CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The silent hike back to McKonkey’s Ferry seemed an out-of-body experience to Mason. He’d spoken, actually spoken, with General George Washington. Two days before, he’d failed a simple tactical exercise and questioned everything he’d carefully constructed about his collegiate career. All of the careful preparation, the intense preparation for exams, and sacrificing summer fun for clerking experience went out the window. No amount of academic pressure ever amounted to knowing that the “father of his country” and its first president expected him to successfully cross a river and establish a patrol base in enemy territory. Doing so with a bunch of cadets like himself seemed impossible.
Except that since they’d left the abandoned farmhouse the previous morning, Mason noticed that all of them, even the chronically late and out of shape Martinez, were…good. They moved silently and communicated with hand and arm signals. There was no question Mason was the squad leader. What made it better was that Stratton and Higgs seemed to have established a rhythm to their duties and responsibilities. They worked together better than Mason thought possible. Their quiet confidence in him, and each other, resonated with Mason. He was determined to be just as good, if not better.
The dark, sleek river appeared around a bend. Mason felt a brush at his shoulder and he turned to see the pale face of Colonel Glover.
“You seem lost in thought,” the older man said. There was a hint of a smile on his face.
Mason knew the look well. His freshman year, clerking during the summer for an appellate court judge in Pennsylvania, he’d seen the same judgment from the grizzled old man’s face. You think I can’t handle this. Mason took a deep breath and summoned as much command presence as he could.
“I’m fine, sir,” Mason said. “Reviewing my orders and making a plan.”
Glover harrumphed. “A full day behind Hessian lines would seem to make you a bit scared. Unsure. A lesser man might run.”
“We’ve been behind that line for two days, sir. And we’re still here.” Mason bit his tongue and realized that Glover baited him. “I have my orders, Colonel. You have yours. If you please, sir, put my squad in at a place where we have more than a slim chance of survival. From there, we’ll handle the rest.”
Glover snorted, but looked at Mason with a glint in his eye. “I have a spot for you. The Hessians patrol the road on the hour. It takes them twenty minutes from their southern post at the Assunpink Bridge to reach the lower ferry. When they turn north, we’ll put you in behind them. You’ll have forty minutes to get into the higher ground. Is that enough?”
“Plenty,” Mason said. The wide Durham boat that had carried the squad across from the Delaware side waited. Unlike their last trip, there were no armed guards. Six oarsmen waited and Colonel Glover stepped inside alongside Mason. “You’re going, too?”
“Aye,” Glover said. “To the point that I’m not even allowing General Ewing’s men to put you in. I take my job seriously, Mason.”
“Senior officers shouldn’t be ferrying men on a dangerous river, sir.” Even as he said it, Mason realized the stark truth that true leadership was more often leadership by example.
“Boy, I’ve been up and down this river twenty times in the last week. Knowing it like the back of my hand is my job.” Glover took a breath. “There’s a set of falls above the lower ferry. With so much riding on these boats tomorrow, I can’t risk my men scuttling one in the river. I’ll be fine. You…you take care of those young men and women.”
“I’m trying, sir,” Mason replied as the boat shoved off from the darkened bank. “Everyone seems to think I can’t do that.”
Glover shook his head. “You’re missing the point, lad. The general wants to believe the tale you tell is true. You told him about the one place on the battlefield where Hessians escape. He wants you to be right. He wants you to plug that hole and complete the envelopment. In order to do that, from this moment until then, you have to ensure your soldiers are ready. That means taking care of them. Ensuring that they have what they need and being prepared for action at a moment’s notice.”
Mason nodded. “We’ll be ready, sir. All of us.”
Glover extended a hand which Mason shook in his own. “Godspeed to you, Mason. We’ll see you in Trenton.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, get down and keep quiet. Once we’re through the shoals, we’ll start looking for the Hessians. If all is well, we’ll put in. The rest will be up to you.”
“Got it.” Mason nodded. He moved to the center of the boat and knelt on one knee between Stratton and Higgs. “Okay. Be ready. Once we get through the shoals, start looking for the Hessians on the far shore. We’ll have a window, based on the way they patrol. If it’s good, we’ll jump and go.”
Stratton nodded. “Alpha team will lead, ranger file. We’ll get across the road about ten meters and circle up. From there, we can head uphill and find a good spot.”
“That’s my job,” Higgs said. “Alpha team will provide security while we look for a good position that can see the town and the bridge but give us some concealment. As long as there’s snow on that hillside, we should be fine.”
