President Monroe Remembers the Crossing of the Delaware

We rank and file were kept ignorant. It was not for us to contemplate the meaning of war. We only knew its motions: "walk," "at ease," "to arms."

And we knew it would be a miserable night. The wind wailed; the sleet stung; the snow chilled to the bone. The Delaware ran black and fathomless as the Styx. Ice gnawed at its banks.

We crossed slowly and silently in the Durham boats and learned our mission on the other side: a surprise attack on Trenton at dawn.

As I prepared to march, I glimpsed our General stooped over a fire, his cloak wrapped close about him. Sometimes he watched the boats' progression, sometimes the fire. Flurries tumbled into the flames, evaporating with a puff and hiss. Destiny weighed heavily on his snow-dusted shoulders. His thoughts were of the motions and meanings of war.

His officers gathered around him. General Washington spoke, but I heard not, for he spoke softly, even in those days. It was General Knox who replied, "My dear General, the Rubicon was crossed in July. The die was cast long before this night. There is no turning back, remember: victory or death."

That "or" cast over me like a shadow, for I was grievously wounded at Trenton. But I lived. We were victorious. I have carried the scar and these affecting memories with me all my life. For those men and this country, I would brave it all again - the snow, the bullet, the long night.