CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mason jerked upright at the sound of thunder. Murphy hadn’t said it was going to thunder snow. He looked at his watch as he rolled his face up. The sun was up. His watch said 0805. Another rumble sounded from below the town.
Not thunder. Artillery! Fuck!
“Everybody up!” he cried. “Get up! Get up!”
The ring of sleeping people all jumped to their feet as one. Jackets and snowsuits came on, muskets were grabbed. The sounds of muskets firing in the distance and another volley of artillery washed over them. Murphy scrambled down from their watch position.
“Mason! Dunaway is gone!” he said. “I fell asleep, I’m sorry—”
Mason grabbed Murphy by the collar. “Where is Dunaway? Why didn’t you guys wake up the next watch?”
“I fell asleep. She’s gone, Mason,” Murphy sputtered. “I don’t know!”
“Her gear is here.” Higgs pointed down.
“Fuck her!” Stratton yelled. “We’ve got to go!”
Mason whirled toward the voice and realized that Stratton was right. “Get us down there, but don’t cross the bridge. Stay out of sight—the Hessians are going to guard that bridge. When the first ones approach the bridge, use an artillery simulator. Scare the fuck out of them!”
Stratton tapped his vest and nodded. “Red star cluster is un-ass, retreat, and run. I’ve got it. Let’s go, Alpha Team. On me!”
Fuck. Mason shook his head. We’re out of position and late!
Higgs brushed past. “Focus, Mason. We’ve got time. Get us into position.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” He pointed at Stratton, who started moving through the heavy falling snow. With their white suits on, they looked like ghosts moving through the forest and winter underbrush. Mason fell into his position at the middle of the squad as they moved out. A minute later, they passed a pile of clothing. Dunaway’s uniform, boots, and snowsuit. Her long underwear wasn’t there, so she’d at least had the presence of mind to try and protect herself.
Goddammit.
Where is she? Just as quickly as the thought came and went, another did. Does it matter?
Mason shook off the thought and kept walking. They’d have to come back and retrieve all of their gear eventually. The pile of Dunaway’s gear was just something else they’d have to carry. Fresh anger surfaced and he raged at himself for failing to see that she was going to run. Now they’d lost a rifle and a human being. The rifle would take time for the enemy to reverse engineer. Dunaway had knowledge of the future, which was just as dangerous. He thought she’d been a liability before leaving, and now she’d crossed the line to all-out risk. Maybe she was in the town telling Rall and his Hessians about the attack. Maybe she’d run and died of exposure somewhere nearby.
Does it matter? Mason took a deep breath and ran after his squad.
Around the small spur of terrain, they turned north and headed down into the brush at the edge of Assunpink Creek. Across the way, Hessian soldiers ran to and fro. In the distance, Mason could make out the vanguard elements of Sullivan’s brigades moving fast down the River Road. A sizable portion of Hessians formed up and moved toward the river and their bridge. Stratton waved the squad down into concealment and they found their way to the ground. Mason looked at Stratton and signaled that this was their assault position. Should they have to attack, Stratton’s team would provide covering fire while Higgs moved her team across the bridge. They’d repeat the bounding maneuver until everyone was across the bridge.
Mason watched the Hessians form up along the far bank as chaos descended on them from the north. As one they turned and moved north up the River Road to confront the charging rebels. As another rumble of American artillery roared to life, Mason couldn’t help but smile. History was being made right in front of them!
Focus, Jameel. Hold that bridge for thirty minutes.
All we have to do is hold the bridge .
* * *
North of Trenton, on a spot of high ground suitable to deploy his artillery and observe the town below, Washington saw Rall’s regiment form and attempt to flank Greene’s division from the east. His Pennsylvania infantry were there and ready for a fight. He turned to Tilghman and a collection of messengers.
