It’s hard for us to imagine just how desperate the situation was or how wild the idea of attack must have seemed. The artist Charles Wilson Peale described his viewing of the army gathered on the banks of the Delaware like this, “A man staggered out of line and came toward me. He had lost all his clothes. He was in an old dirty blanket jacket, his beard long and his face full of sores… which so disfigured him that he was not known to me at first sight. Only when he spoke did I recognize my brother James.” How could these men (boys most of them) be expected to go into battle? The Hessians they would be facing were well disciplined and universally feared professionals. The only hope was a surprise attack.

     The attack was to have three parts. Generals Ewing and Cadwalader would cross below Trenton, and Washington’s troops ten miles north of the city. They would assemble before dark and sneak across the river, arriving to attack the enemy together at 5:00 AM. The officers were ordered to wear a piece of white paper in their hats so that their troops would easily see and follow them. Sixteen-year-old fifer John Greenwood wrote in his memoirs of that Christmas day that everyone was issued a weapon, even musicians like himself. “I had then a gun, as indeed every officer had.  Every man had sixty round of cartridges served out to him…none but the first officers knew where we were going or what we were about, for it was a secret expedition.” The boy Greenwood had arrived only two days before, one of 100 survivors returning from the failed campaign in Canada.

   The plan began to fall apart immediately. They arrived at the crossing point too late, the weather bad with heavy rain, hail and freezing snow. As he left his quarters for the crossing point, Washington was approached by a young Major who carried a letter from General Horatio Gates.  Gates claimed he was too ill to participate in the attack. In fact, Gates had gone to Philadelphia to try and undermine Washington before Congress. (The Major at least went down to the river to volunteer for action.) The ice began to grow thick in the river, and the water was rough from the wind. Both Ewing and Cadwalader failed in their attempts to cross the river. The situation, desperate to begin with, had actually become worse.

      Once Washington’s troops were all across (an amazing feat in itself), they had to begin the slow march to Trenton. It has been said that the trail of the men was easily followed by the bloody footprints they left in the snow. They were three hours behind schedule and all hopes of attacking before dawn were gone. Washington wrote, “As I was certain there was no making a retreat without being discovered…I determined to push on in all events.” Washington had selected the password for the army that night and wrote them out on several slips of paper given to the officers: “Victory or death.” The rough and winding march was made even more difficult by the weather. Young John Greenwood says, “I recollect very well that at one time, when we halted on the road, I sat down on the stump of a tree and was so benumbed with cold that I wanted to go to sleep.  Had I been passed unnoticed I should have frozen to death without knowing it, but as good luck attended me, Sergeant Madden came and, rousing me up, made me walk about.” Two other solders would not be so lucky that night and did freeze to death. Washington encouraged his men along the road, “Soldiers, keep by your officers. For God’s sake keep by your officers.”

   At the Birmingham Crossroads Washington divided his troops. They would attack from different sides, still hoping by some miracle to surprise their enemies. About this time it was discovered that their flints and powder had gotten wet and were probably ruined. The men asked what was to be done; Washington replied, “Advance and charge.” The battle that followed was brief. Twenty Hessian soldiers were killed, 100 wounded and 1000 captured.  Only four of the patriot forces were wounded and none was killed. After so many months of defeat and despair, a victory.

     For Americans, this is the other Christmas story. It has become the subject of stories and art and reenactment. It’s so far from the way we spend our Christmas today that we can scarcely imagine what it was like, so foreign that we could easily believe it a myth. The reality of that day changed the patriot cause forever. It showed the Patriots of 76 that they could win at a time when belief was at its lowest and hope seemed foolish. It told the world that this new people, contending for liberty, just might prevail.