Washington [188]
As the long column finally got under way in New Jersey, the road winding through the woods was steep and treacherous, slippery to man and beast alike. The slanting snow, sleet, and hail drove straight into the faces of men plunging forward in nearly total darkness. At least two exhausted soldiers tumbled into roadside snowdrifts and froze to death. At a place called Jacob’s Creek, the soldiers had to execute the risky maneuver of rolling artillery across a deep chasm. On horseback, Washington was directing their movements when the hind legs of his horse buckled and began to skid down the ice-covered slope. His men then saw the greatest horseman of his age perform an equestrian tour de force. Twining his fingers through the horse’s mane, Washington yanked its large head upright with all his might. At the same time, he rocked and shifted his weight backward in his saddle until the horse regained its equilibrium. The amazing feat happened in the blink of an eye, then the artillery movement continued.
It proved an agonizing ride for Washington. His army was only halfway to Trenton when the first sunlight wanly colored the sky at six A.M. One soldier remembered Washington speaking “in a deep and solemn voice,” cautioning his men, “Soldiers, keep by your officers. For God’s sake, keep by your officers.”23 Taking food and drink on horseback in the thin dawn light, Washington held an impromptu conference with his generals and they decided to proceed with their original plan, splitting the column and heading on to Trenton by both high and low roads. With his congenital penchant for punctuality, Washington pulled out his timepiece and asked the generals to set their watches by it. Taking the upper Pennington Road with Greene, Washington chose the more arduous route. As the parallel detachments plodded on through a new wave of sleet and swirling snow, a messenger from Sullivan informed Washington that his men’s sodden weapons were now useless. “Tell the general to use the bayonet,” Washington said.24 He then galloped along the lines, trying to speed the march’s tempo in the brightening morning light. “Press on,” he urged the men. “Press on, boys!”25
At around seven-thirty A.M., the operation was nearly derailed by a preposterous blunder committed by an old Washington colleague. General Adam Stephen had fought with Washington in Braddock’s campaign and vied with him for a seat in the House of Burgesses. The day before the Delaware crossing, he had dispatched a company of Virginians to scout enemy positions in Trenton. Now, as he neared the town, Washington was shocked to meet these fifty Virginians and learn that they had exchanged fire with Hessian sentries, raising the appalling specter that the Hessians had been alerted to the Continental Army’s advent. Under questioning, Captain George Wallis told Washington they had acted under instructions from Stephen. Washington summarily hauled the latter into his presence. “You, sir!” Washington scolded him. “You, sir, may have ruined all my plans by having put them on their guard.”26 Those present were amazed by the vivid show of temper, but Washington soon regained his self-mastery and told the Virginians to fall in with his column.
The mythology of the Battle of Trenton portrays the Hessian mercenaries as slumbering in a drunken stupor after imbibing late-night Christmas cheer. In fact, Colonel Johann Gottlieb Rall had kept his men on high alert, and they felt frazzled and exhausted from constant drills and patrols. Quite shrewdly, Washington had worn them down by irregular raids and small skirmishes in the surrounding countryside. If the Hessians were caught off guard that morning, it was only because they thought the forbidding weather would preclude an attack. These tough, brawny hirelings, with a reputation for ferocity, inspired healthy fear among the Americans. But handicapped by their patronizing view of the Americans, they couldn’t conceive of something of quite the scale and daring that