“Lieutenant, send my compliments to Colonel Hand and Colonel Haussegger. Have them shift east and take that far high ground and lay fire into the Hessian counterattack.” Washington didn’t wait for the riders to leave before turning back to the battle. Hessian regiments had formed and drifted back to the center of town. He could see Sullivan’s division marching down the River Road and making a swift advance into the enemy’s rear. The bridge was secure. Mason had only to hold another precious few moments before Sullivan would arrive.
Washington’s artillery laid fire into the town and carnage ensued. Horses went down in spectacular, awful woundings. Hessian guns brought to fire were silenced by sheer volume. Washington strained to see into Sullivan’s division for action against the exposed Hessian guns on King Street. If they were to take them, the Hessians would have no other choice than to abandon the town itself and try to reconsolidate in the orchards to the east.
No sooner had Washington thought about the course of action than he saw men from what he assumed were Henry Knox’s command split off and charge into the town.
Washington looked to the east and saw Hand’s regiment had indeed cut off the Hessian advance with a steady stream of rifle and cannon fire. If we can take the Hessian cannon, he mused, the rout will be complete. The Hessians continued to retreat house to house in an orderly manner. More ran toward the orchard, exactly where Mason said they would in order to launch a second attack. With Sullivan behind them, there was no place to run except to cross the creek itself, which was where Mason and his squad came in. If they held, there would be no advance warning to General Grant.
If they held.
* * *
Musket fire caught Mason’s attention to their front. To the northwest, Sullivan’s division came down the River Road headed straight for the old stone bridge. He looked to his left and right, saw the faces of his friends behind their muskets, and cleared his throat.
“Give each other time to load. Murphy and Koch. Use your M16s. Semiauto. Keep up a steady rate of fire. Everybody else, muskets until I say switch.” The Hessians lined up to fire at the advancing division. Their attention elsewhere, Mason saw an opening. He got Stratton’s attention and tapped his chest. His counterpart grinned and withdrew the artillery simulator. Mason watched Stratton unpack it slowly, withdrawing the ignition string. Stratton moved up to his knees, pulled the string, and threw the simulator to the west on their side of the creek. Stratton fell to the prone position. The ignition took a few seconds, but the simulator smoked and began to whistle, replicating the sound of a large, falling artillery shell. Mason closed his eyes and put his fingers in his ears. The simulator detonated and shook snow from the trees above them.
Mason rolled up to a firing position. “Open fire!”
Their first shots dropped two Hessian soldiers at the rear of the enemy formation. The next volley took down two more and Mason saw them pointing and yelling in the cadets’ direction. They can’t see us! Another volley, this one from Higgs and Martinez, dropped an officer and wounded another man. The Hessians looked over their collective shoulders and back at Sullivan’s division descending upon them. To a man, they turned and fled toward the east.
A man on horseback raced across the bridge. He rode almost up onto their position before Mason stood in the snow and removed his hood. In the helmet band of his Kevlar was a white piece of paper. The man on horseback grinned. “Washington’s bloody ghosts!”
Mason saluted. “General Sullivan.”
“Well done, lads,” Sullivan said. “We’ll take the bridge and this shoreline.” He pointed at the center of town. “Move that direction toward General Greene’s division with General St. Clair.”
“Yes, sir.” Mason turned to the squad. “Let’s go!”
As one, they stood and ran for the bridge. Mason looked back at the trees where Dunaway’s gear lay. They’d recover it later and worry about her whereabouts. Across the bridge, he heard a cheer from King Street and saw a contingent of rebels overrunning the Hessian cannons. Two men, both officers, were down. One of them was bleeding profusely from his shoulder.
Eyes on General St. Clair’s horse, Mason moved that direction when he heard Stratton screaming.
“Higgs! Higgs! Get back here!”
Horrified, Mason watched Ashley Higgs sprinting toward King Street with her Combat Life Saver bag in hand.
“Go!” he screamed at them. “Follow Higgs!”
