New York - The Novel

difficulties, the plan Washington hatched was daring. They would strike across the river—in midwinter and at night—and take the Hessians by surprise.
    “We’ll make three crossings,” he explained to James. “One as a diversion, a second to bring reinforcements. But the main body of nearly two and a half thousand men will cross with me, then sweep down on Trenton and hit them before dawn. We’ll outnumber the Hessians, so I think we have a chance. With luck, all three forces can then unite and strike against Princeton too.”
    What a night it had been. They’d assembled on the afternoon of Christmas Day. At dusk, the transports had been brought from their hiding places to the riverbank: large, open ferries for the cannon and horses, high-sided Durham boats for the men. To recognize each other in the darkness, there was a password: “Victory or Death.” The river was narrow, though there were ice floes everywhere. As the darkness deepened, the wind whipped up choppy waves. Then sleet began to fall, then hail.
    Washington took the first boat across to secure the landing. James was at his side. Rather than attempt to sit down in the boat, which was filling with rainwater, they all stood. With the darkness and the storm, James could hardly see his hand in front of his face. All he could hear was the rattle of hailstones and the bumping of ice on the high sides of the Durham.
    “Terrible conditions, Master,” Washington muttered.
    “There’s one good thing, sir,” James said. “The Hessians will never believe we’d cross in such weather.”
    Clambering, sodden, onto the far bank at last, they sent the boat back, and waited for the next batch of men to come over. Though it could not have taken so very long, it felt to James as if their crossing had lasted an eternity. And indeed, although Washington had planned to have his entire force, horses and cannon all across by midnight, it was three in themorning before his daring crossing of the Delaware was completed and the two thousand four hundred men were finally able to form into two columns for their march, through the remainder of the night, down to the little open town of Trenton.
    As they began their march, James could not help reflecting grimly: if he lived through this adventure, and his grandchildren ever asked him what it was like to cross the Delaware with Washington, he’d have in all honesty to answer: “We couldn’t see a thing.”
    The sleet had turned to snow. Riding beside the column, James realized that the bleeding feet of the men without boots were leaving dark little trails of blood in the snow. But on they pressed, with Washington going up and down the line, murmuring words of encouragement in the darkness. It was dawn as they approached the outposts of the encampment at Trenton.
    Memories of battles are often confused. But certain things about that morning’s engagement remained very clearly in James’s mind: Washington leading the attack in person on the outposts; the well-trained Hessians, caught by surprise, falling back in good order, firing as they went. The sight of Trenton in the gray early morning—two wide streets, a scattered collection of timber houses, looking so strangely peaceful, despite the sudden commotion.
    In the excitement of the moment, he hardly noticed the danger as the bullets zipped past him, but he did notice with pride that the Patriots were fighting well. With surprising speed, they had field cannon set up at the head of the main streets, raking the Hessians with grapeshot. A detachment had swiftly cut off the enemy’s retreat on the Princeton road. After a spirited engagement, the main body of Hessians had been trapped in an orchard, and nine hundred men surrendered.
    By mid-morning, it was all over. Learning that his other two commanders had failed to bring their forces across the River Delaware the night before, Washington had wisely gone back to safety across the river by noon the same day.
    But they had defeated the Hessians. They’d taken hundreds of prisoners. In no time, news of Washington’s success had spread all over the Thirteen Colonies, delighting the Congress, and putting heart into every Patriot.

    The following months had been hard, but bearable. James had grown steadily closer to General Washington, and he had come to appreciate not only the external difficulties his leader faced—with supplies, deserters, spies and the problems of yearly enlistment—but also that, behind his