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By Root 1121 0

flexed his fingers, thought, We must be very close. It has been too long. He would not ask the time, knew the daylight would come over them no matter how fast they moved now, that the plan was already set in motion, that God had his hand on anything that would happen now. He saw a thin row of trees lining the road, bending with the wind, leaning forward toward Trenton, pointing the way. The branches were framed by a light gray sky, and his stomach jumped, the first glow of the dawn. He would not look that way, stared ahead instead, tried to see nothing at all, only the darkness, only that which would hide his army. He felt his own breathing, the sharp cold in his chest coming out in a visible fog with each short breath. He could see the road now as well, stretching out in front of him, the first time he had been able to see the tracks in the ice, the footsteps of the men leading the way. He wanted to say a prayer, thought of those men, the Virginians, the coincidence, men from his own state leading them into whatever lay ahead. What will they see, who will be waiting for them, what kind of preparation will Rall make? Was there a party after all? We have our spies, does Rall have his? They could be waiting for us, just over the next rise, the next patch of woods. Howe might have ordered him to keep ready, cancel any sort of celebration. There can be no Christmas, not in war.

He fought to control the voices in his mind, the doubts streaking through him. He focused on the Virginians moving ahead, and beyond he could see a house, small, barely a shack. There was a flurry of sounds, the wind muting a sudden chatter of muskets. Beside him, Greene gave a quick shout, and a company of troops began to run forward, a slow jog, cracking through the muddy ice. Washington spurred the horse, knew it had to be the first Hessian guard post, their first confrontation, the voices in his mind silent now. He kept moving forward, had to see, heard Greene moving beside him, the troops leading them forward at a quick trot.

He saw the Hessians in the road now, a dozen or more, forming a line, their muskets erupting in one volley. But the Virginians were on them, and the Hessians began to run, darting out of the road, trying to form another line, behind a stone fence, another volley. Washington pushed forward with Greene’s men, the confrontation one-sided, too many Virginians, the Hessians withdrawing again. He watched them with amazement, no panic in those men, retreating in good order, stopping to load and fire, astounding discipline. But his men were too many and pushing too hard, and the Hessians could not hold them, gave way, disappeared over the crest of a hill. His men ran beyond the crest as well, and he followed, reached the top, could see the ground falling away in a long slope. There were more houses, and down the long hill was the town itself, spread out in a beautiful panorama, dark buildings coated with snow, the white streets swept clean by the storm. He stopped the horse, and around him, the main column began to spread out in line, and there was movement in the town, the houses beginning to empty, the streets coming alive. He heard a new sound, muffled, deep and thunderous, then again, a hard thump. He stood high in the stirrups, waited for the sounds again, low thunder, and suddenly there was a bright flash down below in the town, a smashing cascade of fire. He looked out toward the direction of the river, nothing to see, the snow clouding the sky. Greene was close to him now, unable to hide his own excitement.

“I believe, sir, that would be General Sullivan!”

Washington could hear the cannon rumbling in a steady rhythm, and around him, more of Knox’s guns were rolling into place. He moved the horse off to one side, saw two cannon lining up side by side, the wheels nearly touching. With quick precision, the gunners were scrambling around them, and suddenly they both fired, one great roar, smoke and fire blowing through the snow, a storm of their own. Out in the field beside him, Greene had his men in line, muskets ready, those