The General's Christmas by C. Metzinger

agreement, but
calculated that the men had now been marching over 13 hours with
only a brief stop at the river. He feared they would be too
exhausted to fight or their fingers too numb to fill their muskets
with ball and powder when the time came. No one had gloves or
mittens, and warm coats and boots were scarce. Yet they marched on
through this blizzard with a determination that matched his
own.
    Suddebly, a shout came from
the rear.
    "Wheel broken! A six-pounder!"
    Greene glanced at Washington and shook his
head, "Another one of Colonel Knox's designs, no doubt. I'll see to
it."
    Washington nodded and stayed at the front of
the regiment.
    The cannon was a six-pounder on a carriage
designed by Henry Knox. They were faster and lighter than regular
carriages, but the wheels were not as durable.
    "We should've put these things on sleds!" one
of the men shouted as they lifted the carriage to remove the broken
wheel. A few laughed at the idea while another wheel was brought
from a supply wagon and replaced.
    "I'll give that suggestion to Colonel Knox,"
Greene assured them.
    Soon the carriage was back on the road and
the army continued to march. Greene rode along the column, making
sure that the men stayed in formation and kept up the pace.
    When Greene told Knox the man's joke about
putting the cannon on sleds, Know didn't laugh, but frowned and
stroked his chin thoughtfully, saying, "Sleds? Aye, now there's a
thought! I wonder..."
    On their journey, strong
windy gusts of nearly 50 miles per hour threatened to drive them
down to the ground. When the gusts diminished, they plodded on.
Walking through deep snow was arduous, and some men fell
behind.
    One older man stumbled and fell. Two others
attempted to help him up.
    "I can't do it!" the older man cried
piteously, "I can't go on!"
    His legs buckled and he went down again. One
of the others grabbed his arm and pulled at him, shouting, "You'd
better, or you'll freeze to death! Keep moving!"
    They dragged the exhausted
soldier to his feet. Another man took his back pack.
    "Here, I'll carry this until you can get your
strength back."
    The older man gave a toothless grin.
    "Bless you, Brother!"
    "Merry Christmas!" replied the other with a
smile.
     
    The troops came to a wide
gully. At the bottom lay Jacob's Creek, which fed into the
Delaware. The path ahead was a steep downward slope, an ice-covered
creek at the bottom, and a steep rise up the other side. The first
men who came down the path started to slide. Some fell and others
slid to the bottom by the seats of their pants. Horses stepped
gingerly through the snow-covered icy road, sometimes sliding out
of control. Riders shouted, "Whoa! Hold on there!"
    Washington noted the precipice before him and
guided his horse carefully along the bank of the slope.
    "There's a steep path down to the creek," he
informed the men as they marched along the upper bank, "Watch your
step as you go down. Stay together!" he urged them.
    Suddenly, his horse threw
back his head and whinnied in fear as the snowy edge of the bank
gave way, and the animal slid out of control. Washington leaned
forward in his saddle, crying "Whoa!" pulling the mare's head up.
He maneuvered the horse sideways to keep it from falling headlong
down the hill.
    "Sir!" Greene shouted from the top of the hill. He watched in horror
as the Commander in Chief struggled to keep his horse from falling.
Everyone stopped to watch, holding their breath, waiting for the
worst to happen. Suddenly, Washington righted himself in the saddle
and his horse's feet found solid ground. The animal was hesitant to
move, but Washington gently coaxed him back up the bank while
everyone released a sigh of relief.
    Corporal Baylor rode to the general's
side.
    "Are you all right,
sir?"
    "Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Washington
replied, not feeling as confident as he sounded.
    "That was a near thing, Sir!
If you'd fallen-"
    "Yes, I know, Corporal. You'd have another
body to carry home tonight. Warn the