Posted on 12/25/2007 5:45:00 AM PST by Loud Mime
December 1776 was a desperate time for George Washington and the American Revolution. The ragtag Continental Army was encamped along the Pennsylvania shore of the Delaware River exhausted, demoralized and uncertain of its future.
The troubles had begun the previous August when British and Hessian troops invaded Long Island routing the colonial forces, forcing a desperate escape to the island of Manhattan. The British followed up their victory with an attack on Manhattan that compelled the Americans to again retreat, this time across the Hudson River to New Jersey.
The British followed in hot pursuit, chasing the Americans through New Jersey and by December had forced the Continental Army to abandon the state and cross the Delaware into Pennsylvania. With New Jersey in their firm control and Rhode Island successfully occupied, the British were confident that the Revolution had been crushed. The Continental Army appeared to be merely an annoyance soon to be swatted into oblivion like a bothersome bee at a picnic.
To compound Washington's problems, the enlistments of the majority of the militias under his command were due to expire at the end of the month and the troops return to their homes. Washington had to do something and quickly.
His decision was to attack the British. The target was the Hessian-held town of Trenton just across the Delaware River.
During the night of December 25, Washington led his troops across the ice-swollen Delaware about 9 miles north of Trenton. The weather was horrendous and the river treacherous. Raging winds combined with snow, sleet and rain to produce almost impossible conditions. To add to the difficulties, a significant number of Washington's force marched through the snow without shoes.
The next morning they attacked to the south, taking the Hessian garrison by surprise and over-running the town. After fierce fighting, and the loss of their commander, the Hessians surrendered.
Washington's victory was complete but his situation precarious. The violent weather continued - making a strike towards Princeton problematic. Washington and his commanding officers decided to retrace their steps across the Delaware taking their Hessian prisoners with them.
The news of the American victory spread rapidly through the colonies reinvigorating the failing spirit of the Revolution. The battle's outcome also gave Washington and his officers the confidence to mount another campaign. On December 30 they again crossed the Delaware, attacked and won another victory at Trenton on January 2, and then pushed on to Princeton defeating the British there on January 3.
Although not apparent at the time, these battles were a decisive turning point in the Revolution. The victories pulled the languishing Revolution out of the depths of despair, galvanized colonial support, shocked the British and convinced potential allies such as France, Holland and Spain, that the Continental Army was a force to be reckoned with.
"For God's sake, keep by your officers!"
Elisha Bostwick was a soldier in the Continental Army who took part in the battle and published his memoirs shortly after. We join his story as Washington (whom he refers to as "his Excellency") and his force begin to cross the Delaware:
"[Our] army passed through Bethleham and Moravian town and so on to the Delaware which we crossed 9 miles north of Trenton and encamped on the Pennsylvania side and there remained to the 24th December. [O]ur whole army was then set on motion and toward evening began to re-cross the Delaware but by obstructions of ice in the river did not all get across till quite late in the evening, and all the time a constant fall of snow with some rain, and finally our march began with the torches of our field pieces stuck in the, exhalters. [They] sparkled and blazed in the storm all night and about day light a halt was made at which time his Excellency and aids came near to the front on the side of the path where soldiers stood.
I heard his Excellency as he was coming on speaking to and encouraging the soldiers. The words he spoke as he passed by where I stood and in my hearing were these:
'Soldiers, keep by your officers. For God's sake, keep by your officers!' Spoke in a deep and solemn voice.
While passing a slanting, slippery bank his Excellency's horse's hind feet both slipped from under him, and he seized his horse's mane and the horse recovered.
Our horses were then unharnessed and the artillery men prepared. We marched on and it was not long before we heard the out sentries of the enemy both on the road we were in and the eastern road, and their out guards retreated firing, and our army, then with a quick step pushing on upon both roads, at the same time entered the town. Their artillery taken, they resigned with little opposition, about nine hundred, all Hessians, with 4 brass field pieces; the remainder crossing the bridge at the lower end of the town escaped....
