CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
December 30, 1776
Mason woke well after dawn. The floor of the Anglican Church made a warm, suitable place for the squad to bed down together for the first time in days. Koch snored in one corner and no one else moved as Mason stirred upright in his sleeping bag and rubbed his eyes. His watch read 0830 and for a moment, he could hear nothing from outside. One sleeping bag, the one where Higgs had neatly laid out her gear, was flat and empty. Mason quietly unzipped his bag and considered changing his socks for a moment before realizing that digging in his bag would wake the others and he didn’t want that. They all needed sleep.
For the past forty-eight hours, they’d helped Washington and his generals learn the principles of modern defensive positions, clandestine-movement operations, and ambush techniques to the point of exhaustion. Washington would meet with them again at 1100 to discuss his plan for the arrival of the British army on January 2. So far, there was no indication that the British army knew anything different regarding the situation and Murphy’s knowledge of the timeline would soon expire. His term paper had been through January 1777 and Washington’s movement to the higher ground of northern New Jersey. After that, the historical knowledge in the squad lagged. They knew that Cornwallis would take the war effort south and that many battles would be waged over the next several years. Congress would occasionally succeed, but Washington’s logistical operations would need a serious boost. The French would eventually come to the Continental’s assistance, which could be good or bad. Lastly, they knew simply that Washington and the French were able to box in the British army at Yorktown. Murphy, to his credit, had left the French out of things so far. Mason knew it was for the best. They, like the British, were coming and it was just a matter of time.
It was also a matter of time to see if the British or the Hessians had the missing rifle. A complete search of the town revealed nothing, even in the shattered stables where the dragoons were killed. Washington tried to reassure Mason and the others, but it felt like a nagging, awful fear looking over his shoulder everywhere they went. Washington vowed to use his intelligence network and the army itself to track it down. Without having his hands on the rifle, Washington’s promise was more than enough for Mason. That feeling, though, of being responsible for the eventual end of America, would not go away.
Mason slipped on his boots and stood slowly, collecting his jacket and musket. Their M16s were stacked into pyramids along one side of the church, waiting for ammunition that might never come. Next to the rifles were the extra gear from Kennedy, Porter, and Dunaway. The empty helmets and laid-out clothing tugged at his emotions. Fresh anger at Dunaway, sadness for Kennedy, and regret for the loss of Porter all crashed in upon him at the same time and instead of weighing him down, he held them up with a glance at the sleeping forms around him. His people lived. It was no small accomplishment.
Mason pushed through the door and nodded to the posted guard. Washington had made it clear that the cadets were not to be bothered. Down the street to the south he could see the weeds where they’d positioned themselves before the battle began. He walked that way, keenly aware of the eyes on him, and found the cabins where the hospital had been created. Inside the first one, he found Higgs sitting at Monroe’s bedside.
“Hey,” he said softly to avoid waking her patient. The future President of the United States was asleep.
Higgs looked up. “Morning. Did General Washington find you?”
Mason shook his head. “I just woke up.”
“He told the men to let you guys sleep.” Higgs smiled. “I think the father of our country likes you.”
Mason chuckled. Three days before, he’d been a failure of a cadet and hardly someone that George Washington should trust.
“How’s he doing?” Mason asked. “Where’s Booker and Stratton?”
“Both asleep,” Higgs said. “Their wounds will hurt for a while, but they’ll both heal up nicely. Stratton got lucky and Booker was so damned brave.”
Mason nodded at the sleeping Monroe. “And your patient?”
“He’s going to be fine.”
Mason sat down next to her on a thin wooden bench. “Murphy says he gets evacuated to Virginia. I’d imagine somewhat soon.”
“Yeah,” she said, now looking at Monroe. “I’m wondering if I should go with him. I know more about medicine than any of the so-called doctors in this day and age.”
Mason shrugged. “Washington’s not going to let you stay here with the army, anyway. Welcome to the eighteenth century and all that.”
Higgs made a face but she didn’t argue the point. Women in the military in the year 1776 were camp followers, not soldiers—and that battle was probably a bridge too far, at least for the moment. The Continental Army just wasn’t ready for Ashley Higgs.
“I think Virginia sounds good,” Mason said. “You could do a lot more for us there than you can here.”
Higgs exhaled, clearly relieved. “You’re sure?”
“You think I need your help?” Mason felt a smile creep over his face.
“No, you don’t.” She touched his arm. “You’ve always been a good leader, Mason. Now you believe in yourself. You never did that before.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said and looked away.
