Chapter 07 | The Biggest Battle of All
April 27, 1781 – While Wolfgang and the Ansbach Regiment continued to taste battle with their forays into New Jersey-fighting with great valor- the wheels of strategy were turning in the minds of leaders of both the British and American campaigns. Somehow, the Hessian soldiers knew that the leaders on both sides were tiring of war, and that food and military supplies were very low. They also sensed that General Clinton didn’t know where to send them. Wolfgang and his friends thought that they were sort of in a holding pattern, waiting for a big move.
They could not have been closer to the truth. General Washington for the Colonists, and General Rochambeau for the French, were conceiving a grand plan whereby all their forces would come together in Virginia at the same time, to defeat the British. Their maneuvers in New York were designed to fool the British General Clinton into thinking they were going to launch a major attack there, while all the time they were preparing for a march to the south. The Hessians were caught in the middle, almost being jerked around, waiting to go where they might be needed most.
General Clinton issued orders for them to leave Statton Island. But to where? First they anchored at Sandy Hook, New Jersey, then, after sailing for 7 days, 8 miles from Portsmouth. It was rumored that British General Cornwallis was going to set up a fort there, but somehow it didn’t happen. Then they sailed on the James River and in Chesapeake Bay, anchoring at various places around Williamsburg. Were they going to join Cornwallis there? Nobody seemed to know. Now they were anchored on the York River in Chesapeake Bay. What next?
Wilhelm was furious, and was pacing on the top deck. “Where are we going, and what are we going to do?” he said in desperation. “Yeah, lamented Ewalt, walking with him, “Sail there, anchor here… leave the next day, sail and anchor, and on and on ‘til I’m sick of it. Doesn’t anyone have a plan? I’m fed up with all this indecision.” They met Wolfgang, who they had talked with less often these days. He always seemed to be thinking of something else, and it was hard to get his undivided attention about anything. “ What do you think, Wolfie? What in the name of beezlebub are we doing?” Wolfgang, too, had felt unsettled by all of their moving around, seemingly without a goal. “Damned if I know, “ he said, “ It looks like General Clinton has been on the booze again.” “But why worry about it? It doesn’t do any good.”
About then, the sergeant came by and got their attention, “Get ready to sail tomorrow morning. We’re headed for Yorktown,” he said matter-of-factly, “I hear Cornwallis is setting up fortifications there, and needs the help of some good soldiers.” “But I don’t know why he’s looking at you jailbirds- you’ve not done a full days battle in your life.” With that, he left to carry his message to the bowels of the ship, and leave Wolfgang and his friends to talk among themselves.
They had heard enough to be a little leery of what might be coming next. But in their wildest dreams, it is doubtful that they could have conceived of what was in store for them. And that was probably for the best.
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Another letter from Maria had finally come. Wolfgang found himself so eager to read it that he almost destroyed it getting it out of the envelope. He knew it had been almost three years since he had left home, and there had been pitifully few letters sent and received. The ocean voyage took so long, and even when a letter might arrive aboard a ship, one never knew whether it would be lost or not, and if not, how long it would take it to get to a soldier who was moving about as much as Wolfgang. As Wolfgang held the letter in his trembling hands, he read the following:
My Dear Wolfgang,
It has been well over two years since you left us, and many things have changed since then. If you get this letter, I want you to know that Georg and Maria Magdalena are well, and are growing up. Maria just turned 15, and is becoming more independent and critical of her mother. But she is a beautiful girl, Wolfgang, and if I can keep her out of trouble, will someday make someone a fine wife. Georg is going on 14, and I worry that he, like you, will find too much pleasure in drink at an early age. However, as you might expect, he is a friendly boy, and does well with his studies. They both speak of you often.
As for me, I am getting by, but sometimes it seems just barely. At the end of some days, with all that is going on here. I am pretty weary. And I worry a lot about you, and that takes it out of me too. But the children help sometimes, and I don’t know what I’d do without our friends in the church. They are a Godsend, and are always asking if they can help.
Wolfgang, I haven’t had a letter from you for a long time. There is so much talk of the many Hessian soldiers who have died in battle, or who have deserted the British army to stay in America, that I often wonder if you are alive, or if you will ever come home. I know the war must be hard for you, but you have no idea how hard it is to raise two teenaged children all by yourself, and take care of a house on top of that. And the money you promised to send me has not come very often. Every Christmas, I think of what you said when you left, and wonder how long it will be.