Marched the next day with our prisoners back to an encampment. I here make a few remarks as to the personal appearance of the Hessians. They are of a moderate stature, rather broad shoulders, their limbs not of equal proportion, light complexion with a bluish tinge, hair cued as tight to head as possible, sticking straight back like the handle of an iron skillet. Their uniform blue with black facings, brass drums which made a tinkling sound, their flag or standard of the richest black silk and the devices upon it and the lettering in gold leaf....
When crossing the Delaware with the prisoners in flat bottom boats the ice continually stuck to the boats, driving them down stream; the boatmen endeavoring to clear off the ice pounded the boat, and stamping with their feet, beckoned to the prisoners to do the same, and they all set to jumping at once with their cues flying up and down, soon shook off the ice from the boats, and the next day recrossed the Delaware again and returned back to Trenton, and there on the first of January 1777 our years service expired, and then by the pressing solicitation of his Excellency a part of those whose time was out consented on a ten dollar bounty to stay six weeks longer, and although desirous as others to return home, I engaged to stay that time and made every exertion in my power to make as many of the soldiers stay with me as I could, and quite a number did engage with me who otherwise would have went home. "
References: Bostwick's account appears in Commager, Henry Steele and Robert B. Morris, The Spirit of 'Seventy Six (1958); Fischer, David Hackett, Washington's Crossing (2004).
----------------
more links:
Washington's Order Against Profanity
The General is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing, a vice hitherto little known in our American Army is growing into fashion. He hopes that the officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it and that both they and the men will reflect that we can little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our army if we insult it by our impiety and folly. Added to this it is a vice so mean and low without any temptation that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.
(Signed,) George Washington
There were some inaccuracies in the painting at the head of this thread. National Public Radio, with a keen eye for accuracy in any non-liberal event, offers its opinion.
lib/dems like the piaps and b. hussein would have protested stating the colonists should have negotiated and had a conversation with the hessians...
john edwards after a haircut would have just sold out the colonists!!!!
ping
BTW ... NPR can bemoan the fact that the flag wasn't correct, the boats weren't correct, the ice wasn't smooth, "His Excellency" wouldn't have been standing, and it would have been dark. But what the NPR can't do is remove the painting from the American mind, our history, or it's place of honor.
ping
There was no belief of "victimhood" and its pandering lawyers during those times. These were people who took action and bet their lives on what turned out to be one of the greatest accomplishments of all history.
ping
agree 100%....a sad reflection of how far the new potential leaders of the USA have sunk!!!
Washington’s crossing was an incredible act. If the painting were accurate it would be a black canvas in a room that was below zero. Npr missed that.
Last August I was listining to NPR at a (liberal) friend’s house. When I questioned the report’s deliberate ignoring of essential data I was asked where I got my information. My reply was immediate, “you mean my knowledge?”
NPR listeners think they’re smart. I always dig at that open wound.
"These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated."
With these words in their ears, the remnants of Washington's army marched out to victory in the snow of Christmas Day. This is why John Adams is reported to have said, "Without the pen of Paine, the sword of Washington would have been wielded in vain."
Congressman Billybob
I’ve missed that! I’ll have to find it. Thanks!
WHAT A PICTURE! GREAT!
I wasn’t sure if I should get the audio book of Washington’s Crossing, or 1776. I opted for 1776 because I already have the book, and I could keep up with the CDs.
Merry Christmas!
‘The Crossing’ is indeed very good. It’s available on DVD. I think I’ll watch it today, thanks to this thread.
Apocryphal story of Christmas ingenuity -
An American commander supposedly came to General Washington saying that he was low on ammunition. Washington replied, “Well, you have fruitcakes don’t you?!” At which point the commander loaded the cannons, and possibly even muskets, with pieces of fruitcake, even inflicting a few casualties on British soldiers.
Merry Christmas, and pass the fruitcake.
I’m going to the reeneactment, which is in less than three hours. I will be on the Titusville/Hopewell side.
Pictures?