* * *
Higgs ran toward the cannons, flinging back her hood to reveal her helmet and piece of paper. A few confused troops spun toward her with rifles ready and stopped. She never broke stride and slid to the ground next to the wounded young officer. He looked up at her with wide eyes.
“It’s you,” he said. His skin was white and his hands shook as he raised them at her. “From the boat.”
She remembered him then. Digging into her first aid kit, her mind was already on his wound. “You’re hit.”
“Hit?”
“Shot,” she said and withdrew emergency shears from the bag. “Going to cut your uniform.”
“Shouldn’t you wait for a doctor?” the young man asked. There was a hint of a smile on his face.
She looked at his eyes. He was too cute to die. “I’m better than a doctor.”
“I hope so.” He was a lieutenant, if Murphy’s lesson on rank and dress served her right.
“What’s your name, Lieutenant?” She cut his coat and pulled it away from the wound. The ball had penetrated his arm and shoulder before exiting. There was too much blood for a clean wound. An artery had been damaged. Maybe even severed. His eyes fluttered and his mouth moved but no sound came out. She looked up at the soldiers around her. “Move this man to a house with a table.”
No one moved. A man stepped through the interested ring. “Who are you?”
“Cadet Sergeant Higgs. I’m an EMT.”
“Excuse me?”
“A . . . ” She paused. How can I explain it? “I’m a medic.”
“What?”
“I’m a doctor!” she growled at the man.
“You’re a woman!” the man exclaimed. “I’m Doctor Riker. That man is bleeding to death. Stand aside, young lady.”
Higgs looked up at the nearest soldier. “You! Pick three men and move this lieutenant inside that building! Do it right now or he’s going to die!”
Thunderstruck, the soldiers did exactly what she said. Inside the small house, they cleared a table and set the lieutenant on it. By the light of the open door, she could see the damage more clearly. She dug into her kit for a clamp. “The artery has been hit.”
Riker leaned in. “We’ll need to—”
Higgs moved the clamp past Riker and dug into the lieutenant’s wound. She clamped it once, but there was no difference in the volume of blood. She tried again and the flow ceased. As she ripped open gauze packets, she looked up at Riker. “Help me clean this wound. We need to look for fragments.”
Riker nodded. “Infection. Right.”
They dabbed the wound. The lieutenant stirred a little, his skin more colorful and vibrant than it had been mere minutes before. “What happened?”
“You took a ball to the shoulder and it damaged an artery,” Riker said. “This young woman found it and has clamped it down. We’re cleaning your wound. Everything is going to be fine.”
Higgs looked up from his wound and smiled. “We’re going to raise your legs, first.”
“Why?” Riker demanded. “The blood will move faster through the wound.”
“I’m treating him for shock,” Higgs said.
“Shock?”
Higgs stared at him. “And you’re a doctor? Loss of blood? Loss of consciousness? Any of that sound familiar?”
Riker nodded but said nothing. His incredulous eyes fell over her bloody hands and the bag at her side.
“Good,” she said. “Now. I’m going to suture that artery, Lieutenant. You’re going to lay still. I’ll get you something for the pain.” She fingered the ampoule of morphine and a syringe. A small dose loaded, she injected him near the wound. “Now, just relax. What’s your name?”
“James,” he said. “Yours?”
“Ashley.”
The man smiled. “Ashley. I like that very much.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back. His body relaxed with the morphine in his system, she leaned in with her suture kit and got to work. Riker watched her, fascinated. As she finished, the older man shook his head.
“I’ve never seen anything like that. Where did you get your training?” Riker asked. “And that uniform! Just who are you?”
She smiled and shrugged. “One of Washington’s bloody ghosts.”
The sound of gunfire diminished outside. The door opened and a white-clad soldier stepped into the room. Mason pointed at her patient. “He okay?”
“He’s going to be fine,” Higgs said. “What’s going on out there?”
“Sullivan has the far side of the creek. The Hessians didn’t get out.” Mason paused. “Three dragoons did. Including the captain.”
