Once Upon a Time in Delaware
Copyright© 2024 by Katharine Pyle
The Blue Hen’s Chickens Went To War.
WAR had begun, —war between the United Colonies of America, with their small, poorly armed forces, and England, the richest and most powerful country in the world.
From all the thirteen colonies of America, regiments marched away to join General Washington and the little army he had already gathered together.
Delaware sent her regiment with the rest. It was under the command of Colonel John Haslet. Men had come from all over the state to enlist in it. They carried whatever weapons they could get, —rifles, carbines, muskets or fowling pieces. A few of them had uniforms, but some of them had not even coats, and so came in their shirt sleeves.
The regiment set out from Dover to the sound of fife and drum. Their flag waved gaily over them and the people crowded the streets, and waved and cheered to see them go.
It was a long, hot march from Dover up to New York, where General Washington was encamped. The soldiers soon grew footsore and weary, marching, as they did, from early dawn till night. Sometimes when they passed a stream they broke ranks to kneel on its bank and drink the cool, running water. Sometimes the farmers came out and handed them summer fruits and vegetables as they passed, and as they went through the towns the people cheered and waved their handkerchiefs to them.
At last they reached New York, but they had no sooner arrived than the whole regiment was ordered to cross the river and join General Stirling’s brigade in Brooklyn. Stirling was expecting an attack from the British at any time, and he needed all the troops he could get.
Before the regiment had left Delaware, Colonel Haslet had begun to drill them, and as soon as they were settled in Brooklyn the drill began again. The men were kept at it until their bones ached and they were ready to drop with weariness, but it was this constant drilling that brought the Delaware regiment into shape, and afterward won for it the name of “the picked regiment of the Colonial Army.”
One evening when the men were resting around the fires, one of their comrades came out from a tent carrying two game-cocks by the legs. Somehow he had managed to bring them up from Delaware with him. They were of a bluish grey color, and were of a breed well known in Kent County, and called “Blue Game Chickens.”
When the soldiers saw the two cocks they shouted for joy. “A chicken-fight! A chicken-fight!” they cried. “We’ll have a chicken-fight. Where did you get them Bill?”
Bill threw the cocks into the middle of the ring. For a moment they stood looking about with their bright eyes. Then they lowered their heads and ruffled their feathers. The next moment they flew at each other and fought furiously but before they could injure each other they were separated and shut up in boxes.
“That’s the way we’ve got to fight,” cried Bill. “We’re sons of the old Blue Hen, and we’re game to the end.”
“That’s what we are,” shouted the others. “We’re the Blue Hen’s Chickens, the fighting breed.” And from that night that was the name by which the plucky Delaware regiment went—The Blue Hen’s Chickens.
The Delaware regiment was soon to prove its courage. It was August twenty-seventh, about five days after they had arrived in Brooklyn, that they first went under fire.
On the twenty-sixth, General Stirling had received news that the next morning the British meant to attack his forces. They would begin the attack very early.
It was not yet light when the Delaware regiment, shivering with excitement, was marched out, and stationed near an orchard. In this orchard the Maryland regiment was placed but just where the British troops were they did not know.
It was too dark to see anything at first, but there were sounds that made them know that somewhere there in the darkness, the enemy was moving and marching. Presently, a faint light began to show in the sky. There were shots in the distance. Then they saw through the growing light a great dark moving mass opposite to them. Nearer and nearer it came, and now they could see long lines of the Hessians; the light glittered on the brass fronts of their immense caps.
They were coming!
The Maryland and Delaware regiments opened fire, and here and there they saw a Hessian throw up his arms and fall, but immediately the ranks filled up, and on they came at a steady, quick step. The Delaware regiment had found some shelter behind an old fence.
“Fix bayonets!” There was a rattle and clash as the bayonets of the Delawares slipped into place. “Forward, charge!” Out from their shelter sprang the Delaware soldiers. They charged upon the Hessians, but they were met by such a steady front that for a moment they wavered. Then (we are told) a captain of Smallwood’s company sprang forward and caught the Delaware flag from the flag bearer; he flung it over into the midst of the Hessian regiment.
A long roar followed as the Delaware men flung themselves forward, mad to recover their flag. Before that fierce rush, the Hessians wavered and broke; they tried to recover and then turned and fled, and again the flag of Delaware waved over the heads of the Blue Hen’s Chickens.
The Maryland regiment had also charged, and now they and the Delaware soldiers stood drawn up on a hill. The guns of the enemy were turned upon them, but their colors were flying. Other regiments of the American army had been forced to retreat, but these gallant little bands did not think of quitting their place. At last an express order came from the General commanding them to retreat. Then, and not till then, they fell back. Their flags were almost cut to pieces with shot, but the Delaware regiment retreated in such good order that they lost but few men. The Marylanders were not so lucky, as many of them were taken prisoners or killed.
This victory seemed to satisfy the British for the time. They took up their quarters in Trenton and then they led a merry life, feasting and drinking. They stole as they liked from all the country round, and the poor country people were helpless. If they resisted they were shot down like dogs.
So the autumn and the first part of December passed. Upon the other side of the river from Trenton, the American forces were encamped. December was bitterly cold. Many of our men had no shoes. Food and blankets were scarce. The men kept the fires going day and night.
The day before Christmas, word was passed through the American encampment that on Christmas morning they would cross the river and attack the English. The men cheered when they heard that news.
Christmas day dawned cold and dark and snowy. In the chill morning the men were marched, company after company, down to the flat boats that lay on the river, and were rowed over to the other side. Men and horses huddled together, trying to get some warmth from each other. The bitter wind whistled past their ears, and the sleet cut their faces.
On the Trenton side the troops were landed, and then began a seven miles tramp through the snow. The men struggled through the drifts, blinded by the sleet. Their hands were almost frozen to their muskets.
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