Battle of Fredericksburg--The Fifteenth Regiment and Third Battalion
Join Brigade.
A portion of the Federal Army had preceded Lee, reaching the heights
opposite Fredericksburg two days before the arrival of Kershaw's
Brigade and the other parts of the division. The Federals had been met
by a small body of Confederates doing outpost duty there and held at
bay till the coming of Longstreet with his five divisions. General
Lee was not long in determining the route Burnsides had selected
and hurried Jackson on, and placed him some miles to our right, near
Hamilton's Crossing, on the Richmond and Fredericksburg Railroad.
When Burnsides became aware of the mighty obstacle of Lee's battalions
between him and his goal, the deep, sluggish river separating the
two armies, he realized the trouble that lay in his path. He began
fortifying the ridges running parallel to and near the river, and
built a great chain of forts along "Stafford Heights," opposite
Fredericksburg. In these forts he mounted one hundred and thirty-seven
guns, forty being siege pieces brought down from Washington by
way of the Potomac and Acquia Creek, and lined the entire range of
hills with his heaviest and long-distanced field batteries. These
forts and batteries commanded the river and plain beyond, as well as
every height and elevation on the Southern side. The range of hills on
the opposite side were much higher and more commanding than those on
the Southern side, still Lee began fortifying Taylor's, Mayree's, and
Lee's Heights, and all the intervening hills also, by building forts
and heavy redoubts, with protected embrasures on the flanks. Between
these hills and along their crests the infantry threw up light
earthworks. It could not be said that ours was a fortified position in
any sense, only through natural barriers. There is a plain of a half
to a mile in width between the river and the range to the South,
commencing at Taylor's Hill, half a mile above the city, and widening
as it diverges from the river below, terminating in a broken plateau
down near Hamilton's Crossing. The highlands on the opposite side come
rather precipitous to the water's edge. Along the banks, on either
side, were rifle pits, in which were kept from three to five pickets,
and on our side a brigade was stationed night and day in the city as
a support to the videttes guarding the river front. These pickets were
directed to prevent a crossing at all hazards until the troops at camp
in the rear were all in position in front of Fredericksburg. Stuart,
with the body of his cavalry, guarded the river and country on our
right below Jackson, while Hampton kept a lookout at the crossings
above on the left of Longstreet.
On the morning of the 11th, at 3 o'clock, when all was still and the
soldiers fast asleep, they were rudely aroused from their slumbers
by the deep boom of a cannon away to the front and across the river.
Scarcely had the sound of the first gun died away than another report
thundered out on the stillness of that December night, its echo
reverberating from hill to hill and down along the river side. These
sounds were too ominous to be mistaken; they were the signal guns that
were to put in motion these two mighty armies. "Fall in" was the word
given, and repeated from hill to hill and camp to camp. Drums beat the
long roll at every camp, while far below and above the blast of the
bugle called the troopers to "boots and saddle." Couriers dashed
headlong in the sombre darkness from one General's headquarters to
another's. Adjutants' and Colonels' orderlies were rushing from
tent to tent, arousing the officers and men to arms, and giving
instructions for the move.
I can remember well the sharp, distant voice of Adjutant Y.J. Pope on
that morning, coming down the line of the officers' tents and calling
out to each as he came opposite: "Captain ----, get your company ready
to move at once."
Under such orders, companies have that same rivalry to be first on the
parade ground as exists among fire companies in towns and cities when
the fire bell rings. We were all soon in line and marching with a
hasty step in the direction of the breastworks above the city, Kershaw
taking position immediately to the right of the Telegraph Road. This
is a public highway leading into the city, curving in a semi-circle
around Mayree Hill on the left. From this road the hill rises on the
west and north in a regular bluff--a stone wall of five feet in height
bordering either side of the road. "Deep Run," a small ravine, runs
between the hill on which Kershaw was stationed and that of Mayree's.
Daylight was yet some hours off when we took position, but we could
hear the rattle of the guns of Barksdale's Mississippians, whose turn
it was to be on picket in the city, driving off the enemy's pontoon
corps and bridge builders.