I continue to rely on Ernst to do the things around the house that I have a hard time doing. And occasionally, I invite him to dinner, to repay him for all of his help. He has a funny bone in him, and makes them laugh. I don’t know what I would do without him. It’s been very hard here, Wolfgang, and I hope and pray that you will come back soon, before it is to late to enjoy life here with your family. Please write and tell me where you are and when we will see you again.
Your loving wife, Maria.
P.S. Have you met Ewalt yet? I still see his mother from time to time, and she asks about him.
Wolfgang lay for a long time, thinking about the letter, and what Maria had said. He couldn’t help but sense that his children were growing up and changing, and life in Ansbach was passing him by. A thought came to him that Maria Margareta was changing too, and that he would have to get reacquainted with her if he ever got home again. He was glad that she at least mentioned how difficult life might be for him, and was thinking about what he, too, was going through.
And he was resigned to the fact that the letter was colder than he would have wished, and that Maria was really appreciative of Ernst. Her closing, “Your loving wife,” seemed to somehow have a hollow ring to it. And the letter, to him, seemed to be so much like the last one he had received. In fact, Margareta asked about Ewalt again. And that reminded him to ask Ewalt again about his remark that he knew something about Margareta that he could’nt tell. What could that be, he wondered? The letter, thought Wolfgang, is several things, but reassuring it is not. But he knew he should send a return letter to show Maria he still cared. He began writing it, but was very tired, and fell asleep with the pencil in his hand.
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The next day, as they were working on their fortifications, Wolfgang was alone with Ewalt, and queried him about the “bad thing” he had alluded to earlier that he knew about Margaretta. Before, when this had come up, Ewalt had always refused to say anything more, going back to the idea that it was a secret between him and Margaretta that he was pledged to keep.
But this time was different. Perhaps it was because Ewalt was thinking about the massive battle that was coming up, and the possibility that all of them would be killed. For whatever reason, Ewalt seemed to feel that, if his life might be ended, Wolfgang deserved to know.
Wolfgang listened in amazement and unbelief as Ewalt related how he, as a teenager, had gone to Otto Helmut’s stable late one evening to look for a money pouch he thought he had dropped when working there that day. As he entered the stable, he heard strange noises coming from one of the empty stalls in the back. He opened the gate to the stall and was shocked to find Margareta and Heintz Braun scrambling to put on their clothes, and heavily involved in an angry interchange.
And Ewalt had heard he mother saying several months later that Helga Muller, the midwife, had confided in her that she had delivered Margareta’s premature, but alive baby. Ewalt’s revelation was unbelievable to Wolfgang, and it contributed greatly to his high state of confusion about Margareta. Had she been familiar with other boys? Was she being untrue to him with Ernst in his absence? Could he believe her? With all these questions swirling around in his head, he avoided writing the letter, and took his mind off of Ewalt’s report and Margareta by immersing himself in preparation for battle.
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October 9, 1781- The two Ansbach regiments were in place, looking out over redoubts 3, 4, and 5. They were dug in behind their fortifications, and ready to repulse the American and French forces, that had been setting up their defenses and canons for several days. Now shots were beginning to be fired, and the battle of Yorktown had begun.
Wolfgang and his friends, who, along with him, were ready to fight, but were also deeply afraid for their lives. The rumor was that the Americans and French had 20,000 troops, while General Cornwallis for the British had only 9500. Even if the numbers weren’t quite true, Wolfgang knew that the British and Hessian troops were very tired, some of them sick, and supplies were getting harder and harder to get, given the superiority of the French Battleships that now commanded Chesapeake Bay.
And now, with their backs against water controlled by the enemy, they were being attacked in front by large forces from land. So with Yorktown and the bay to their back, and French and American forces mobilizing in front of them, there were many grim faces as the cannon balls flew overhead.
As they worked feverishly to shore up the defenses-digging trenches, piling up barricades of trees, and piling mounds of dirt, Wolfgang, Ewalt, and Wilhelm worked side-by-side. “My God,” shouted Ewalt, as a large cannonball flew past them and tore open a supply tent just behind the lines. Wilhelm, somehow already impervious to the threats the continued bombardment posed for his life, took mental note of the irony of Ewalt, the atheist, invoking God’s name in a moment of fear. Wilhelm had been praying continuously as the enemy rained cannonball after cannonball on the British and Hessian locations. He had placed himself in God’s hands and even in this moment of extreme danger, somehow felt at peace.