Oh no. She bit her bottom lip. “They’ll go after the Danielses.”
“I think so. We’re going to tell Washington and go back to protect them, if we can. We have to hurry.”
Higgs nodded. “I should stay here in case his suture opens.”
Mason looked past her for a second. “Yeah. We can handle this.”
“Mason!” Murphy ran through the door. “General Washington is coming down into town. The Hessians have struck their colors!”
Murphy looked at Higgs and her bloody hands before he looked at the young man on the table. “Who’s your patient?”
“He said his name was James,” she said. “I gave him some morphine before he could tell me more.”
Murphy’s mouth was agape for a long moment. He looked up at Mason, then Doctor Riker, and back to her. His mouth worked silently. “James. James Monroe.”
Mason flinched. “No shit?”
“Yeah.” Murphy smiled at her. “How’s that feel, Higgs?”
She looked down at her patient asleep on the table, a small smile on his face in the morphine-induced dream. A future President of the United States. Monroe hadn’t died before, so Riker obviously got the job done, she thought. A President!
A cute one at that.
She looked up at Murphy, unashamed of the tears in her eyes. “Pretty damned good.”
* * *
“They’re struck, sir.”
Washington stared toward the orchard. “What did you say?”
“Sir. Their colors have been struck.”
That can’t be right.
“Struck?”
“Yes, sir.”
Washington looked down King Street and saw the flagpole outside of Rall’s headquarters was indeed bare. “So they are.”
He moved forward without another word, aware that the artillerymen had left their guns and followed him. In the town below, the defeated Hessians mingled with the American troops. A fresh smattering of musket fire erupted near the Assunpink Creek bridge and then fell silent. Washington approached Rall’s headquarters aware of his men’s adulation only vaguely. A young man sprinted in his direction and Washington took a moment to realize it was General Sullivan’s aide. He was talking, but Washington could not hear him.
My God! Mason was right. We’re nearly unscathed!
“—regiment has surrendered to a man, sir. Victory is complete.”
Washington smiled and extended a hand. “Major Wilkinson? This is a glorious day for our country.”
“Indeed it is, sir,” Wilkinson said.
Over the young major’s shoulder, seven figures dressed in white with greenish helmets and white pieces of paper flapping ran toward him. Washington dismounted and strode forward, smiling. The cadets slowed to a walk and then stopped to salute him. He returned it in their manner, not the open palm salute of the British.
“Mason. You were right.”
Mason nodded. “Sir, three dragoons escaped after General Sullivan relieved us. They jumped the creek on horseback.”
“Where are they headed?” He glanced at Murphy.
“Princeton, sir,” Murphy said. “We’re afraid that they might go after Mister Daniels on their way. Their officer harassed the Danielses a lot. We think they are a target.”
Washington felt his smile fade. “I see.”
“With your permission, sir, we want to go protect—”
A scream came from behind Washington and he barely had time to turn before being knocked to the cold, muddy street. There was a flash and bang at the same time. Washington turned on his side and saw a Hessian grenadier standing in an open doorway with a musket pointing in his direction. For a split second, he checked his body mentally for injury and found none. More rifle fire rang out and the Hessian went down. Washington turned his head and saw the larger, dark-skinned cadet writhing in pain on the ground.
Tilghman helped him to his feet. “Sir?”
His eyes were on the young man. His left arm bled from a wound below the shoulder. Washington brushed off his coat and stepped closer. “Is he all right?” he asked Mason.
Mason turned. “Looks like a flesh wound, sir. I’m going to have Higgs check him out. She’s taking care of Lieutenant Monroe.”
Washington nodded through his shock. He knelt down to the young man. “What’s your name?”
“Booker, sir.”
“And you pushed me down to protect me?”
Booker grimaced as they pulled him to a sitting position. Contrasted against the sheer white cloak was the young man’s bright red blood.