“Hey! You are a good leader, Mason. You guys are about to change the world.” Higgs shook her head and pointed a finger at his chest. “Don’t think you’re not. The British army are going to march down that road and you all are going to be there to meet them. What we know changes history.”
Responsibility tightened its hands around his neck. “It’s too much. I mean, slavery? Discrimination? All of that is still coming, Higgs.”
Higgs smiled and patted his arm. “Or is it? Have faith, Mason. You changed the Battle of Trenton. What’s next?”
* * *
Mason walked across the street to the home of businessman Stacy Potts, now Washington’s headquarters, and climbed the steps. The posted guard there snapped a salute, which Mason returned in pure astonishment.
He pushed into Washington’s office and found the general alone at his writing desk. “You asked to see me, sir?”
“I went looking for you, yes. You and your squad needed rest, so I’ve endeavored to handle the copious needs of the army.” Washington did not look up from his writing. “Our army grows with every passing minute, Mason. Men have come from miles around at the news of our victory. We number nearly three thousand.”
Mason nodded. “They’ll continue to come in, sir.”
“Likely, yes.” Washington looked up. His eyes were bright and sharp. “They strain our ability to feed and clothe them, though. But that’s not why I wanted to see you. I expect to get another intelligence briefing from Murphy today. You’re certain his detailed knowledge is only for the next few weeks?”
“That’s what he said, sir. From there we know the eventual outcome, but the events of the campaign from now until then we don’t.” Mason shrugged. “Murphy told me that we have a few chances to really change the outcome of the war, though.”
“As in a faster resolution?” Washington asked. “When does this war end?”
“1781, sir.”
“Four more years.” He shook his head. “Even with the significant advantages you and your men provide, this army will not last four years without a renewed vigor in the government. The Congress must be made aware of your men, too. Perhaps I might even send one of you there.”
Mason squinted. “That would mean splitting us up.”
“Indeed, but it cannot be helped, Mason. Your collective knowledge is something this country cannot lose in battle. I would rather have your talents equally distributed in the disciplines this country will need,” Washington said and held out a piece of paper. “Some of you will most certainly stay with the army.”
Mason took the piece of paper and read it. “A captain’s commission, sir?”
Washington nodded. “Yes, Mason. Contingent upon the approval of the Congress. I wanted you to know before I sent it off with the day’s dispatches.”
“Sir? I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ll command a company of regular troops I will employ for specific missions. Your first will be training the others to move in small units, not unlike your squad. Your use of camouflage intrigues me, as well. I’ve ordered all white sheets to be conscripted for the army’s use. Given the snow cover, we would have a clear advantage against the British during the winter months.”
“Sir, I still don’t think it’s a good idea to split us up.”
“And I do, Mason.” Washington enunciated the words carefully. The argument was over. “I will, however, take your recommendations on where some of your squad would go. Do they have any specialties? Murphy, for example, seems to have a grasp of the history and is adept with people. I see him working with Congress, perhaps with Mister Franklin abroad in France.”
Murphy with Ben Franklin? Mason blinked. “Cadet Higgs wishes to remain with Lieutenant Monroe.”
Washington nodded. “That suits me well enough. Cadet Booker will be staying with the army, as will you and Stratton. I’m not sure yet where Koch and Martinez might best be of use.”
Mason thought for a moment. Koch’s training in agriculture wasn’t particularly critical, certainly not in the short run. Martinez, though . . .
“Martinez was a civil engineering student,” he said. “I think he’d best be suited—do you have a corps of engineers, sir?”
“Yes. Colonel Richard Gridley is in charge of it. You think I should assign Martinez to him?”
“Yes, sir. Koch can stay with the rest of us.”
Washington nodded with a finality Mason could sense without another word said. “We could easily defend this town from the south. Maybe even counterattack them with great success.” Washington paused for a moment, and then added: “Bring Murphy and let us plan the next phase of this campaign before winter closes in on us. The Congress granted me the authority to fight this war autonomously as Commander in Chief and I sense an opportunity that cannot be wasted.”
* * *
On the floor of the Anglican Church, their temporary barracks, Mason watched his squad carefully reassembling and cleaning their M16 rifles. Their orders were to turn over the weapons to the Congress for examination. Higgs would take Lieutenant Monroe to Baltimore and deliver their modern weapons into the hands of “strong-minded men,” in Washington’s words. He met her eyes. She sat amongst them in period dress.
“You look the part,” Mason said.
Higgs frowned and slapped at the folds of her dress. “I’d rather be staying in uniform, dammit.”
“You have a mission,” Mason said. “We all do.”
