Last December, after his untrained troops had been chased out of New Jersey by the redcoats, George Washington could have been forgiven if he’d despaired. Two of his fellow generals—Lee, to whom he had entrusted the fortification of New York, and Gates, up the Hudson Valley, both of them British army officers who reckoned they knew more than he did—had lobbied hard to replace him. Even the untrained troops he had, having enlisted only for the calendar year, were likely to leave by the month’s end. Others weren’t even waiting, but deserting. Apart from a brief skirmish or two, his army had been humiliated, captured or chased away in every place. As the campaign season ended, what was left of his army were camped beyond the Delaware River, which was stoutly guarded on the other side by tough Hessian soldiers. Not appreciating Howe’s views on the aristocratic season for war, Washington feared that if the Delaware froze solid, the British commander might sweep south to cross it with his whole army.

“Whatever Howe does,” he told James, “we have to give some account of ourselves before our men depart.” Something had to be done to lift Patriot morale.

At least the Patriots had a talent for mounting raids. James had gone on several. They harassed the enemy, but they also provided information. There were plenty of American Loyalists in the area, aiding the Hessians. Without his having to do anything, the sight of James’s tall figure holding a pistol was enough to frighten most of these into talking, and one cowering farmer told him: “The Hessians have moved into Trenton now. About fourteen hundred of them. It’s quite open, no ramparts. Your own deserters have told them you mean to strike at them, but their commander refuses to build ramparts because he despises you.”

They hadn’t many troops—some five thousand men left, a third of them unfit for duty. But early in December two thousand of Lee’s men turned up, thank God, followed by five hundred from Gates, and a thousand more from Philadelphia. Still a modest force, but enough. Yet hardly well equipped. There was ammunition—every man had at least sixty rounds, and enough powder—but their uniforms were in a pitiful state. And many of the troops no longer had boots, and were marching through snow and ice with their feet wrapped only in cloth.

Notwithstanding these difficulties, the plan Washington hatched was daring. They would strike across the river—in midwinter and at night—and take the Hessians by surprise.