It was near the Brandywine that the army encamped. In the next few days soldiers might often be seen kneeling on the edge of the stream to wash their pieces of clothing. Their voices echoed through the woods in loud jokes and laughter. Sometimes a trooper in buff and blue brought a dozen clattering horses down to the water to drink. Washington was busy sending and receiving dispatches, riding out to explore the country, and deciding where the best points were upon which to place his army. By September the second, our army had been moved to the high lands near Newport, a few miles from Wilmington. In the afternoon of that day orders were given to cook provisions and to be ready to march at any time. The enemy were then near Newark, Delaware, but Washington had not yet been able to learn how many there were of them, nor where they meant to attack. However he sent a light corps (of about seven hundred and twenty men) down in their direction. These men were to hide in the woods and hollows, and to act as outposts in case the British marched toward Newark. It was the next day, September the third, that the British began to advance toward White Clay creek,—a creek which lay between them and the Americans. For some miles above Newark the road was open, with fields and meadows on either hand, and the British marched along it undisturbed. But when the road dipped into the woods, the bullets began to sing about their ears like bees. Several of the British were wounded, for the American riflemen had hidden in the thickets and hollows of the woods and were shooting at them. The Americans were so well hidden that the British scarcely knew where to turn their fire. Some of the British companies left the road to look for them but got lost in a swamp, and had difficulty in finding their way back to firm ground. For some miles this fire continued, but by the time the British had reached the Christiana creek, near Cooch’s Mill, the shots had almost stopped. The bridge across the stream lay still and peaceful in the sunlight. There was no sound but the ripple of the water against the rocks, and a cow lowing in the distance. The first company of the English had hardly set foot on the bridge however, when a hot fire of bullets poured out at them from the thickets beside the stream. A company of American riflemen had been lying there in ambush, and waiting for them. A moment later the Americans sprang out into the road with cheers, and charged upon them. A sharp skirmish followed, but the British were too strong, and our men were driven back leaving several killed and wounded. The British, too, had their losses, though their loss was not as heavy as that of the Americans. This skirmish at Cooch’s Bridge was the first warning Washington had that the British had advanced their army.