The city was almost deserted, General Lee advising the citizens to
leave their homes as soon as it became apparent that a battle would be
fought here. Still a few, loath to leave their all to the ravages
of an army, decided to remain and trust to fate. But soon after the
firing along the river began, we saw groups of women and children and
a few old men in the glim twilight of the morning rushing along the
roads out from the city as fast as their feeble limbs and tender feet
could carry them, hunting a safe retreat in the backwoods until the
cloud of war broke or passed over. Some Were, carrying babes in their
arms, others dragging little children along by the hands, with a few
articles of bedding or wearing apparel under their arms or thrown over
their shoulders. The old men tottered along in the rear, giving words
of comfort and cheer to the excited and frightened women and little
ones. It was a sickening sight to see these helpless and inoffensive
people hurrying away from the dangers of battle in the chilly morning
of December, seeking some safe haunt in the backwoods, yet they bore
it all without murmur or complaint.
Anderson's Division of Longstreet's Corps rested on the river on the
extreme left, at Taylor's Hill; then Ransom's along the crest of the
ridge between Taylor's and Mayree's, and McLaws' from his left across
Deep Run Valley and along the ridge to Lee's Hill, where Pickett was
posted; Hood extending from Pickett's right, touching the left of
the troops of Jackson's Corps. Three of Cobb's regiments and one from
North Carolina were posted behind the stone wall lining the sunken
road, while two of Cooke's North Carolina regiments were on the crest
of Mayree's Hill overlooking Cobb. Kershaw's Brigade, with the Third
South Carolina on the left, was resting on the ridge running at right
angles to the Telegraph Road, the left resting on the road, the
Second South Carolina next, and so on to the left of Semmes' Brigade.
Barksdale being in the city on picket, was relieved and placed in
reserve.
As soon as the signal guns gave evidence of an impending battle,
D.H. Hill, who had been sent on detached service down the river, was
recalled and placed in line with the other portion of Jackson's Corps.
Jackson had his entire force closely massed in the woodland around
Hamilton's Crossing and along the Richmond and Fredericksburg
Railroad, one mile from the river. The Light Division of A.P. Hill
occupied the front line, with a heavy battery of fourteen guns on
his right, supported by Archer's Brigade; then Lane's and Fender's in
front, with Gregg's and Thomas' in reserve. Behind the Light Division
lay Early on the right, Taliaferro on the left, with D.H. Hill in rear
of all along the Mine Road, the right of these divisions resting on
Hamilton's Crossing. Hood occupied the valley between Lee's Hill and
the highland around Hamilton's Crossing; Pickett on the ridge between
Hood and McLaws; Stuart's Cavalry ran at right angles to the infantry
line from Hamilton's Crossing to the river, hemming the Federal Army
in the plain between Hamilton's Crossing and Taylor's Hill above the
city, a space three miles long by one wide.
Before day the enemy's pontoon corps came cautiously to the river and
began operations at laying down the bridge, but the pickets in the
rifle pits kept them off for a time by their steady fire. The manner
of putting down army bridges is much more simple and rapid than the
old country mode of building. Large boats are loaded on long-coupled
wagons, the boats filled with plank for flooring and cross beams, with
a large iron ring in the rear end of each boat, through which a stout
rope is to run, holding them at equal distance when in the water.
When all is ready the boats are launched at equal distance so that the
beams can reach, then pushed out in the stream, and floated around in
a semi-circle, until the opposite bank is reached, the rope fastened
to trees on either bank, cross pieces are laid, the flooring put down,
and the bridge is ready for crossing.
After making several ineffectual attempts in placing the bridge, the
destructive fire of Barksdale's Riflemen forcing them back, the enemy
attempted the bold project of filling the boats with armed soldiers,
pushing out in the stream, and fighting their way across, under cover
of their artillery fire. While the dense fog was yet hanging heavily
over the waters, one hundred and forty guns, many siege pieces, were
opened upon the deserted city and the men along the water front. The
roar from the cannon-crowned battlements shook the very earth.