Wolfgang’s whole being was jolted as he watched, almost as if in slow motion, and in total disbelief, as a cannonball flew through the air and struck Wilhelm directly in his right side. Its impact hurtled Wilhelm’s body through the air, with blood spewing out in all directions. The medics and everyone nearby rushed to Wilhelm’s mangled body, and looked for signs of life.
Unfortunately none were to be found. His body had no defense against a 36-pound cannon ball. Wilhelm, Wolfgang’s friend for the past 3 and more years, was dead. Wolfgang was overcome with a surge of grief, intermingled with intense anger. Why Wilhelm? He was the one whose faith had been strongest, who was always willing to help others, and who had the respect of all who knew him. This damned war, thought Wolfgang, with tears streaming down his face. Why did it have to come to this?
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With the enemy often no more than 600 yards away, and with the intense barrage of bombs and cannonballs incessantly pounding the troops, the casualties began to mount, and desertions beginning to increase. Wolfgang felt terrible about losing Wilhelm, but he had little time to sit and ponder it. Munitions supplies, earlier carried from the British ships, were beginning to run low, and since it was very difficult for British ships to get past the French ships in the harbor, the situation did not look good.
After three more days of the American and French shelling, the constant barrage of bombs, cannonballs, and howitzer was so heavy that the British command, with the Hessian soldiers could hardly hold up against it. Even the ships in the harbor were totally destroyed. Wolfgang, Ewalt, and Conrad stuck together, trying to stay protected behind the defenses, but ready to repel the onslaught of an attack against their lines.
It was an agonizing time, and hope seemed to be making way for despair. A bomb had fallen earlier that day into the Ansbach camp, and had killed four soldiers in a tent. Several other soldiers had had feet, arms, or legs shot off by pieces of shrapnel, and some legs were amputated.
It was on the evening of October 16, that the fear Wolfgang and his friends were experiencing turned to horror. Amid the terrible barrage, Sergeant Kuester came running along the line of soldiers, shouting “That son-of-a-bitch Cornwallis is retreating with his brigades, and leaving us Ansbachers as the rear guard, so he can escape! Tarleton sent some boats, and Cornwallis and his troops are heading for them now! They’re goin’ over to Glouchester to escape by land. We’re the sacrificial lambs! There’s no way in hell we can stand up for very long against all the rebel forces. But hold fast, men! Give it all you have!”
Wolfgang, tying a bandage around a slash in his arm where some shrapnel had just hit him, found his mind racing. He thought about his home in Ansbach, and his wife and children. Why did I do it, he thought? Why did I leave them to come to this God-awful place to get killed? And he couldn’t stifle thoughts about Ellie, and about how he had felt when he was with her. He thought about death, about Karl and Wilhelm.
And, amazingly, he found himself praying to God! He completely surprised himself. It wasn’t just a desperate plea for his guardian angel, but a straight talk with God. And surprisingly, he didn’t pray for his life, but rather for the important others in his life, and for courage to see this through, no matter what happened.
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Call it an opportune visit from that Guardian Angel, or just God answering Wolfgang’s prayers, but after a night of continuous return of fire, of making as much noise as possible to make the rebels think there were many more troops opposing them than were, what seemed like a miracle happened.
As quickly as he had left, Cornwallis returned with his troops. He had sent about about 1000 men on boats to Glouchester, but a major storm came up, and the next wave of boats, one carrying Cornwallis, could not cross. Finally, he recalled the first group, and returned to the battle lines. The Ansbachers were saved! At least for now.
Wolfgang felt that he was back on that ship in the high winds, with all the ups and downs. He didn’t know whether to rejoice or to wallow in despair. They were still confronted by an enemy that was much stronger, and time was running out. But with the British troops back, he and his friend suddenly found new hope. Maybe they could still prevail.
“What’s that?” shouted Conrad, amid the noise of the cannonballs whistling by. “It looks like a flag of truce,” exclaimed Ewalt, “ I think Cornwallis is surrendering!” Wolfgang, in his heart, knew that surrender was probably the only thing left, but had not been able to accept it. But suddenly, he felt a great rush of relief. At least the life of he and his friends would be spared, even though he would probably become a prisoner.
His sergeant ordered the men to destroy the new tents, and a lot of other equipment, so that supplies of any sort would not fall into the hands of the enemy. As the hours passed, rumors flew throughout the camp. But by mid-afternoon the shooting suddenly stopped, and everyone knew that the end of this gigantic battle had come.