had not. Washington had been meticulous in removing any boats, and if the British were to cross the river, they would have to make a march of fifty miles into a wintry wilderness that could defeat them much more effectively than anything Washington could do. He studied the British column again, nearly gone now, thought, No, this is not any plan of attack. He will spread his army east, reinforce Princeton certainly. He has no great artillery park here, no massed wagons. His supplies are somewhere behind him, and he must protect them. He is certainly aware that General Lee is marching down on his flank and rear, and he cannot risk ignoring us in that quarter.

It was as optimistic a thought as he could form about Lee’s position. The letters had still come, more of Lee’s insubordination, couched in the phrases of a man who is growing more and more bold with his own importance. Lee had now proposed that he keep himself completely free of Washington, suggesting that only an incompetent commander must remain close to his superior’s oversight. The letter had done little to endear Lee to the generals around Washington’s camp, and even his admirers were beginning to ask how much more of this kind of arrogance Washington would tolerate. But rather than pull Lee in by the collar, Washington had no choice but to submit. Lee’s position and the army around him were too important for Washington to give in to a dispute about rank and protocol. Lee insisted he should remain near Morristown and maintain a threat to Howe’s outposts. Lee had been matter-of-fact in his belief that Howe was intending to march all the way to Philadelphia, winter or not. Washington had read Lee’s rambling analysis with a quaking anger, but he would still not reveal that to anyone else, no matter what the sentiment in headquarters was toward Lee. He knew that Lee was wrong, could see it now for himself. Howe was not massing an army along the river. He was already drawing back.

As the British column disappeared to the east, he focused on the town, saw more troops in formation, Hessians, filling an open green, a sharp reflection of sunlight from their brass helmets. Behind them, rows of dark low buildings were shrouded in the smoke from their chimneys, and Washington lowered the glasses now, thought, No, they are not going anywhere. They are in winter quarters.

Riders were coming up behind him, and he turned the horse, his escort of guards moving aside. He saw Tilghman, was surprised to see Greene, riding