Above and below us seemed to vibrate as from the effects of a mighty
upheaval, while the shot and shell came whizzing and shrieking
overhead, looking like a shower of falling meteors. For more than an
hour did this seething volcano vomit iron like hail upon the city and
the men in the rifle pits, the shells and shot from the siege guns
tearing through the houses and plunging along the streets, and
ricocheting to the hills above. Not a house nor room nor chimney
escaped destruction. Walls were perforated, plastering and ceiling
fell, chimneys tottering or spreading over yards and out into the
streets. Not a place of safety, save the cellars and wells, and in
the former some were forced to take refuge. Yet through all this, the
brave Mississippians stood and bravely fought the bridge builders,
beating them back till orders were given to retire. They had
accomplished the purpose of delaying the enemy's crossing until our
troops were in position. The Federals now hurried over in swarms, by
thousands and tens of thousands, and made their way down the river,
stationing a strong cordon of guards around the point of landing. The
space between was soon a seething mass of humanity, the houses and
streets crowded to overflowing. A second bridge was laid a mile below
at the mouth of Deep Run, and here a continuous stream of all
arms were soon pouring over. General Kershaw rode along our lines,
encouraging the men, urging them to stand steadfast, assuring them
that there was to be neither an advance nor retreat, that we were but
to hold our ground, and one of the greatest victories of the war would
be gained. How prophetic his words! All during the day and night the
deep rumbling sound of the long wagon trains, artillery, and cavalry
could be heard crossing the pontoon bridges above and below.
The next morning, the 12th, as the fog lifted, Stafford Heights and
the inclines above the river were one field of blue. Great lines
of infantry, with waving banners, their bright guns and bayonets
glittering in the sunlight, all slowly marching down the steep
inclines between the heights and the river on over the bridges, then
down the river side at a double-quick to join their comrades of the
night before. These long, swaying lines, surging in and out among
the jutting of the hillsides beyond, down to the river, over and down
among the trees and bushes near the water, resembled some monster
serpent dragging its "weary length along." Light batteries of
artillery came dashing at break-neck speed down the hillsides, their
horses rearing and plunging as if wishing to take the river at a
leap. Cavalry, too, with their heavy-bodied Norman horses, their spurs
digging the flanks, sabres bright and glistening and dangling at their
sides, came at a canter, all seeming anxious to get over and meet the
death and desolation awaiting them. Long trains of ordnance
wagons, with their black oilcloth covering, the supply trains and
quartermaster departments all following in the wake of their division
or corps headquarters, escorts, and trains. All spread out over the
hills and in the gorges lay men by the thousands, awaiting their turn
to move. Not a shot nor shell to mar or disturb "the even tenor of
their way." Bands of music enlivened the scene by their inspiring
strains, and when some national air, or specially martial piece,
would be struck up, shouts and yells rended the air for miles, to be
answered by counter yells from the throats of fifty thousand "Johnny
Rebs," as the Southern soldiers were called. The Confederate bands
were not idle, for as soon as a Federal band would cease playing, some
of the Southern bands would take up the refrain, and as the notes,
especially Dixie, would be wafted over the water and hills, the "blue
coats" would shout, sing, and dance--hats and caps went up, flags
waved in the breeze--so delighted were they at the sight and sound of
Dixie. The whole presented more the spectacle of a holiday procession,
or a gala day, rather than the prelude to the most sanguinary battle
of modern times.
The night following was cold, and a biting wind was blowing. Only a
few days before a heavy snow had fallen, and in some places it still
remained banked up in shaded corners. To those who had to stand picket
out in the plain between the armies the cold was fearful. The enemy
had no fires outside of the city, and their sufferings from cold must
have been severe. My company, from the Third, as well as one from
each of the other regiments, were on picket duty, posted in an open
cornfield in the plain close to the enemy, near enough, in fact, to
hear voices in either camp--with no fire, and not allowed to speak
above a whisper. The night became so intensely cold just before day
that the men gathered cornstalks and kindled little fires along the
beat, and at early dawn we were withdrawn.
