It was December 25, 1776, and destiny was in the making. We were at war for our freedom from the British. The cities were in the hands of the British . . . only the woods, the snow, and cold were ours.

On that night, the town of Trenton, New Jersey, was ablaze with light. Houses were filled with German troops. Who cared about the ragged, tattered, starving, and dying roustabouts under George Washington’s command? To these professional soldiers, Washington’s soldiers were simply a “rabble-in-arms.”

There hadn’t been much to change these professional military minds. They had seen these Yankees run at Long Island when the Hessians had come out of the fog. General Sullivan and his men had been chased and caught, with bayonets driven into the backs of the Yanks. There was drinking and boasting about how they would catch that rebel, Washington, and take his head back to England!

On this Christmas Day, Colonel Rall lay at Trenton with three Hessian regiments, 50 Jagers, 20 British dragoons, and a detachment of artillery. At midnight, Rall gathered his officers about him and shouted, “Noch einmal! Glory to Gott and to the Foxhunter, freezing in the hills across the river!” It was a night of revelry.

But the despised Foxhunter was on the move. Drawing his coat tighter, Washington peered ahead into the darkness. He sat there thinking. It was the “fullness of time” for him, the enlistments of 2,400 men still left to him were up on New Year’s Day. It was now or never!

At 6:00 p.m. on December 25 his men assembled at the river and somehow they got horses, cannon, and men into the barges. Just after midnight, with nothing but chunks of frozen soup to gnaw on for rations, they pushed across the river. It was a good clean plan for dedicated men.

Suddenly Washington struck! He could have chosen no better moment! They wiped out the defeats of the past. Washington drove Ralls and his 1,400 men out into the cold. It was the turn of the war – every post along the Delaware River had been cleared of the enemy! Christmas Day meant war, good against evil, just as it did on the very first Christmas Day!

—CC— There was no war on when William Busik arrived from California in the summer of 1939 to become a lowly plebe at the US Naval Academy. Two years later, much had changed. As the midshipmen prepared for the traditional Army-Navy game, to be played the Saturday after Thanksgiving, war was spreading across the globe, and every football fan in America knew Busik as the star that sportswriters called Barnacle Bill.

Since 1890 Army and Navy had been meeting on the gridiron in the greatest rivalry in American sports, and on November 29, 1941, some 100,000 fans greeted the players in Philadelphia. The six-foot, 185-pound Busik did not disappoint the Midshipmen faithful. He ran, passed, and played tenacious defense. He even punted, setting a school record with a 77-yard boot.

Fans who sprang 50-cents for the 1941 game program and flipped through all 212 pages found a photo on page 180 with the caption: “A bow view of the U.S.S. Arizona as she plows into a huge swell. It is significant that despite the claims of air enthusiasts no battleship has yet been sunk by bombs.”

Eight days later, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, burying the Arizona in 40 feet of water and pulling America into the war. Like most of the players in the Army-Navy game, Busik was soon in the thick of fighting. The academies graduated their classes early to fill the need for officers to command growing ranks, and Busik shipped out for the South Pacific on the destroyer USS Shaw in 1942.

With the country now at war, Congress debated whether the Army-Navy game should be played at all. The game went on – most agreed it was good for morale – but there were changes. To cut down on travel and save precious gasoline, the squads would take turns playing in each other’s backyards instead of in Philadelphia.

The first game was at Navy’s Thompson Stadium, with the army cadets remaining home at West Point. Navy added to its three-game winning streak, shutting out Army 14 to 0 before a crowd of 12,000 mostly Navy supporters – through half the midshipmen had been assigned to root for Army. “We yelled the cheers and sang the songs, but I don’t remember being very energetic,” recalled midshipman Bill Williams. “Also when Navy scored I think we forgot whose side we were supposed to be on.”

The following year the game moved to West Point’s Michie (pronounced MIKE-ee) Stadium. Navy again won by a shutout, 13 to 0.