“I’m deeply indebted to you,” Washington said, his mouth suddenly dry. Mason and Koch hauled Booker to his feet and passed him to Martinez and Murphy. Washington followed them with his eyes for a moment.
“We need to go, General.” Mason’s urgent voice broke his concentration.
“Refit and resupply, Mason,” Washington said.
“There’s no time, General,” Mason said. “If we run, we can be there in a half hour.”
Vernon Daniels was a hell of a shot and a tremendous gunsmith. But he was only one man against three dragoons. Mason and his squad could at least provide protection. “Go, Mason. You’ll have support as soon as I can get a company there.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mason saluted and the cadets ran. Washington could hear the men calling them ghosts as they watched the scene. Into the howling maw of the storm, went six young men. The two young women were missing. Mason stopped. “Cadet Higgs is with Lieutenant Monroe. We don’t know where Cadet Dunaway is.”
“Go, Mason. We can figure that out later.” Washington pointed. “Return by nightfall.”
“Yes, sir!”
He watched them for a long moment. What else did they know? What was to come next? Lieutenant Tilghman’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Sir? What of their rifle? Are you going to tell them?”
Washington turned and looked at his adjutant. Aside from Mister Lee, there was no one he trusted more. The rifle, safely in Mister Lee’s care and awaiting the keen eye of Jefferson, hadn’t been on his mind at all. Watching the cadets in action, knowing what they knew and not shying away from their devotion to the country, filled his heart with pride. Yet they were a limited resource. If they died, their equipment and uniforms might not affect anything. Some would serve, but others would be called upon for other duties. Jefferson, he believed, could help discern that while he examined the weapon himself. For that, the cadets did not need to know the missing rifle had been acquired. Passion and purpose were valuable motivators.
“No, Tench,” Washington said. “They do not need to know about the rifle.”
“And the Virginians? What will you tell them?”
Washington nodded. “The men have been told that it was nothing. Given my impending discussion with General Stephen, I believe they’ll keep their mouths shut. However”—he paused and pasted a grim smile on his face—“General Stephen and I will have a most spirited discussion with the full knowledge of the Congress. To be sure.”
Another aide appeared. “Sir, Colonel Rall has been gravely wounded.”
Washington nodded. “I will see him to pay my respects.”
“He’s being brought to his headquarters now, sir.”
“Very well,” Washington said. A few moments later, a grim procession climbed up the shallow hill from the orchards. Hessian soldiers carried their commander slowly. The man’s ashen face twisted in agony and the side of his uniform was soaked with blood. Beyond a doubt, he would not survive his wounds. He lay upon a ragged bench with a lieutenant keeping step. The young man looked up at him.
“Colonel Rall, sir,” the young lieutenant said. He touched a scar on his cheek and dabbed at teary eyes.
Washington nodded and leaned down. “Colonel.”
The man spoke in a harsh whisper. The lieutenant translated. “The colonel asks that his men keep their possessions, General.”
Washington nodded and touched Rall gently on the arm. “Of course.”
The procession moved on to Rall’s headquarters and the colonel was carried inside. By now, his commanders had started to appear in the crowd. Washington turned to Tilghman.
“Treat all prisoners with dignity. Find and inventory all stores and provisions. Send for General Greene and we’ll establish a defense.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“Assemble the commanders in two hours in the church.” Washington pointed. “It’s time we do something about this war.”
“And those cadets, General?” Tilghman raised an eyebrow.
Washington looked in the direction the white-cloaked young men had gone. “Send a company of men to support them.”
“Anything else, sir?”
Washington nodded. Mason and his men had disappeared into the storm in their white camouflage. The soldiers of the future fought much like the enemies of Washington’s own past. You cannot fight what you cannot see.
“Secure every white sheet in the town, every town we come upon. Ensure that the quartermaster general is aware that white sheets are the highest priority during winter operations. As long as winter howls, we have an advantage to press, Tilghman,” Washington said. “Advantages change history.”