The Surprise at Trenton: Washington Crosses the Delaware

The night was the coldest anyone could remember. It was Christmas, 1776, and the Delaware River was full of jagged chunks of floating ice. The wind cut through every coat and blanket. Fingers went numb. Boots filled with slush. And yet, on the New Jersey bank, almost twenty-four hundred soldiers stood waiting in the dark. They were waiting for General George Washington. All year long, things had gone badly for the Continental Army. The British had pushed them out of New York. Soldiers were deserting. Men were hungry and sick. Some had no shoes at all, and you could track them by the blood they left in the snow. Thomas Paine had just written those famous words: These are the times that try men's souls. He was right. The soul of America was being tested that night. But Washington had a plan. Across the river, in the town of Trenton, nine hundred Hessian soldiers were resting after their Christmas celebrations. The Hessians were German troops hired by the British king to fight in America. Their commander, Colonel Rall, had been warned that the Americans might attack. He tucked the warning note into his coat pocket without reading it. He was not worried. No army, he believed, would dare cross an icy river on a night like this. He had never met George Washington. The crossing began just after dark. Colonel Henry Knox, a big man with a booming voice, organized the boats. They were wide, flat-bottomed Durham boats, built for hauling iron ore, now loaded with soldiers, horses, and heavy cannons. The men pushed off with long poles, dodging the grinding ice. The river groaned around them. Spray froze on their faces. Washington himself crossed in one of the first boats. He stood at the bow, watching the far shore. A young soldier named James Monroe was nearby, shivering in his thin coat. Washington turned and spoke quietly to his men. "Hold on, boys," he said. "We are almost across." Those simple words meant everything. It took three hours to get everyone across. By the time the last boat scraped the far shore, it was nearly three in the morning and sleet was driving sideways. Washington had hoped to attack before dawn, but now they were behind. He looked at his officers. Every face was exhausted. Every face was watching him. "Press on," Washington said. They marched nine miles through the storm. Men wrapped rags around their feet. They leaned into the wind and kept moving. At dawn, just as a grey light crept over the rooftops of Trenton, Washington split his force and attacked from two sides at once. The Hessians stumbled out of their warm houses, confused and unprepared. Colonel Rall rushed into the street trying to rally his men, but it was too late. Washington's cannons roared. His soldiers swept through every lane and alley. In less than an hour, it was over. Nearly a thousand enemy soldiers were captured. Not a single American soldier died in the battle itself. When they found Colonel Rall, the unread warning note was still in his pocket. The news spread like wildfire through the colonies. Washington had done the impossible. He had crossed an unpassable river in an impossible storm and won. Soldiers who had been ready to quit signed up again. Towns that had lost hope began to hope once more. Years later, people would say that Trenton was the night America decided it would not give up. And on that cold Christmas morning, as the sun finally broke through the clouds and turned the snow to gold, Washington looked out over his tired, proud, barefoot army and knew something was different now. They had not just won a battle. They had won back their belief. And that, more than any cannon or sword, is what wins a war.