All knew full well, as the day preceding had passed without any
demonstrations, only maneuvering, this day, the 13th, would be a day
of battle. A heavy fog, as usual, rose from the river and settled
along the plains and hillsides, so much so that objects could not be
distinguished twenty paces. However, the least noise could be heard
at a great distance. Activity in the Federal camp was noticed early
in the morning. Officers could be heard giving commands, wagons and
artillery moving to positions. At half past ten the fog suddenly
lifted, and away to our right and near the river great columns of men
were moving, marching and counter-marching. These were in front of
A.P. Hill, of Jackson's Corps. In front of us and in the town all
was still and quiet as a city of the dead. The great siege guns from
beyond the river on Stafford Heights opened the battle by a dozen or
more shells screaming through the tree tops and falling in Jackson's
camp. From every fort soon afterwards a white puff of smoke could be
seen, then a vivid flash and a deafening report, telling us that the
enemy was ready and waiting. From the many field batteries between
Jackson and the river the smoke curled up around the tree tops, and
shell went crashing through the timbers. Our batteries along the front
of Longstreet's Corps opened their long-ranged guns on the redoubts
beyond the river, and our two siege guns on Lee's Hill, just brought
up from Richmond, paid special attention to the columns moving to the
assault of A.P. Hill. For one hour the earth and air seemed to tremble
and shake beneath the shock of three hundred guns, and the bursting
of thousands of shells overhead, before and behind us, looked like
bursting stars on a frolic. The activity suddenly ceases in front
of Hill, and the enemy's infantry lines move to the front. First the
skirmishers meet, and their regular firing tells the two armies that
they are near together. Then the skirmish fire gives way to the deep,
sullen roar of the line of battle. From our position, some three
hundred yards in rear and to the right of Mayree's Hill, we could see
the Union columns moving down the river, our batteries raking them
with shot and shell. In crossing an old unfinished railroad cut the
two siege guns played upon the flank with fearful effect. Huddling
down behind the walls of the cut to avoid the fire in front, the
batteries from Mayree's and in the fields to the right enfiladed the
position, the men rushing hither and thither and falling in heaps
from the deadly fire in front and flank. Jackson has been engaged in
a heavy battle for nearly an hour, when suddenly in our front tens
of thousands of "blue coats" seemed to spring up out of the earth and
make for our lines. Near one-half of the army had concealed themselves
in the city and along the river banks, close to the water's edge. The
foliage of the trees and the declivity of the ground having hidden
them thus far from view. From out of the streets and from behind walls
and houses men poured, as if by some magical process or super-human
agency, and formed lines of battle behind a little rise in the ground,
near the canal. But in a few moments they emerged from their second
place of protection and bore down upon the stone wall, behind which
stood Cobb's Georgians and a Regiment of North Carolinians. When
midway between the canal and stone fence, they met an obstruction--a
plank fence--but this did not delay them long. It was soon dashed to
the ground and out of their way, but their men were falling at
every step from Cobb's infantry fire and grape and canister from the
Washington Artillery of New Orleans on the hill. They never neared the
wall nor did they take more time than to fire a volley or two before
they fled the field. This retreating column of Franklin's met that of
Hancock's, formed, and on its way to try issues with the troops behind
the stone wall, Longstreet now saw what had never been considered
before--that Burnsides was determined to possess himself of the key to
Lee's position, "Mayree's Hill," in front of which was the stone wall.
He ordered the two regiments of North Carolinians that were posted on
the crest of the hill down behind the stone wall, to the left of Cobb
and Kershaw, to reinforce the position with his brigade.
The Third Regiment being ordered to the top of Mayree's Hill, Colonel
Nance, at the head of his regiment, entered the Telegraph Road, and
down this the men rushed, followed by the Second, led by Colonel
Kennedy, under one of the heaviest shellings the troops ever
experienced. This two hundred yards' stretch of road was in full view
and range of the heavy gun batteries on Stafford Heights, and as the
men scattered out along and down the road, the shells passed, plowing
in the road, bursting overhead, or striking the earth and ricocheting
to the hills far in the rear. On reaching the ravine, at the lower
end of the incline, the Third Regiment was turned to the left and up a
by-road to the plateau in rear of the "Mayree Mansion." The house tops
in the city were lined with sharpshooters, and from windows and doors
and from behind houses the deadly missiles from the globe-sighted
rifles made sad havoc in our ranks.
[Illustration: Col. William Drayton Rutherford, 3d S.C. Regiment.(Page
485.)]
[Illustration: Col. E. T Stackhouse, 8th S.C. Regiment. (Page 285.)]
[Illustration: Col. D. Wyatt Aiken, 7th S.C. Regiment. (Page 100.)]
[Illustration: Lieut. Col. B.B. Foster, 3d S.C. Regiment. (Page 164.)]