The only reenactments we have here are in the courtrooms and the grafitti.
Now, see, Washington and Co. coulda used some global warming to make that little boat ride more convenient. Which goes to show global warming is not necessarily a bad thing. OTOH, if it had been a nice balmy day, say sunny and 75 degrees, the Hessians mighta been out playing frisbee and wouldn’t be taken by surprise.
Merry Christmas! Birth of a nation BUMP!
In fact, the Hessians who surrendered were never repatriated, they melted into the Pennsylvania Dutch (Deutsch) population on 50 acres of land and farms promised by congress they never would have been able to obtain had they survived their indenture and returned to Germany.
Excellent way to spend Christmas Day! I am on my way do Virginia to make a turducken with the family...all the best!
Valley Forge was Washington’s property. He put the army up all winter on his own dime. Congress sent him some rags now and then.
For many years when I was a little kid, a copy of that painting hung above my bed.
I live about ten minutes from Washington Crossing and every time I drive through the place I get chills up my spine. We often go up there this time of year to watch the re-enactment.
Perhaps this hymn written in 1719 by Isaac Watts was in the mind of General Washington and some of his men when they crossed the treacherous Delaware River. I like to think so.
Our God, our help in ages past
Our hope for years to come
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home
Beneath the shadow of Thy throne
Still may we dwell secure
Sufficient is Thy arm alone
And our defense is sure
Our God, our help in ages past
Our hope for years to come
Be Thou our guard while life shall last,
And our eternal home
Amen
Leni
Bad weather favors that attacker, as those in home base are warming by the fire or covering themselves from the elements.
One thing going wrong would have changed the course of this history.
That's what Dingy Harry and Nancy Pelousy would send if they had the opportunity.
Leni
Interesting criticisms about the painting, except for the part about the ice being smoothed over. That’s horse manure. I’ve seen “ice” on the Delaware before, and although it is not the clearer (as in ice cubes) variety shown in the painting, it is certainly not smoothed over. In fact, it’s usually more of a frozen snow (massive white, floating piles of jagged snow floes and chunks of frozen snow) than ice. That’s why it would stick to the boats.
That is now printed and headed for church!
Thank you!
There are a few more verses.....all emphasizing that a mighty fortress is our God, a trusty shield and weapon.
Merry Christmas and the blessings of the New Year to you and yours.
Leni
I Laughed out loud when I read your remark. Then paused and thought about it. There’s nothing funny about what they’ve been doing. Damn them.
I felt this subject was appropriate for today instead of the Founder’s quotes. I’m glad all of you like it.
Wow. New ‘old’ terms for people like John Kerry, Colonel Kerr, and Hillary.
“The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot”
If not for them, who would have faced the Hessians of the future? Ironic that the British ended up needing the U.S. to help them fight the Hessians much later.
It is my understanding that about 40% of the German soldiers stayed in America. Some were recruited to fight on the American side. My source for the recruitment statement is Baroness Riedesel’s journal who tell that there was an active recruitment of the German troops that surrendered at Saratoga when they were being marched to Boston to join the Americans.
Congressman Billybob
Washington was pressed to action. He must snatch light out of darkness, like a fire-bringer. It was a desolate job. All life must have seemed desolate to him as he pondered over his maps and plans in his chilly headquarters and looked out on the desolate river with its floating ice cakes, the desolate hills, and his desolate men, crowded into desolate tents and gnawing on hunks of frozen soup. But he had to do something. The terms of militia enlistments would run out on New Year’s Day, and the soldiers would run out with them. Now it was late in December. He had only a few days of grace.
He chose Christmas night for the attack on Trenton. He knew that for a good Hessian, Christmas is the day of orgies. He could count on finding a drunk, groggy garrison. Late Christmas afternoon the troops began to move. They trampled down to the riverbank, their bare feet swathed in gunnysacks, and waited in the shivering silence for the early fall of darkness. The big artillery horses snorted and blew white steam and thudded the icy ground with their hoofs, prancing and rearing. Colonel Henry Knox’s booming voice thickened the air. He roared orders at the men who were putting those great stallions on barges that were to carry them across the ice-clogged river.
