There was some unease this morning at the Conference Table. Miles was late, thinking the talk about the coming snow north of the Maryland line would be covered by the graphic Splash did yesterday about being a soldier without boots when your commanding General decides to cross the Delaware River.

Turns out he was wrong about that, and the discussion of what the attack on Christmas Day meant to the founding of our Nation. Which started things off again. There were a couple GenZ’s who were hoping to get credit for publication, and they had no idea what the river crossing was about. Splash helped them out, the gray of his beard showing from a failure to shave that morning.

“Washington crossed the Delaware River on a Christmas Day a long time ago.” He crossed his arms across his ample chest and leaned back in the chair he had decorated with a ragged quilt.

Melissa waited to see if there was more, but Splash considered his summation adequate. Eddie and Delese were a little edgy, since that would make their contribution unlikely to compete for the monthly participation prize that came with some of those gummie-things the Boomers use to control arthritic pain.

Shr glanced both ways along the table at the people drinking hazelnut coffee in an attempt to get with the program. “Do you want the rest of the story?” she asked. Delese was the most awake at the table and she laughed. “So, they went kind of light on Revolutionary War history at W.T. Woodson High School when I went there. I thought Washington needed to get someplace, and he put his army in boats, crossed a river in the winter.”

Melissa frowned and slapped the polished mahogany of the table firmly enough to make her mug shiver. “I am surprised they haven’t turned the story around to criticize our First President for not being falr to the Germans across the River and making them fight on a holiday.”

“So, what was the deal?” asked Eddie. I have seen that picture of Washington in the bow of a boat looking kind of heroic. Crossing a river normally means “hang on” down in Culpeper County.

Rocket looked a Melissa and made one of his swooping gestures. “Let me keep it short, like Miles keeps reminding me. The King had dispatched regular troops to the Colonies to enforce his laws and edicts. The Rebels responded by mobilizing and fought with some valor in Massachusetts, but the tide had turned against them. The initial must period was running out and supplies were running low as the Rebel forces faced a winter in the field and began to pack up to go home. The British brought in some mercenary troops from Hessia in Germany to minimize inconvenience to the Royal Regulars.”

“So, they were dug in and preparing for Winter Quarters in Trenton,” said Melissa. “And with Christmas Day coming on with some fir trees as was their custom. Time to rest from the campaign season.”

Which is why crossing the river wasn’t the big deal. It was the only deal Washington thought might save the rebellion. Some of his troops didn’t even have boots, and some were barefoot in the snow.”

Delese shook her head. “I had no idea it was such a near thing. If Washington had gone into winter quarters to try to get food and equipment for his men and enlistments ran out, by Spring the Red Coats would have swept up whoever was left under the banner.”

Splash nodded and Rocket raised a fist next to his ear. “Instead, Washington roused up his lieutenants and told them to get everyone who could move, war boots or not, and they were going to strike the force of fourteen hundred Germans just rousing for services Christmas morning.”

The kids looked a little surprised as Rocket made a flourish with right arm upraised. “Which did not turn out quite as their Colonel Johan Rahl expected.”

At Trenton, he trusted the season. Christmas meant pause. Winter meant pause. Distance meant safety. Anyone who’s stood midwatch at 0200 knows that assumption—the quiet that convinces you nothing will happen now.” Traffic outside the big window was slow on the Last Weekend of the 2025.

Melissa shook her long tawny locks. “Washington didn’t have the luxury of waiting. Some of his men had no winter clothing. No boots. Feet wrapped in rags bled into the snow. To ride was to leave the column. To stop was to freeze. The order—understood by anyone who’s ever waited out weather, politics, or relief that didn’t come—was simple: hold together and keep moving.

Eddie looked at Delese and shook his head. “I am not sure about marching in cold, bloody rags.”

Melissa got up to freshen her Hazelnut. “You should be glad there was a man of determination who was willing to risk everything including his life and fortune. And take his men with them to route the Germans on a peaceful morning.

“And save the Cause? Save the new nation against all odds and the most powerful nation on earth?”

“Yep. The attack was brief. Surprise total. The victory was small and decisive in only one way: it kept the effort alive.”

There was some nodding around the long table. Miles closed the meeting to get something on the wire before lunch. Given our times, we are going to hold together and keep things moving toward a brand-new year. But after lunch.

Copyright 2025 Vic Socotra

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