The General's Christmas by C. Metzinger Page B

Flames
engulfed the living room, blocking the front door. Anna lifted her
sister off the floor as far as she could and dragged her quickly
through the flames.
    Once outside, she stamped
out the flames on her skirt, then inspected her own clothing,
brushing off glowing sparks. Anna feared that her sister was dead.
She sighed with relief when she detected mists of warm breath.Anna
stroked her sister's hair and gently touched the ugly red welts
upon her cheeks. Anna took off her cloak and covered her sister.
She cradled the girl in her arms, rocking her gently, bursting into
tears, crying,
    "My poor girl! You're safe now, you're
safe!"
     
     

Chapter 2

    "Corporal Baylor!" a deep voice called.
    George Baylor lay down his
writing quill and went into George Washington's "office", a large
table in the home of Widow Harris, who lived in a two-story,
wood-framed colonial house near the Delaware River.
    "Sir?" Baylor addressed
him.
    "When the messenger comes, see that these
letters are delivered immediately. And I shall need a reply
forthwith."
    "Yes, Sir."
    "And tell General Greene that I'd like to
speak with him."
    "Yes, Sir," Baylor nodded
and left the house to find the colonel and the
messenger.
    George Washington ducked slightly as he
returned through the door to his wooden table before the hearth. A
tall man of six foot three, and solidly built, he sat down
gracefully and sighed. Looking out the window, he watched campfire
smoke climbing lazily into the metallic sky. Bare black branches
crawled like spider veins toward clouds, heavy with rain or
snow.
    The scene before him was a
landscape in sepia brown and gray. The solemn silence, broken only
by the crackle of his warming fire, accompanied his grim mood. He
watched the men huddled around fires. Some wore blankets, some wore
shoes held together by rags, and others had rags tied around their
bare feet with bare toes sticking out. Most wore scraggly beards
and scarves tied over their heads against the December
wind.
    He pondered the sacrifices
they were making. Other men had chosen to stay home with their
families, close to hearth and domestic bliss, away from the
bone-chilling cold, away from the haggard faces with sunken cheeks,
and anxiety-filled eyes. His force was not experienced, nor was it
strong or well-supplied. Although they lacked arms and supplies,
they compensated with an abundance of heart; the heart to fight for
freedom and the willingness to endure. The strength of their
determination would decide their fate.
    Washington knew that his
army could not be victorious in a full assault against the
well-stocked, professional, experienced soldiers of the Crown. But
if his army could be the dogged pack of wolves at their heels,
attacking in the dark, hiding and attacking again and again,
picking off the officers, leading the enemy into rugged and
unfamiliar territory, he might outrun them. At some point, British
Parliament would see the folly of maintaining an army that couldn’t
crush this rebel force in an all-out battle. They would give up and
go home. That was his best hope of defeating them.
    Defeat at New York, at
Brooklyn Heights, at White Plains, and the surrender of Fort
Washington had weakened the Americans' resolve. Their morale was so
low that many were counting down the days until their tour of duty
expired at the end of the month. British General William Howe had
announced a full pardon to any American soldier who lay down his
arms and went home. Some had already taken that offer, not waiting
until their term expired. They were hungry, cold, and hadn't been
paid in months. Congress was slow responding to his pleas for money
and supplies. The troops in New Jersey and Maryland were less than
supportive to the cause, and as a result, the Colonists suffered
the consequences.
    A gust of frigid air ushered in the corporal
and his letters.
    "Here are your new messages,
sir," Baylor announced, "And General Greene is on his
way."
    "Very good. Be so kind as to
tell