The General's Christmas (6 page)

Now on the east side of the
river, Greene’s men pulled on the horses' reins as they dragged the
heavy artillery uphill. The ruts were so deep and slippery that the
animals faltered and nearly fell. It was easier to make a path
along the side of the road where the ground was frozen and covered
in snow.

The road to Bear Tavern was a sloping hill,
leading upward away from the river, and directly into the path of
the storm. Because the roads were slippery, several men fell and
had to be helped to their feet. Horses slid over the slick ice,
skidding backwards until they found their footing.

“Watch that wheel!” shouted
Greene as one of the cannon’s wheels sank into a snowdrift. The
horses strained at their harnesses to pull the carriage free, but
it was stuck.

“Get shovels and dig!” Henry
Knox ordered, “Throw some dirt under the wheel and slide a board
under the front of it! You two men get the ropes and tie them to
the carriage. Find a tree or rock that you can wind the rope around
and get some men to pull!”

The marching column came to
a halt as the nearest group of men set to digging out the wheel
while others tied thick ropes to the front of the artillery
carriage. Even the small carriages held nearly two tons of heavy
cannon and ammunition. Pulling them out of deep snow would be no
easy task even under the best conditions.

While dealing with the
immobile cannon, the company stopped again. One of the soldiers who
had gotten wet on the river looked down at his clothing. His pants
were frozen into stiff boards with thick clumps of snow stuck to
his ankles. He felt as if he were dragging cannon balls on chains.
Feeling exhausted from the long march and the bone chilling cold,
the soldier sat down upon a rock and closed his eyes. In the
darkness and cold he drifted into sleep immediately.

Ten minutes later, the company began the
uphill move again. Someone gave the sleeping soldier a shake and
told him to get up.

“Come on, William! It’s time to march!”

William didn’t move. His friend shook him
again.

“William!”

William’s body tilted like a felled tree and
toppled into the snow, molded in a sitting position.

Others came to help, but one declared, “He’s
dead! Frozen solid!”

There was nothing they could do for William.
They rejoined the marching regiment and left William’s body where
it lay. Others who passed by realized that William’s fate would be
their own if they stopped moving.

Later, a supply wagon stopped and two
soldiers lifted William’s frozen body onto the back of it. There
was no time to mourn. He would be buried later with the others who
never made it back alive.

The wind tore at them as
they marched on through the darkness, with snow driving so hard
that they could only follow the men in front of them.

At the front of the column,
Washington and Greene rode with two local men carrying lanterns.
The road was no longer visible in the deep snow, and only the local
men knew the way.

“How much farther to Bear Tavern?” shouted
Greene to one of the local men.

“Not far! Another ten minutes! Maybe
fifteen!”

Another blast of ice crystals assailed them.
Instinctively, the horses pulled back but they were forced onward.
Keeping their heads down, the army forged ahead in the wailing
wind.

Washington turned in his saddle and looked
back at the men marching behind him. What must they be thinking? He
wondered. Did they follow him blindly through this snowstorm and
bitter cold in the middle of the night because they believed in the
cause of freedom or because they were afraid not to? He dared not
think about what their motives might be. He only prayed that they
would stay the course and fight the enemy. He feared that many
would not have strength left to fight after another ten miles of
marching through this storm. Had he made the right decision to
attack Trenton? Or would this be another failure in a growing list
of defeats? These questions plagued him like restless spirits of
the dead. He remembered the two young girls who had come into the
camp, one half dead. At all costs, they must stop the wanton abuse
of citizens and their land by these Hessians.

The land was as important as the people who
lived on it. Owning land was the one thing that gave men both
security and purpose. Land meant prosperity, crops for food, timber
for houses and fuel, ore for iron, and water. Whoever possessed the
land would be the victor, and whoever did not would be powerless.
He hoped these were the reasons that his men followed him through a
snow and bitter cold in the middle of the night on this
Christmas.

General Washington pulled up the reins of his
horse and stood aside as the column straggled on before him. He
lowered his head and closed his eyes to pray.

"Dear God, am I a
thoughtless fool to bring these men here tonight? If I am, please
do not let them suffer because of my own imprudence and arrogant
pride. But our forefathers came to this country to escape
persecution. They suffered starvation, wars, and plagues to create
a homeland for their progeny. Are we to give up everything they
sacrificed for? To do so would make their sacrifices meaningless.
If we are meant to save this country from persecution and tyranny,
and if we are meant to be free, then let our efforts and your mercy
grant us a victory today. Amen."

“There ‘tis!” shouted one of the local men,
holding up his lantern, “Bear Tavern!”

Chapter 7

While Washington and his
forces were marching through relentless wind and sleet to their
ferry crossings, General Horatio Gates, commander of the
Continental forces in New York, had arrived in Baltimore on
Christmas Eve. Upon his arrival in Baltimore, Gates contacted his
friends in Congress, Benjamin Harrison and Thomas
Jefferson.

"We're having Christmas dinner here, General,
and you simply must come and dine with us!" Harrison's wife
twittered.

"I shall be delighted, for I have much to
discuss with Benjamin," Gates replied.

Christmas Day was cold and windy but the
storm had not yet struck the city of Baltimore. General Gates rode
his horse to the three-story brick home in an upscale area of
Baltimore, where Congress had fled to escape the British occupation
of Philadelphia.

Gates, in full uniform, was
greeted at the door by a butler. The elegant home was festively
decorated with holly and ivy for Christmas. A sprig of mistletoe
hung over the entrance to the main parlor. The dining room table
was set with the best china and sparkling glassware. Candles and
shining silverware generously graced the table, ready for the
guests to dine. Several people mingled before the fireplace in the
parlor as Gates searched for a familiar face.

Gates made a beeline for
Thomas Jefferson, who was surrounded by admirers.