“That part of the hill faces north. Should be plenty of snow,” Mason said. “Once we’re there, we tighten up and hit fifty percent security. I want everyone to eat and sleep while they’re not on watch.”
Higgs nodded and Stratton gave a thumbs-up. Mason clapped each of them on the shoulder and was about to say something when a light in the distance caught his eye.
“Trenton,” Mason said. The oarsmen knelt along the gunwales of the boat and gently pushed off the bottom. As they glided through the water, Mason realized that the far bank was getting closer by the moment.
Oh, shit!
Even kneeling, their white snow ponchos stood out in the starlight. Mason whispered to them, “Prone position. Everybody get flat on the bottom of the boat.”
They shuffled into position, the Durham boat rocking gently as they did.
“Be still,” Glover hissed.
Mason froze and tried to breathe quietly. After a few moments, they slid past a large barnlike structure along the riverbank with lanterns burning in its windows. He could hear voices above them barking in their guttural tongue.
Any second, they’re going to look out the window! We’re so fucked!
But nothing happened. After another minute, the barn was behind them and the boat rocked gently through what had to be the shoals Glover had spoken of. The lights of Trenton were farther away now; the oarsmen stood and resumed their smooth pushing. The boat picked up speed.
“Mason?” Glover’s voice was soft but urgent.
“Sir?”
“See the guards? With the lantern? They’re just coming back from patrol. We’re going straight to the lower ferry.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“What did you say?”
Murphy rolled over to Mason. “Roger is another word for ‘fuck’ in this time period, Mason.”
Mason tried not to laugh. “Sorry, sir. We’re good to go.”
Glover signaled to the oarsmen to pick up the pace. “Be ready when I tell you.”
“Everybody up on one knee. Get ready to move,” Mason said. The squad moved into position. Stratton turned to Mason and smiled. In the dim starlight, his teeth were eerily white. Mason smiled in return.
The bow of the Durham boat squared to the Delaware shore. Mason watched as the oarsmen accelerated their pushing, but still kept the smooth, quiet rhythm.
Here we go.
“Alpha team, get ready,” Mason whispered.
Stratton said, “Brace yourselves for hitting the shore.”
No sooner had Mason moved to steady himself than they felt the bow brushing across the river bottom and climbing the bank.
“Go, Mason!” Glover said.
The squad shot to their feet as one and vaulted over the bow of the boat. Alpha team moved in a fast, tight ranger file. Onto the road. Mason took his position in the center and ensured that Higgs and her team were there behind him.
“Move out,” he whispered to Stratton and they were off. Across the road, the thicker vegetation pushed the squad closer together. Mason could reach out and touch Koch’s shoulder if he wanted to. Through what had to be a summer thicket, they moved at a snail’s pace for what felt like an eternity. Mason stepped through and into a clearer, sparse forest floor as they started to move up a hillside. He was about to tap Koch on the shoulder and pass the signal to stop when the signal came back from the front. They knelt slowly. Koch took off his helmet and sat listening to the quiet wind.
Nice. A perfect transition. Mason smiled to himself. The squad immediately moved into a cigar-shaped perimeter, narrow on both ends and wide enough in the middle that Mason could consult with Stratton and Higgs. Weapons out, completely silent, Mason reached up and removed his Kevlar helmet and let the cold air bite into the thin layer of sweat on his scalp. The rest of the squad did the same—a listening halt. Mason closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the quiet forest. What passed for normal in the darkness was what they had to not exceed. After two minutes, give or take, Mason slipped his helmet on and adjusted his chin strap. Stratton and Higgs did the same before tapping the nearest members of their team.
Mason looked out to the north at the edge of Trenton in the distance. A small hill blocked their view just to the north and east. Given its proximity to Assunpink Creek, and the edge of the lighted, noisy town, Mason thought it was the perfect place to look for an objective rally point.
Stratton leaned over. “Which way, boss?”
“Thinking over there.” Mason pointed. “Set up at the hilltop.”
“This side,” Higgs said. “We put two people on the top and observe the town, everyone else on the backside. Looks like there is a deep little cut there. It would give us protection and a faster way out.”
Mason squinted. “Long as we can see the bridge. If we can find the right position on this side of that hilltop, we’ll set up there.” He looked up into the partially clouded sky. The moon wasn’t visible and the woods were dark without much starlight. “Stay close. Arm’s length, okay? Make sure you can see the person in front and behind you.”