When the Third reached the top of the plateau it was in column of
fours, and Colonel Nance formed line of battle by changing "front
forward on first company." This pretty piece of tactics was executed
while under the galling fire from the artillery and sharpshooters, but
was as perfect as on dress parade. The regiment lined up, the right
resting on the house and extending along a dull road to the next
street leading into the city. We had scarcely gotten in position
before Nance, Rutherford, and Maffett, the three field officers, had
fallen. Colonel Kennedy, with the Second, passed over the left of the
plateau and down the street on our left, and at right angles with our
line, being in a position to give a sweeping fire to the flank of the
columns of assault against the stone fence. From the preparation and
determination made to break through the line here, Kershaw ordered
Lieutenant Colonel Bland, with the Seventh, Colonel Henagan, with the
Eighth, and Colonel DeSaussure, with the Fifteenth, to double-up with
Cobb's men, and to hold their position "at the sacrifice of every man
of their commands."
All of the different regiments, with the exception of the Third South
Carolina, had good protection in the way of stone walls, this being
the sole occasion that any of Kershaw's troops had been protected
by breastworks of any kind during the whole war. The Second was in a
sunken road leading to the city, walled on either side with
granite, the earth on the outside being leveled up with the top. The
maneuvering into position had taken place while Hancock was making the
first assault upon the wall defended by Cobb. Howard was now preparing
to make the doubtful attempt at taking the stronghold with the point
of the bayonet, and without firing a gun. But with such men as the
Georgians, South Carolinians, and North Carolinians in their front,
the task proved too Herculean. Howard moved to the battle in beautiful
style, their line almost solid and straight, their step in perfect
unison with the long, moving columns, their guns carried at a trail,
and the stars and stripes floating proudly above their heads. The shot
and shell plunging through their ranks from the hills above, the two
siege guns on Lee's Hill now in beautiful play, the brass pieces of
the Washington Artillery firing with grape and shrapnel--but all this
made no break nor halt in that long line of blue. The double column
behind the stone wall and the Third South Carolina on the crest of the
Hill met them in front with a cool and steady fire, while the Second
South Carolina directed its attention to the flank. But the boldest
and stoutest hearts could not withstand this withering blast of
bullets and shells without returning the fire. The enemy opened
upon us a terrific fire, both from the columns in front and from the
sharpshooters in the housetops in the city. After giving us battle
as long as human endurance could bear the ordeal, they, like their
companions before them, fled in confusion.
Before making the direct attack, Howard attempted a diversion by
endeavoring to turn Cobb's left. Passing out into the plain above
the city, he was met by some of Cooke's North Carolinians, and there
around the sacred tomb of Mary Washington was a hand to hand encounter
between some New York and Massachusetts troops and those from the Pine
Tree State. Sons of the same ancestry, sons of sires who fought
with the "Father of his Country" in the struggle for the nation's
independence, now fighting above the grave of the mother for its
dissolution! Thrice were the Confederates driven from the position,
but as often retaken, and at last held at the point of the bayonet by
the hardy sons of North Carolina.
The battle, grand and awful in its sublimity, raged from the morning's
opening till two o'clock, without the least abatement along the whole
line. From the extreme right to our left at Taylor's Hill was a sea
of fire. But Mayree's Hill was the center, around which all the other
battles revolved. It was the key to Lee's position, and this had
become the boon of contention. It was in the taking of Mayree's Hill
and the defeat of the troops defending it that the North was pouring
out its river of blood. Both commanders were still preparing to stake
their all upon this hazard of the die--the discipline of the North
against the valor of the South.
Our loss was heavy, both in officers and men. The brave, chivalric
Cobb, of Georgia, had fallen. Of the Third South Carolina, Colonel
Nance, Lieutenant Colonel Rutherford, and Major Maffett had all been
severely wounded in the early part of the engagement. Captain Hance,
while commanding, fell pierced through the heart. Then the next in
command, Captain Summer, met a similar fate; then Captain Foster.
Captain Nance, the junior Captain in the regiment, retained the
command during the continuance of the fight, although painfully
wounded. The dead of the Third Regiment lay in heaps, like hogs in
a slaughter pen. The position of the Second Regiment gave it great
advantage over the advancing column. From a piazza in rear of the
sunken road, Colonel Kennedy posted himself, getting a better view,
and to better direct the firing Lieutenant Colonel William Wallace
remained with the men in the road, and as the column of assault
reached the proper range, he ordered a telling fire on the enemy's
flank. Men in the road would load the guns for those near the wall,
thus keeping up a continual fire, and as the enemy scattered over the
plain in their retreat, then was the opportunity for the Second and
Third, from their elevated positions and better view, to give them
such deadly parting salutes. The smoke in front of the stone wall
became so dense that the troops behind it could only fire at the
flashing of the enemy's guns. From the Third's position, it was more
dangerous for its wounded to leave the field than remain on the battle
line, the broad, level plateau in rear almost making it suicidal to
raise even as high as a stooping posture.
