It was nearly eight o’clock when General Washington reigned in his horse a mile outside of Trenton. By the side of the road, a man was chopping wood. He stopped chopping and looked at the tall man in uniform at the head of a column of troops that stretched out behind him back into the trees.

“You be General Washin’ton?” the man asked.

“I am sir.”

“I heard you was on the ‘tother side of the river”.

“Not any more. Where are they?”

“Where are who?” the farmer asked.

“The Hessians sir. Where are the enemy?” the general asked mildly, in an act of self control.

“Over there in the coopers shop” said the farmer pointing to a shed several hundred yards away. Just then a man, in a hessian officers uniform stepped from the shed. He stretched and looked about, and then saw a column emerging from the wood.

“Der Feind, der feind” he cried and ran towards the shed.

“Mr. Hand,” shouted the General.

“Here, sir” said a nearby officer.

“Take your men and assault that position.”

The battle of Trenton had begun.