“What if we think we’re separated?”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. Stop. Whisper first. Then try to whistle. Just don’t start screaming.”
“We’ll be fine. Just make sure we stay together,” Stratton said. “Can’t be but a few hundred meters.”
“Nice and slow, Stratton,” Mason said. “As silent as we can go.”
Stratton slapped him on the shoulder. “You got it. Ready?”
Mason took a deep breath and glanced again at the distant lights of Trenton. Hessian soldiers, armed to the teeth and capable of wielding their firepower, were close enough to see. With real ammunition in their M16s, Mason and his squad would have had effective range from their target hilltop. The blanks in their rifles would serve a purpose—making the Hessians believe Mason’s squad was more like a regiment. Their muskets would be the real weaponry. There were pyrotechnics, too. The artillery simulators could have great effect to confuse and stop the Hessians. There were a lot of variables he’d have to consider. The weather and the terrain, though, were on their side. In the cold night with a solid blanket of snow on the ground, cover and concealment were good enough that the full moon poking through sporadic clouds couldn’t hinder. They could do this.
“Brief your teams and move out in one minute,” Mason said. “Nice and silent.”
Stratton and Higgs turned to their teams. Mason watched them brief a cadet and then have the cadet turn to the next. A memory came of he and fellow Boy Scouts standing in two long lines, each Scout holding a miniature Snickers bar. The scoutmaster, his father, whispered something in each boy’s ear and then counted them down from three. The first person then ate the Snickers bar and attempted to pass the message to the next Scout as fast as possible. When it got to Mason, the message was unintelligible gibberish. The lesson, however, was clear. Time doesn’t matter if the message is garbled. Instead of standing up after sixty seconds, he watched and ensured that everyone had the message he’d given. When Stratton and Higgs turned back to him, Mason stood.
“Let’s go.”
They moved as one, quiet and slow for the better part of an hour before they reached the hill. The farthest western spur of the minor ridge was a perfect place to wait, shielded by a rock outcropping about a meter and a half tall with a small, rounded overhang where at least two squad members could sleep fully stretched out. There was even room for a small fire, but Mason did not want to risk it. Koch and Murphy took the first watch up top. Mason and Higgs took the first watch below. Stratton, Dunaway, Booker, and Martinez shook out their sleeping bags and lay down without a word.
Higgs sat next to Mason on the dirt just outside the outcropping. “It’s not as cold as I thought it would be.”
“Really?” Mason asked. He hadn’t thought about any effect the weather would have.
“Yeah,” Higgs said. “Murphy says the real storm is tomorrow night, but if I remember right Washington and the army are in for a brutal winter in our timeline.”
Mason snorted, but nodded his head in understanding. “With our gear, a night like this is uncomfortable, but survivable without a fire, huh?”
“Exactly. Its already three in the morning. Not much sleep tonight.”
“We can alternate sleeping all day tomorrow.”
“I suppose.” Higgs laid her musket down and hugged her knees to her chest. It didn’t take a rocket science degree to believe something was wrong.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” she said. After a moment, he saw her shoulders quiver. Her breathing hitched once and he could almost hear the tears cascade down her cheeks. For a moment, Mason struggled with all of the mandatory Army training he and the others had to endure with regard to sexual harassment and sexual assault. The goal of the training had been to support others, just don’t touch them. After a long moment, Mason scooted closer to his friend and simply wrapped an arm around her shivering shoulders. Being a soldier was more than learning what not to do.
It was doing what was right.
“We’re going to be okay, Ashley.”
She nodded her head but didn’t respond for two minutes. He heard and felt her cry without a sound and wondered if he could perform that feat and decided that he couldn’t. When tears came from him, they were ugly noisy things. Higgs was made of something far sterner than himself. As quickly as her tears came, she wiped at her face.
“Sorry, Mason. It’s Christmas morning and I miss my family, that’s all.”
Mason nodded but said nothing. He hadn’t even thought of Christmas or his family. After Higgs had her fit of tears, it was something he would not do. He kept his arm around her shoulders though and for several minutes, they simply sat there as friends. No words were exchanged and he knew that they might never speak of it again, and that didn’t matter. For a moment, she’d needed help and for the first time he realized that as a leader he could do that in many ways.
Even in the ways others said didn’t work.
