Rall tried again to marshal his men. “Alle, was meine Grenadiers sein, vorwärts!” he hollered. All who are my grenadiers, forward! But the day was lost. American soldiers flocked through the cross streets to take firing perches in cellars, upper windows, and along the fence at Potts’s tanyard by the bark house and stone currying shop. Chipping their flints for a clean surface, picking out touchholes,