From the constant, steady, and uninterrupted roll of musketry far to
the right, we knew Jackson was engaged in a mighty struggle. From the
early morning's opening the noise of his battle had been gradually
bearing to the rear. He was being driven from position to position,
and was meeting with defeat and possibly disaster. From the direction
of his fire our situation was anything but assuring.
General Meade, of the Federal Army, had made the first morning attack
upon the Light Brigade, under A.P. Hill, throwing that column in
confusion and driving it back upon the second line. These troops were
not expecting the advance, and some had their guns stacked. The heavy
fog obscured the Federal lines until they were almost within pistol
shot. When it was discovered that an enemy was in their front (in
fact some thought them their friends), in this confusion of troops a
retreat was ordered to the second line. In this surprise and disorder
South Carolina lost one of her most gifted sons, and the South a brave
and accomplished officer, Brigadier General Maxey Gregg.
General Hood, on Hill's left, failing to move in time to give him the
support expected, the whole of Jackson's Corps was forced to retire.
But the tide at length begins to turn. Meade is driven from the field.
Division after division was rushed to the front to meet and check
Jackson's steady advance. Cannon now boom as never before heard, even
the clear ringing of Pelham's little howitzers, of Stuart's Cavalry,
could be heard above the thunder of the big guns, telling us that
Stuart was putting his horse artillery in the balance. His brave
artillery leader was raking the enemy's flank as they fell back on
the river. In our front new troops were being marshalled and put in
readiness to swell the human holocaust before the fatal wall.
Franklin, Hancock, and Howard had made unsuccessful attempts upon this
position, leaving their wounded and dead lying in heaps and wind rows
from the old railroad cut to the suburbs. Now Sturgis, of the Ninth
Corps, was steadily advancing. The Washington Artillery, from New
Orleans, occupying the most conspicuous and favorable position on the
right of the "Mayree House," had exhausted their shot and shell.
The infantry in the road and behind the wall, Cobb's and part of
Kershaw's, were nearly out of ammunition, and during the last charge
had been using that of their dead and wounded. Calls were made on all
sides for "more ammunition," both from the artillery and infantry.
Orders and details had been sent to the ordnance trains to bring
supplies to the front. But the orders had miscarried, or the trains
were too far distant, for up to three o'clock no sign of replenishment
was in sight. The hearts of the exhausted men began to fail them--the
batteries silent, the infantry short of ammunition, while a long line
of blue was making rapid strides towards us in front.
But now all hearts were made glad by the sudden rush of Alexander's
Battery coming to the relief of the Washington Artillery. Down the
Telegraph Road the battery came, their horses rearing and plunging,
drivers burying the points of their spurs deep into the flanks of the
foaming steeds; riders in front bending low upon the saddle bows to
escape the shells that now filled the air, or plowing up the earth
beneath the horses hoofs; the men on the caissons clinging with a
death-like grip to retain their seats, the great heavy wheels spinning
around like mad and bounding high in the air; while the officers
riding at the side of this charging column of artillerists, shouted at
the top of their voices, giving directions to the leaders. Down this
open and exposed stretch of road, up over the plateau, then wheel to
the right, they make a rush through the gauntlet that separates them
from the fort in which stood the Washington Artillery. Over the
dead and dying the horses leap and plunge, dragging the cannon and
ammunition chests--they enter the fort at a gallop. Swinging into
line, their brass pieces are now belching forth grape and canister
into the ranks of the advancing columns. All this takes place in less
time than it takes to record it. The bold dash and beautiful piece
of evolution so excite the admiration of all who witnessed it, that a
yell went up that drowns for a time the heavy baying of the siege guns
on Stafford Heights.
