It began to hail and snow as the troops commenced their march, and increased in violence as they advanced, the storm driving the sleet in their faces. So bitter was the cold that two of the men were frozen to death that night. The day dawned by the time Sullivan halted at the cross-road. It was discovered that the storm had rendered many of the muskets wet and useless. “What is to be done?” inquired Sullivan of St. Clair. “You have nothing for it but to push on, and use the bayonet,” was the reply. While some of the soldiers were endeavoring to clear their muskets, and squibbing off priming, Sullivan despatched an officer to apprise the commander-in-chief of the condition of their arms. He came back half-dismayed by an indignant burst of Washington, who ordered him to return instantly and tell General Sullivan to “advance and charge.” It was about eight o’clock when Washington’s column arrived in the vicinity of the village. The storm, which had rendered the march intolerable, had kept every one within doors, and the snow had deadened the tread of the troops and the rumbling of the artillery. As they approached the village, Washington, who was in front, came to a man that was chopping wood by the roadside, and inquired, “Which way is the Hessian picket?” “I don’t know,” was the surly reply. “You may tell,” said Captain Forest of the artillery, “for that is General Washington.” The aspect of the man changed in an instant. Raising his hands to heaven, “God bless and prosper you!” cried he. “The picket is in that house, and the sentry stands near that tree.”[157] The advance guard was led by a brave young officer, Captain William A. Washington, seconded by Lieutenant James Monroe (in after years President of the United States). They received orders to dislodge the picket. Here happened to be stationed the very lieutenant whose censures of the negligence of Colonel Rahl we have just quoted. By his own account, he was very near being entrapped in the guard-house. His sentries, he says, were not alert enough; and had he not stepped out of the picket house himself and discovered the enemy, they would have been upon him before his men could scramble to their arms. “Der feind! der feind! heraus! heraus!” (the enemy! the enemy! turn out! turn out!) was now the cry. He at first, he says, made a stand, thinking he had a mere marauding party to deal with; but seeing heavy battalions at hand, gave way, and fell back upon a company stationed to support the picket; but which appears to have been no better prepared against surprise.