To Try Men's Souls - George Washington 1 by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich, Albert S. Hanser Read Free Book Online

flogged for their failure to keep proper watch.
    And so Washington and his rabble had escaped, and would escape again and again as summer ended and autumn settled on the land. And finally, in the last weeks of this year, they had fled across Jersey.
    His men had been in the vanguard of that pursuit. Countless times he had begged for release, for one day, just one day, to be slipped free of the leash and lead his men forward relentlessly to finish this war so they could go home. Just one forced march by night to the flank and into the enemy rear before dawn, as he had so often done in Bohemia, Silesia, and on the Turkish border. One night of movement free of ponderous restraints. Or just one day of hot pursuit with bayonets leveled. But always the order was given by Howe to bring his men to rest.
    If there was a kindred spirit in the British command it was their Lord Cornwallis. He, too, had bridled at the slow movements, the chances lost, as Washington and his rebellious scum, like oily serpents, escaped the traps laid, traps that any German officer would have ensured were indeed traps, and not nets with holes in them.
    “I have my first king, sir,” Potts announced grandly as he double-jumped two of Rall’s black pieces.
    Rall smiled graciously and said nothing. Couldn’t the man see that his opponent was barely paying attention to the game?
    The wind outside rose in pitch, howling under the eaves of the house, counterpointed by a thump, a second thump, and then several more.
    “Jacob, that damn shutter is loose again!” Potts shouted, calling for his servant to go outside.
    Rall sat bolt upright, head cocked slightly.
    Another thump.
    “That was not your shutter, sir,” Rall announced in German, standing up, straight-backed chair falling with a clatter behind him.
    He headed for the door, which was flung open before he could reach it. One of his staff, young Münchasen, rivulets of icy water dripping from his cape, stood in the open doorway, breathing hard.
    “Sir. The rebels, sir.”
    “I know, Münchasen. Where is my horse?”
    Without taking time to put on a cape or overcoat, Rall was out the door. An orderly was leading his horse from the stable behind Potts’s house, saddled and ready. He climbed up, Münchasen gaining his own horse as well.
    Another thump followed by what sounded like a ragged volley of a dozen or more muskets, the sound distant, barely audible against the wind.
    From the northwest, most likely the outpost on the River Road.
    He raced down Queen Street. A drummer was standing outside the stone barracks in the center of town, beating assembly. His was the duty regiment for the garrison this evening, the men ordered to remain in full uniform, cartridge boxes strapped on at all times, muskets on hand even when resting in their bunks, and now they were filing out on the run. Some had overcoats on, many did not. He slowed for a few seconds to watch. These men knew their duty. They began to form up along the street with heads lowered, hats pulled low over their brows, ready for action, complete with musket locks wrapped in oiled cloth to keep them dry.
    No need to stop here. He spurred his mount, turning on to the River Road, and after passing a block of houses and a church was out to the edge of town. Münchasen was struggling to keep up. “
Herr Oberst
. Please slow down. The rebels could be anywhere!”
    Rall ignored him, pressing hard. In the darkness he saw movement. It was the guard company, posted in the center of town andkept under full arms, weapons loaded. They were running hard, struggling with the damnable mud as they advanced. He edged off to the side of the road, splashing through what passed as a drainage ditch and coming up to the head of the column of fifty men.
    At the sight of their colonel in the lead, the men’s pace quickened. Captain Metzger shouted for his command to press forward.
    “That’s it, my children!” Rall shouted. “Quickly now, quickly!”
    The outpost in