The men stood about, awaiting their turns to go, beating their arms like Alaska miners, and looking down at the stains of blood their cracked feet had left in the snow. Washington rushed about, with a very red nose, barking at officers. One private laughed good-naturedly at his general and made a mental note that he was to put into writing years later, concerning that nose which was so “apt to turn scarlet in the wind...he was not what ladies would all a pretty man.”
Finally they got underway. The boats were overcrowded. It is pitch dark. The oars clutch desperately at the water between the ice cakes that bump heavily against the boats and send up a numbing splash. Nobody can see what lies ahead. The oarsmen steer by the lights on the shore. The ice cakes collide and crack and drench the men with spray. Now and again someone curses loudly in the blackness. “S-s-sh!” from an officer. The oar locks creak and whine. Snow fills the air and stings the faces of men.
Hunched over, very grim, Washington sits in the bow. In the rear seat is Henry Knox, extremely fat and broad of stern, perched a bit to one side. Washington peers at him through the gloom and driving snow, and shouts, “Shift your ass, Knox, and trim the boat!” The wedged-in load of men bursts into a muffled roar of laughter. It is the only laugh of that dark journey.
Finally they land. Washington sits on an empty beehive and waits for the rest of the army to come over. After midnight, with his forces gathered together, he sends General Sullivan along the river, while he and Green take their divisions along the inland road that will bring them to the head of Trenton’s main street.
Trenton is a lazy little village sleeping on a hillside and running back from the river in rows of snow covered houses. Tonight the windows of these houses are yellow with soft light that streams out into the snowy streets. From within comes snatches of old German lieder, bellowed by men who are quaffing Jersey applejack and sending off fumes of praise unto the Lord for this happy night, the birthday of the Prince of Peace. In the little rooms are Christmas trees lighted with candles and hung with glistening ornaments – the first time they have ever been seen in America.
In the narrow streets little groups of drunken Hessians go singing on their unsteady way through the snow, arms locked and voices high. They stop under the bright windows and cry out, in their guttural native tongue, “Noch einmal!”, through the streets. “Noch einmal!” Another drink! Glory be to God! “Noch einmal!”
Perhaps one falls down, sprawling in the snow, too drunk to move. The others roar with laughter, pick him up and drag him along, feet dangling, on their merry way.
Somewhere out among the hills Washington’s army is marching rapidly toward Trenton.
Colonel Rall, the commandant of the garrison, is down at the house of Abraham Hunt. The colonel is playing cards and finishing one mug of applejack after another. He is getting very soused. His voice is think, he can hardly see, but he is as happy as a boy. A messenger comes in with a note for the colonel. The colonel frowns at it, bleary-eyed, sees that is in English (which he cannot read), and mutters the Hessian equivalent for, “What the hell! Who cares!”
He jams the note into the pocket of his blue uniform and takes another drink. He does not know that it contains information of Washington’s approach. The happy colonel drinks on. Late in the night, his aides, who are also drunk, escort him merrily back to headquarters and dump him into bed.
At seven in the morning he is roused from his drunken stupor by the booming of cannon and wild cries in the street of “Der Feind! Der Feind!” He lurches to the window and leans out, calling in thick, sleepy tones, “Was ist’s? Was ist los?”
Soon he sees, blinking his bloodshot eyes. His men, half dressed, are running here and there. They are trying to saddle horses. They are trying to wheel the big guns into position. They are yelling and cursing. From up the hill young Alexander Hamilton’s artillery rakes the icy street with balls. The American light infantry, with bayonets fixed, combs into the midst of the confused Hessians. The Hessians try to resist the awful onslaught of men and bullets, but they only slide and skid in the wet snow. Their heads are still woozy from last night’s applejack; their feet go out from under them; they fall down with an awful impact and their guns go flying. The bullets sing around them as the Americans come roaring down the street. Now and again a cannon ball plows into a house, and the icicles that hang from the gutters crackle down in a crystal shower.