"Mr. Jefferson," Gates greeted with a
bow.

"Ah, General Gates! What a
surprise! I would have expected you to be in Saratoga, still
basking in admiration for your recent victory there!"

Gates smiled at the accolades Jefferson
bestowed upon him.

"A good general trains his
officers to do their duty in his presence or his absence. I'm sure
General Benedict Arnold can carry on quite competently."

"Of course, he was most courageous on the
battlefield there. You must tell us all about the battle at
Saratoga after dinner," Jefferson urged.

"I'd be happy to. But if I
may have a moment of your time, sir, I have something of importance
to discuss," Gates said.

"Of course, of course!
Perhaps after dinner, that is now ready."

Gates bowed politely but
wished he could discuss his business now. Instead, he followed the
guests into the dining room. Each elegantly dressed woman and
gentleman was seated, and then the servants brought out platters of
turkey, ham, and cooked vegetables. Their aromas mingled into
delicious mouth-watering temptations. There was enough food on the
table to feed a regiment, Gates noted. He couldn't but help notice
the contrast between the meal before him and the lack of food his
army faced, half-starved and hungry most of the time. They were
lucky to have one scrap of meat in a week. Looking at this generous
and ostentatious fare on the table, he couldn't understand why
Congress always argued endlessly whenever the army begged for food
and supplies.

Dinner conversation was polite and cordial.
The women all discussed the Christmas balls being held at various
places in the city. It seemed that no one here knew that a war was
being fought, Gates thought. Their social lives had not skipped a
beat as men marched from one battle field to another without rest
or sustenance. To these people, the war was nothing more than a
topic of discussion, an amusement to give them something to gossip
about. He sighed with impatience as he waited for the end of
dessert when the men would announce their adjournment to the
study.

The study was a large room lined to the
ceiling with bookshelves. A roaring fire burned brightly in the
huge fireplace, and the men took their seats in comfortable chairs.
They passed the tobacco and filled their pipes as servants filled
glasses with brandy. Life in high society lacked for nothing, even
during wartime.

Jefferson looked around at his friends and
bowed, "If you will please excuse me, I believe the general would
like to briefly discuss business."

"Forgive me, sir, but my
time in Baltimore is very limited and I must make the best use of
it," he apologized to his two friends.

Jefferson nodded, "I understand."

The three men retired to a
small sitting room with a warm fire. Benjamin Harrison turned to
Gates and asked,

"What's this about, Horatio?"

Gates stroked his chin and paused in deep
thought before speaking.

"I am speaking to you only because I feel it
is my duty as one of the foremost leaders in the Continental Army,
and my duty as a patriot to tell you that I believe we will only
win this war if we make some changes."

Harrison asked, "What kind of changes?"

"You know about Washington's
defeats at New York, at White Plains, and his retreat down into New
Jersey. I'm afraid his constant lack of success is seriously
compromising the morale of the men. Many enlistments will expire at
the end of this month, and under the circumstances, I believe most
of them will leave. Washington has not been successful in any
battles because of his strategy. He makes a weak attempt to attack,
and then calls his men to retreat. He has been unwilling to
confront the enemy in a face-to-face battle. We cannot win a war
this way."

Jefferson stood up and leaned upon the hearth
mantle, asking,

"What do you suggest?"

Gates looked at both men and said, "I've been
giving the matter serious consideration. I feel the best strategy
would be to send Washington south, to Savannah, and let him lead
the force there to contain the enemy in Charleston. I would take
his place in Pennsylvania with my army and his, and plan a full
attack on the enemy to drive them out of Philadelphia."

Harrison and Jefferson
looked at one another, each searching for a clue as to his
thoughts.

"You want us to remove General Washington
from his command?"

Gates cleared his throat
nervously, "Now, don't misunderstand me, sirs, I have nothing
personal against the man. But I cannot stand aside and watch him
lead us to ruin. What this army needs is a commander who is not
afraid to make decisions and act upon them. I think I have proven
myself that kind of man by my recent victory in Saratoga. Can you
name one victory that Washington has had since he became Commander
in Chief? You can't consider Boston a victory because no shot was
ever fired; the enemy just evacuated the city when a hurricane and
Washington's cannon on the ridge of Dorchester Heights convinced
General Howe to retreat to Halifax."

Jefferson and Harrison both stood fidgeting,
reluctant to reply. Finally Jefferson spoke quietly.

"We don't doubt your ability
to lead men, General Gates, which is why we approved Washington's
request to promote you to General Adjutant. Your force is much
larger than Washington's at the present time. And making such a
change as you propose would require the involvement of all the
Congress, not just us two."

"I understand completely,
sir," Gates acquiesced, "I am merely putting the idea forth for
your consideration. My hope is that you will bring my suggestion
before Congress when they next meet in January, and allow me to
speak to them about my plan and the advantages of appointing me
Commander in Chief."

Jefferson stood with his
arms crossed, studying Horatio Gates. He couldn't help but wonder
if Gates' was really interested in advancing the American cause, or
only in advancing his own career.

"We shall be happy to convey what you have
told us to the other members of Congress when we next convene,
General."

Gates smiled with satisfaction and gave a
slight bow.

"My humble gratitude is all I can offer," he
replied.

Chapter 8

"There's the road to
Trenton!" one of the Jersey men shouted over the wind. In the dark
and blowing snow it was difficult to make out any sort of a road,
but when Washington considered the direction it led, he nodded in
agreement.

The army turned south,
walking away from Bear Tavern and away from the biting northeastern
wind that had assaulted them since they left camp. Now it was at
their backs and they were no longer walking uphill. This road was
flatter, but the snow was deeper. They waded through drifts as high
as their knees while trying to keep their muskets and powder
dry.