Being George Washington by Glenn Beck Read Free Book Online Page B

had shot up their town and hightailed it back upon the Bear Tavern Road, Colonel Rall and his men had made the only reasonable conclusion that they could: the rebel attack, such that it was, had been easily turned away. What wretched soldiers these fools were! Rall thought. It was hardly an attack even worthy of his attention.
    And so Rall and his lieutenant Wiederholdt let down their guard and got back to the important task of recovering from the holiday festivities of the previous night.
    “Gentlemen, your watches, please,” Washington commanded General Greene and General John Sullivan, who would lead separate wings of the attack. “We will synchronize them all so that we will all strike at once.”
    “This damnable snow,” Sullivan whined, “causes our gunpowder to grow wetter by the minute. We won’t be able to fire a shot upon the enemy!”
    “Then use your bayonets!” Washington retorted.
    By some small miracle, all segments of the army that had reached Trenton were advancing at once.
    Inside Trenton’s barrel maker’s shop, Lieutenant Wiederholdt huddled with his seventeen men. No use keeping them outside on such a morning—especially not with the Americans on the run, their patheticattack having been easily turned away. It was stuffy, though, with so many men cooped up within the small space. He stepped outside and thought he saw some men advancing toward him. Probably Captain Brubach’s detachment. But then there were more of them—and then still more.
    “Der feind! Heraus!”
Wiederholdt exclaimed—“The enemy! Turn out!”
    The fight, Wiederholdt knew in that moment, was far from over. It was just beginning.
    Colonel Rall, still in his nightclothes, stood dumbly at his window. All Hades was exploding round him. Washington’s units advancing. Knox’s batteries bombarding the town. Yet Rall, having spent a very late evening playing chess and drinking brandy, barely understood what was happening.
    His adjutant, Lieutenant Jakob Piel, burst into the room.
    “What is happening?” Rall demanded. The reality of his situation was now sinking all too painfully into his sleepy Hessian brain.
    “Do you not hear the firing, Colonel?”
    Rall threw on his uniform, dashed into the street, and mounted his horse, ready for battle.
    Gunfire erupted from all sides. The Hessians should have remained inside their stations, picking off Greene’s and Sullivan’s columns as they advanced. Instead they rushed out to counterattack, making themselves easy targets for American fire—and turning their own gunpowder into sodden mush so that it might not fire. Their regimental band, Colonel Rall’s great pride and joy, took up its accustomed station, blaring out its traditional Teutonic martial music, but this time it made it even harder for his men to comprehend their own officers’ commands.
    It was complete chaos.
    But these Hessians would not be taken easily. They rolled out two cannon onto King Street, ready to cut the Americans to ribbons. Undeterred, the rebels rushed forward and captured the two cannon before they could be used.
    Rall, however, rallied his men, spurring them into capturing the cannon back. As this seesaw battle continued, George Washington’s secondcousin, Captain William Washington, along with Lieutenant James Monroe led a charge to once again seize the Hessian cannon. Musket fire hit Captain Washington in the wrist and Monroe in the chest, severing an artery. He crumpled, his blood spurting out onto the ground, melting the snow and forming a wide, dark red pool round his body. A surgeon struggled to clamp Monroe’s wound and save his life.
    Colonel Rall saw his men fleeing the village. The sight enraged him. They would not be driven from Trenton by this
Amerikanischen
rabble! Atop his horse in a nearby orchard, he once again rallied his men, ordering them back into battle. They would once again recapture those cannon that Captain Washington and Lieutenant Monroe had seized. “My brave