Suddenly a wild eyed man appears in the doorway of the Hessian headquarters. He is still buttoning his coat and strapping on his sword belt, and his legs are very unsteady. It is Colonel Rall. He rushes into the street. The bullets are as thick as the flying snowflakes, but Rall is lion-hearted. He climbs dizzily into the saddle and spurs into the midst of his retreating men, waving his broadsword. He tries to give orders, but his tongue is so thick that nobody understands him.
”Vorwãrts!” he yells. “Vorwãrts!”
His men throw him quick glances of panicky refusal and swirl away before the rushing American vanguard. They fall in the snow and cough blood. They moan and twist and die, spending their last breath in praises of their beloved price, and wondering why they ever left the lovely principality of Hesse to die so grimly under bleak skies in a bleak village on the shores of a bleak river, three thousand miles from home, on the day after Christmas.
Rall gallops through his disorganized mob of soldiers, bleeding from a bullet wound in the hip. On he goes, waving his sword and shouting, getting weaker every moment and quivering in every nerve.
”Vorwãrts! Vorwãrts!” His voice is a thick croak.
Another bullet clips him. His men are scattering hopelessly. Some are nuddled between the houses, tying handkerchiefs to their bayonets, holding them up in trembling surrender. Colonel Rall tears on, bleeding, ghost white in the face.
”Vorwãrts! Vorwãrts!” It is a tragic plea. But his men ignore it.
A third bullet plows into his stomach, He crumples up and falls from his horse into the slushy snow. His men pick him up and carry him into a church. They lay him out on a hard pew and undress him. From his pocket falls the note he jammed in there last night when he was drunk. An aide picks it up and reads it to him. Rall moans, heavy with remorse and humiliation, “Lieb’ Gott! If I’d only read that at Herr Hunt’s, I’d not be here!”
From without comes the roar of the last stages of battle. Rall, as he lays dying, hears the heavy running of the feet of men and orders shouted in husky excited voices. Then the firing dies down. He hears English – English commands – amid the fainter babbling of his native German. He knows now that his men have surrendered, and he feels himself slowly going. Grief and remorse sweep over his confused mind. The men of his proud army – those who are not dead – are prisoners of war.
And he holds himself alone to blame, as life ebbs away. He had been too drunk to heed the sentry note; he had been too heavy-headed to wake in the morning.
Washington and Green come to the church to speak to him. He looks up sadly. So this pock-marked, red-nosed man is the Washington he has hated so and whose head he has ached to carry back across the seas. He knows that he might have done it, too – and chagrin chokes in his throat – if it had not been for the fumes of “Jersey lightning” in his brain.
Limply he shakes the tall rebel general’s cold hand. He begs him to be kind to his men who are prisoners; they are such good men. Washington bows his assent and his farewell. For hours the gallant Colonel Rall lies on his hard pew in that damp, chilly church, trying to still his tortured thoughts and waiting patiently for life to leave him.
--from Revolution 1776, by John Hyde Preston (1933).
Pics and news of the reenactment here:
http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2007/12/rough_current_halts_reenactmen.html
Patriotic Merry Christmas bump!
That’s great! How was it? (See news article above.)
We were far kinder to their prisoners then they were to ours.
I agree. It was excellent except that the producers had Washington cursing, which he was famous for NOT doing.
This year, we had sunny weather, but, due to a lot of rain and sleet earlier, the currents in the Delaware were too strong for them to make a full crossing this year. :-(
Hope you enjoyed it anyway! I thought that one guy made a handsome George Washington. I hope he gets a chance to try the crossing again next year.
As we have been in every war. This is the greatest country on earth.
Washington has limited options and needed to strike at the best opportunity for success. He had few options and time was running out. His effort reminds me of what the Germans tried in the Ardennes, but for some reason the US won both times.
Thanks again for your time! Merry Christmas!
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.