Christmas Day, 1776
At precisely 7:00 a.m., the Hessian artillery corps fired a single cannon shot into the predawn sky to welcome Christmas. Over the cold, perfectly paraded troops, the sky was filled with low clouds and an ominous red smear of light at the horizon. Sutton sat astride his horse at the front of his platoon of dragoons with a frown on his face. Two of his men were sick enough to miss the mandatory parade. While not as gross a violation as some of his peer Hessian units, their inability to parade was something he took personally. Dysentery or not, a proper British dragoon did not miss a parade. No sooner had the parade ended than he’d called for a private formation at the stables. He intended to discipline them as a group for the shortcomings of the sick.
The Hessians shifted positions, something between attention and parade rest, but Sutton did not change his unit’s posture. They remained at attention, stiff as frozen boards on the frigid morning. Rall was talking now, but his Hessian dialect was almost inhuman to Sutton’s ears. The fat colonel would ramble about nothing for ten or twelve minutes, call the brigade to attention, and then saunter off to the godawful music of his personal band. The parade was a standard, unchanging beast that Sutton loathed above all things. Yet, on Christmas morning, his thoughts were elsewhere.
The surprise, as it were, would be perfect. Vernon Daniels was almost certainly a liar and a traitor to the Crown. Without a doubt, the weapons he’d serviced for the Hunterdon men and Washington’s army itself would be there in his modest cabin alongside the Hessian rifles he’d seen a few days before. Sutton’s promise to apprehend the men on Christmas morning, ill-timed as it was, still served a purpose. Daniels’ daughter would be brought to Trenton soon after. The daughter would attend Colonel Rall’s holiday ball on Sutton’s arm, but her father should be under armed guard and questioned at Sutton’s leisure. Except that it was almost better to leave the man in place and more keenly observe him. There was no doubt that Washington and the Continental armies benefited from spies like Daniels on the British side of the line. Sutton intended to capture him, and with the proper form of persuasion, might actually get workable intelligence on the whereabouts of Washington’s army. Daniels might have that information, and he might not. All it would take for Sutton to know for certain was to place the girl in a modicum of harm and the old man would crack. Sutton had seen it before and the quality of the information received was never in question.
It was so close he could almost taste the accolades from General Grant and maybe even Lord General Howe himself. Patience, he told himself. Gather the daughter first and then squeeze the traitor as necessary.
The parade ended with Rall abruptly stopping his speech and screaming at one of his battalions. His cannoneers fired a single empty shot that echoed thunder through the valley. The Hessians scattered in every direction. Sutton saw Lieutenant Sturm turn and look at him with a sour face.
“Another alert for nothing.” Sutton smiled in return. He spun on his horse and surveyed the seventeen men in his formation for a long moment.
A smattering of rifle fire to the northeast caught his attention, but there was nothing more. Startled Hessians. He wanted to shake his head with disgust. They’d be firing at ghosts before long.
He turned to his men. The gunfire stripped away his plan for discipline. But it was just as well. “Standard patrols this morning, gentlemen. Three rounds instead of two. First section will converge on the Daniels home with a wagon at no later than ten o’clock this morning and seize all weapons—friend or foe. When she is ready, bring the daughter to my quarters. Let me be clear, gentlemen, no Hessian order will supersede my order. Are my orders clear?”
There was no response. Then again, there seldom was with his commands. Questions meant additional duties or involuntary transfers.
“Good,” Sutton said. “You are released to your patrol routes immediately. Complete this task by two this afternoon and you will have the afternoon to reflect upon your good fortune. Dismissed.”
The platoon broke apart into one eight-man section and a nine-man section. The first rode in the direction of the River Road to start their long patrol north. The second arced toward the Burlington Road. They would have the longest ride, to proceed south and then north along the Pennington Road, but both would easily make the gunsmith’s home by ten and return by noon. There would be much to do at his quarters to get ready for them.
He lingered for a moment, watching the last of his men start on their patrols without him. They had their orders and would succeed in doing what he’d commanded them to do. In order for him to do his part, and subvert Rall’s incompetent command by finding Washington for the British commanders to destroy, there were some preparations to complete.
Washington and his ragtag army were close. There were eyes watching the Hessians and their stupid parades even now. What would those spies report to Washington? Would he see an opportunity? No, Sutton decided. Washington would do the prudent thing and shelter his troops as long as possible in the hopes his Congress would come to their aid. A fallacy, yes, because a Congress was nothing more than a group of individuals looking out for themselves under the guise of service. Sutton nudged his mount toward the dragoon’s stable. A warm breakfast awaited at the hands of his hostess, and from there he could determine the best way to get what he wanted under the guise of service, too.