About this time Jackson seems to have reached his limit of retreat,
and was now forging steadily to the front, regaining every inch of the
lost ground of the morning. The Federal Commander-in-Chief, seeing the
stubborn resistance he is met with in front of the city, and Jackson's
gray lines pressing his left back upon the river, began to feel the
hopelessness of his battle, and sent orders to Franklin to attack
Jackson with his entire force. Hooker was to reinforce Sumner on the
right, the latter to take the stone wall and the heights beyond before
night. Sturgis had met the fate of those who had assaulted before him.
Now Getty and Griffin were making frantic efforts to reach the wall.
Griffin had his men concealed and protected in the wet, marshy bed of
the old canal. He now undertook to accomplish that which Howard had
attempted in the morning, and failed--the feat of taking the stone
walls with empty guns.
In this column of assault was the famous Meager's Irish Brigade, of
New York,--all Irishmen, but undoubtedly the finest body of troops in
the Federal Army. When the signal for advance was given, from out of
their hiding places they sprang--from the canal, the bushes on
the river bank, the side streets in the city, one compact row of
glittering bayonets came--in long battle lines. General Kershaw,
seeing the preparation made for this final and overwhelming assault
upon our jaded troops, sent Captain Doby, of his staff, along our
lines with orders to hold our position at all hazards, even at the
point of the bayonet.
As the rifle balls from the housetops and shells from the batteries
along the river banks sang their peculiar death notes overhead and
around us, this brave and fearless officer made the entire length
of the line, exhorting, entreating, and urging the men to redoubled
efforts. How Captain Doby escaped death is little less than
miraculous.
The casualties of battle among the officers and the doubling up
process of the men behind the wall caused all order of organization
to be lost sight of, and each man loaded and fired as he saw best. The
men in the road, even the wounded, crowded out from the wall by force
of number, loaded the guns for the more fortunate who had places, and
in many instances three and four men loaded the guns for one, passing
them to those who were firing from the top of the stone fence.
Each seemed to fight on his own responsibility, and with the same
determined spirit to hold the wall and the heights above. Each felt as
if the safety of the army depended upon his exertions alone.
With a firm and elastic step this long, swaying line of Irishmen moved
to the assault with as much indifference apparently to their fate
as "sheep going to the shambles." Not a shot was fired from this
advancing column, while the shells from our batteries cut swath after
swath through their ranks, only to be closed again as if by some
mechanical means; colors fall, but rise and float again, men bounding
forward and eagerly grasping the fallen staff, indifferent of the fate
that awaited them. Officers are in front, with drawn swords flashing
in the gleam of the fading sunlight, urging on their men to still
greater deeds of prowess, and by their individual courage set examples
in heroism never before witnessed on this continent. The assault upon
Mayree's Hill by the Irish Brigade and their compatriots will go down
in history as only equalled by the famous ride of the "Six Hundred at
Hohenlinden," and the "Charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava." They
forge their way forward over the heap of dead and dying that now strew
the plain, nearer to the deadly wall than any of the troops before
them. It began to look for the moment as if their undaunted courage
would succeed, but the courage of the defenders of Mayree's Hill
seemed to increase in ardour and determination in proportion to that
of the enemy. The smoke and flame of their battle is now less than one
hundred paces from the wall, but the odds are against them, and they,
too, had to finally yield to the inevitable and leave the field in
great disorder.
From both sides hopes and prayers had gone up that this charge would
prove the last attempt to break our lines. But Humphries met the
shattered columns with a fresh advance. Those who were marching to
enter this maelstrom of carnage were entreated and prayed to by all of
those who had just returned from the sickening scene not to enter this
death trap, and begged them not to throw away their lives in the vain
attempt to accomplish the impossible. But Humphries, anxious of
glory for himself and men, urged on by the imperative orders from
his Commander-in-Chief, soon had his men on the march to the "bloody
wall." But as the sun dropped behind the hills in our rear, the scene
that presented itself in the fading gloom of that December day was
a plain filled with the dead and dying--a living stream of flying
fugitives seeking shelter from the storm of shot and shell by plunging
over the precipitous banks of the river, or along the streets and
protecting walls of the city buildings.
Jackson had pressed all in his front back to the water's edge, while
his batteries, with those of Stuart's, were still throwing shells into
the huddled, panic-stricken, and now thoroughly vanquished army of the
enemy.
