We lay down, in the fresh snow, and waited near the shore for the orders to begin our march. The crossing was taking far longer than expected. From what I overheard the officers say, it should have been completed by midnight, but now it was nigh to 4 in the morning.

The orders came and we formed up. The road from the landing lead inland and up an incline. If it had been warmer the mud would have made the going harder, as it was the frozen ground was firm below our feet. We marched in silence, so that the sound of neither fife nor drum would alert the enemy to our movements.

About a mile and a half from shore, we reached Bear Tavern. Eustace leaned in to me and said that he wouldn’t have minded stopping for a quick pint. I replied, in an equally low tone, that a gill of rum would warm the ice from my fingers and make the march a bit easier. Sergeant heard us and told us to keep quiet in the ranks, or the hessians would be the least of our worries that day.

We turned to the right and marched on.