“I know,” Higgs said. “I’m to take care of Lieutenant Monroe and turn over our weapons and the extra gear from Kennedy and Porter for examination. It’s just . . . ”
“Just what?” Martinez asked. “Do you not trust General Washington?”
The group laughed, albeit a bit nervously. Higgs smiled. “I do, but we’re really talking about messing with history now.”
“We have to win the war, first,” Murphy said. “Granted, we could split off to the four winds after that, but that’s not what Washington wants us to do. He has a plan.”
Mason looked at him. “So what do we do?”
“You said it yourself, Mason. We know where they are and where they’re coming from. Cornwallis is with them. We take him out and the war . . . ”
“The war what?” Higgs asked.
Murphy chuckled. “I almost said the war should end. We don’t know that for a fact. I mean, what if killing Cornwallis makes things worse?”
Mason sat back. He hadn’t taken that thought seriously. Turning the bolt assembly in his hands, Mason watched the low lights of the lanterns flicker on the dull metal. “Courses of action.”
“What?” Martinez asked.
Mason looked up at them. All eyes were on him. “C’mon people. Military Decision Making Process, right? MDMP? Captain Branson taught us all that, right? Courses of action. We need to think this through. All of those boring lectures from Colonel Graves? Yeah, we need to think about everything we know. How can we change the situation?”
Murphy took a deep breath and shrugged. “Let’s say we kill off Cornwallis. The British under General Grant will likely hole up until spring in Princeton. That makes them a huge target.”
“What about the regular garrison in New York?” Mason asked.
“Howe will stay there. His brother is commanding the British fleet in New York harbor. He’ll elect to stay in New York if New Jersey is lost,” Murphy said. “He’ll send for reinforcements, of course, but he’ll sit the winter out.”
“Getting reinforcements will take some time,” Higgs said. “A couple of weeks? A month?”
“Maybe longer,” Murphy replied. “There’s no guarantee they’d come to New York, either. King George will attempt to divide the colonies. Remember, he goes after the south.”
“So, taking New York doesn’t accomplish anything?” Mason asked.
“Not exactly. I’d say that we could take New York, but the British would still come after the south,” Murphy said. “That does, however, bring France into the war.”
“This is a good thing?” Martinez smiled.
Mason nodded. “Without them and their naval actions, we likely wouldn’t have won the war anyway.” The ideas crystallized in Mason’s head. Washington wanted Murphy to go to Paris with Franklin to bring about a better partnership. One that could even take the fight to England’s door.
“Any luck finding Dunaway?” Koch asked.
Mason looked at Higgs, who answered for them both. “No. No one has seen her. She’s not anywhere in Trenton nor have any of Washington’s spies found her.”
“What if she’s captured?” Murphy said. “She could compromise a lot of things.”
“We have to assume that.” Mason shrugged. “The only good thing in our favor is that she left almost all of her gear and clothes when she ran away. Had she taken her weapon . . . ” He let the thought trail off. If Dunaway was still alive, and captured, she could certainly change the outcome of potential actions.
I wonder how much she really knows about history.
“She’s more interested in drama than anything else. Her mother wouldn’t let her major in it, so she wanted to double major in drama and art.” Higgs stared at the floor. “I don’t know how much of an impact she could have.”
“Any impact can be substantial,” Mason said. “We just don’t know.”
“And that means we have to assume the worst,” Murphy said. “We can hope for the best, but we have to plan for the worst.”
“That changes the fight,” Mason said. “We can’t be sure that Cornwallis will even attack.”
“Your buddy Washington has a pretty good intelligence network, right?” Martinez grinned. “I’ll bet we find out pretty quick whether Cornwallis arrives at Princeton and sets his sights on Trenton. If they come down the Princeton Road like Murphy says they do, we can hit them there.”
Mason nodded. The road curved through dense forests with plenty of snow still on the ground. In their snowsuits, much of the Continental Army would be invisible, but still outnumbered two to one. They would need more than camouflaged infantry. “When they march, Murphy, is it fast or slow?”
“Slow,” Murphy said. A slow smile appeared on his face. “They run into a lot of mud.”
“Then we still have the advantage,” Mason said. “So, the most likely course of action is that Cornwallis marches on Trenton like we know. The least likely is that they don’t based on their own intelligence. The most dangerous course of action is that Dunaway has been captured and is spilling our secrets along with telling them how that missing rifle works. Does that about cover it?”
The group nodded, almost in unison. After a few seconds, Higgs spoke up. “You know what those COAs change, Mason?”
“What?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Higgs said. “We’re still here, we’re still at war, and we still have a chance to change the course of history. If Dunaway is telling the British everything she knows, she’s one person. How much can a drama major change the world, guys?”