That night the Federal Commander-in-Chief sat in his tent alone, and
around him the groans of the wounded and the agonizing wails of the
dying greet his ear--the gentle wind singing a requiem to his dead. He
nursed alone the bitter consciousness of the total defeat of his army,
now a scattered mass--a skeleton of its former greatness--while the
flower of the Northern chivalry lie sleeping the sleep of death on the
hills and plains round about. His country and posterity would charge
him with all the responsibility of defeat, and he felt that his brief
command of the once grand and mighty Army of the Potomac was now at an
end. Sore and bitter recollections!
Burnsides had on the field one hundred and thirty-two thousand and
seventeen men; of these one hundred and sixteen thousand six hundred
and eighty-three were in line of battle. Lee had upon the field and
ready for action sixty-nine thousand three hundred and ninety-one
infantry and artillery, and about five thousand cavalry. Burnsides had
three hundred and seventy pieces of field artillery and forty siege
guns mounted on Stafford's Heights. Lee had three hundred and twelve
pieces of field and heavy artillery, with two siege guns, both
exploding, one in the early part of the day.
The enemy's loss was twelve thousand six hundred and fifty-three, of
which at least eight thousand fell in front of the stone wall. It
has been computed by returns made since that in the seven different
charges there were engaged at least twenty-five thousand infantry
alone in the assaults against the stone wall, defended by not more
than four thousand men, exclusive of artillery. Lee's entire loss
was five thousand three hundred and twenty-two killed, wounded, and
missing; and one of the strangest features of this great battle, one
in which so many men of all arms were engaged, the enormous loss of
life on both sides, and the close proximity of such a large body of
cavalry, the returns of the battle only give thirteen wounded and none
killed of the entire cavalry force on the Confederate side.
The men who held the stone wall and Mayree's Hill were three regiments
of Cooke's North Carolina Brigade; the Sixteenth Georgia, Colonel
Bryan; the Eighteenth Georgia, Lieutenant Colonel Ruff; the
Twenty-fourth Georgia, Colonel McMillan; the Cobb Legion and Philip
Legion, Colonel Cook, of General T.R.R. Cobb's Brigade; the Second
South Carolina, Colonel Kennedy; the Third South Carolina, Colonel
Nance, Lieutenant Colonel Rutherford, Major Maffett, Captains Summer,
Hance, Foster, and Nance; the Seventh South Carolina, Lieutenant
Colonel Bland; the Eighth South Carolina, Colonel Henagan and Major
Stackhouse; the Fifteenth South Carolina, Colonel DeSaussure; the
Third Battalion, Major Rice, of Kershaw's Brigade; the Washington
Battery, of New Orleans, and Alexander's Battery, from Virginia.
The brigades from Hood's and Pickett's Divisions, Jenkins, of South
Carolina, being from the latter, were sent to the support of McLaws,
at Mayree's Hill, and only acted as reserve and not engaged.
The next day, as if by mutual consent, was a day of rest. The wounded
were gathered in as far as we were able to reach them. The enemy's
wounded lay within one hundred yards of the stone wall for two days
and nights, and their piteous calls for help and water were simply
heart-rending. Whenever one of our soldiers attempted to relieve
the enemy lying close under our wall, he would be fired upon by the
pickets and guards in the house tops.
On the night of the 15th, the Federal Army, like strolling Arabs,
"folded their tents and silently stole away." The 16th was given up
entirely to the burial of the dead. In the long line of pits, dug
as protection for the enemy while preparing for a charge, these
putrefying bodies were thrown headlong, pell mell, like the filling of
blind ditches with timbers. One Confederate would get between the legs
of the dead enemy, take a foot in either hand, then two others would
each grasp an arm, and drag at a run the remains of the dead enemy
and heave it over in the pit. In this way these pits or ditches were
filled almost to a level of the surface, a little dirt thrown over
them, there to remain until the great United States Government removed
them to the beautiful park around Mayree's Heights. There to this day,
and perhaps for all time, sleep the "blue and the gray," while the
flag so disastrously beaten on that day now floats in triumph over
all.
It must be said to the credit of General Burnsides, that the
responsibility for this disastrous battle should not rest upon his
shoulders. He felt his incapacity for handling so great a body
of troops. Again and again he wrote the authorities in Washington
protesting against the command being given him. "I am unable to handle
so great an army." He wrote his chief, but in vain. The fiat had gone
forth, "Go and crush Lee," and the result was to have been expected.
* * * * *