twice a week.
Washington liked Scammel and asked him how the men were. He wanted the truth.
Well enough, Scammel replied.
Washington said that they were all well enough, since they were still alive. But how well? How many sick?
There were less than a hundred in carts, Scammel replied. The rest were walking.
Clothes?
Charlie Lee, Scammel began.
Charlie Leeâno, the commander in chief frowned. General Lee. He was still a general officer.
He had made them wash their clothes every fortnight. General Lee had commandeered eleven hundred jackets with scrip. Most of the men had shoes. There were four hundred Rhode Island soldiers, and some of them were so seedy they walked barefoot out of preference, even in winter time, with no more sense about things than a red Indian.
Washington wanted to know what Scammel thought about Charlie Lee, and Scammel said that he didnât like him, but he could not fault him for being an officer. It was just the man who was lacking. Then Washington said he wanted Scammel and Sullivan and every damned officer to be dressed in clean linen as white as snow, and how they washed and dried it out in this weather was their problem, not his; but he would have them skinned if their shirts or jabots were dirty. He wanted uniforms stitched and pressed, no torn coats, no bare heads. He wanted them in wigs, powdered, boots blackened, swords shining, and then he wanted the whole damned army, two thousand strong, to come marching down the Delaware River Road as if they hadnât a care in the world.
And as Scammel regarded him incredulously, Washington asked, did they have drums? Fifes? Trumpets?
Four trumpets, seven fifes, maybe twenty drums.
The Virginian wanted music, good, badâhe couldnât care less, so long as it was loud and strong.
[2]
SO ON DECEMBER 20, 1776, John Sullivan and Alexander Scammelâboth in clean shirts, decent coats, black boots, cocked hats, both sporting real epaulets, polished sword hilts, both prancing their horses in real smart style and both followed by a fine flurry of fife and drumâled two thousand Continental troops who came marching to join the army on the Delaware. General Washington had lined up his own men along the road, and when Sullivanâs troops came stepping smartly along, the Continentals broke into the first heady cheer in many a long month, yahooing and yelling âRazza-doodle-doo for Rhode Island!â, for there were four hundred smart Rhode Island lads, all in knee-length hunting shirts, all of them armed with big Brown Betsys, the English-made muskets that couldnât shoot straight but held a long bayonet.
And then there was a surprise. Sullivan and Scammel were grinning as they watched the tall Virginian as he stood up high in his saddle and saw behind Sullivanâs two thousand men, eight or nine hundred more, led by General Horatio Gates and Colonel Benedict Arnold. They had all come in together, and now his own Continentals broke ranks, screaming; and Sullivanâs men and Gatesâs men also broke ranks. And there was embracing and wrestling and kissing and weeping, as brothers and cousins and even fathers and sons found each other.
Washingtonâs own eyes were wet, and he could not have spoken then. He had three thousand more men in his army now, and the news ran like wildfire, south to Philadelphia and Baltimore, and north to the British. The agent was Mr. Hovenden, and he reported to the British:
That the main body of the army lies at Beaumonts between Telits and Baqers ferry about eleven miles above Trenton ferry commanded by General Washington and Lord Stirling. That a party of about three thousand men under General Sullivan had joined General Washington and it was said that they were immediately to march and make their quarters at Newtown. That of this number more than two hundred sick and wounded invalids were arrived at the hospital at Newtown. A party of two hundred or three hundred men are
Washington liked Scammel and asked him how the men were. He wanted the truth.
Well enough, Scammel replied.
Washington said that they were all well enough, since they were still alive. But how well? How many sick?
There were less than a hundred in carts, Scammel replied. The rest were walking.
Clothes?
Charlie Lee, Scammel began.
Charlie Leeâno, the commander in chief frowned. General Lee. He was still a general officer.
He had made them wash their clothes every fortnight. General Lee had commandeered eleven hundred jackets with scrip. Most of the men had shoes. There were four hundred Rhode Island soldiers, and some of them were so seedy they walked barefoot out of preference, even in winter time, with no more sense about things than a red Indian.
Washington wanted to know what Scammel thought about Charlie Lee, and Scammel said that he didnât like him, but he could not fault him for being an officer. It was just the man who was lacking. Then Washington said he wanted Scammel and Sullivan and every damned officer to be dressed in clean linen as white as snow, and how they washed and dried it out in this weather was their problem, not his; but he would have them skinned if their shirts or jabots were dirty. He wanted uniforms stitched and pressed, no torn coats, no bare heads. He wanted them in wigs, powdered, boots blackened, swords shining, and then he wanted the whole damned army, two thousand strong, to come marching down the Delaware River Road as if they hadnât a care in the world.
And as Scammel regarded him incredulously, Washington asked, did they have drums? Fifes? Trumpets?
Four trumpets, seven fifes, maybe twenty drums.
The Virginian wanted music, good, badâhe couldnât care less, so long as it was loud and strong.
[2]
SO ON DECEMBER 20, 1776, John Sullivan and Alexander Scammelâboth in clean shirts, decent coats, black boots, cocked hats, both sporting real epaulets, polished sword hilts, both prancing their horses in real smart style and both followed by a fine flurry of fife and drumâled two thousand Continental troops who came marching to join the army on the Delaware. General Washington had lined up his own men along the road, and when Sullivanâs troops came stepping smartly along, the Continentals broke into the first heady cheer in many a long month, yahooing and yelling âRazza-doodle-doo for Rhode Island!â, for there were four hundred smart Rhode Island lads, all in knee-length hunting shirts, all of them armed with big Brown Betsys, the English-made muskets that couldnât shoot straight but held a long bayonet.
And then there was a surprise. Sullivan and Scammel were grinning as they watched the tall Virginian as he stood up high in his saddle and saw behind Sullivanâs two thousand men, eight or nine hundred more, led by General Horatio Gates and Colonel Benedict Arnold. They had all come in together, and now his own Continentals broke ranks, screaming; and Sullivanâs men and Gatesâs men also broke ranks. And there was embracing and wrestling and kissing and weeping, as brothers and cousins and even fathers and sons found each other.
Washingtonâs own eyes were wet, and he could not have spoken then. He had three thousand more men in his army now, and the news ran like wildfire, south to Philadelphia and Baltimore, and north to the British. The agent was Mr. Hovenden, and he reported to the British:
That the main body of the army lies at Beaumonts between Telits and Baqers ferry about eleven miles above Trenton ferry commanded by General Washington and Lord Stirling. That a party of about three thousand men under General Sullivan had joined General Washington and it was said that they were immediately to march and make their quarters at Newtown. That of this number more than two hundred sick and wounded invalids were arrived at the hospital at Newtown. A party of two hundred or three hundred men are
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