THE FREDERICKSBURG CAMPAIGN
I must pause long enough to speak of the days of that sick leave. Just
before reaching Scranton I met on the train my old friend and employer,
Joseph C. Platt, of the Lackawanna Iron & Coal Company, who insisted on
taking me home with him. As I had no home of my own and no relations
here, I accepted his kind hospitality. Had I been their own son I could
not have been cared for more tenderly. Under the circumstances I am sure
I was not a very prepossessing object to entertain. I well remember the
warm bath and the glorious luxury of once more being actually clean,
dressed in a civilized night-robe, and in a comfortable bed. It must be
remembered that a soldier must habitually sleep in his clothes. I had
not had my clothes off, except for a wash, since I entered the army. I
had evidently been living beyond my strength, and now the latter gave
way and I found myself unable to leave my bed for the next two weeks.
Dr. William Frothingham gave me most excellent medical treatment, and
with the motherly nursing of Mrs. Platt I was soon on the mend.
On the 8th of December I started back for my regiment. I was by no means
well, and the doctor was loath to let me go, as were all my kind
friends; but a grand forward movement of the army was reported as in
progress, and I felt that I must be at my post. I reached Washington on
the 9th, and it took the next two days to secure a pass and
transportation to the front. The latter was somewhat difficult to
obtain, owing to the fact that a movement of the army was in progress.
What the character of the movement was no one seemed to know, not even
the provost-marshal, who issued all passes.
I took a boat leaving at six o'clock A.M. on the 12th for Aquia Creek
and thence went by rail in a cattle-car to its terminus in the open
field opposite Fredericksburg. (The rebels were mean enough to refuse us
depot privileges at the regular station in Fredericksburg.) I arrived
there about one o'clock P.M. A brisk cannonade was in progress between
the Union batteries posted on the heights back of Falmouth and the
Confederate guns on Marye's Heights, back of Fredericksburg. The problem
now was to find my regiment. A stranger standing near said, in answer to
my inquiry, that the Union army had been encamped about a mile and a
half back yonder, pointing to the hills in our rear, but that he was
quite sure they had all gone across the river last night; that a big
fight had taken place about laying the pontoon bridge over the river
(the Rappahannock), and the Union forces had beaten the rebels back,
laid the bridge and had crossed over and occupied the city.
Fredericksburg was a city of probably five or six thousand people, lying
on the west bank of the Rappahannock, which runs at this point nearly
southeast. The river is probably one hundred and fifty to two hundred
yards wide here, quite deep, with a rather swift current and high banks,
so that one does not see the water until quite close to it. The
railroad formerly ran from Aquia Creek to Richmond via Fredericksburg,
the connection to Washington being by boat from Aquia Creek. The war
stopped its operation, but so much of it as was in the Union lines had
been seized by the government, and was being operated by the
quartermaster's department for war purposes. The stations of the latter
were wherever the troops were, and these were now operating against
Fredericksburg, hence I was dumped down in an open field opposite that
city as stated above. I was fortunate enough to find a man who was going
to Hancock's old camp, and I concluded to go with him, believing that
once there I could find our division camp belonging to the same corps.
I chartered a burly "contraban" to carry my luggage, and we started. The
ground was very soft from recent rains, and the mud was something
terrible. If one has never encountered Virginia mud, he can have no
adequate idea of the meaning of the word. It gets a grip on your feet
and just won't let go. Every rise of your pedal extremities requires a
mighty tug, as if you were lifting the earth, as indeed you are--a much
larger share of it than is comfortable.
A tramp of a mile and a half brought us to Hancock's old camp. In my
weak condition I was thoroughly exhausted, and so my "contraban" claimed
to be, for he positively refused to go another step. I got my
quartermaster friend to take care of my baggage, whilst I continued my
search for our division camp. I was not successful in finding it that
night, and was obliged to accept the invitation of a sick officer of the
Eighty-first Pennsylvania Volunteers to share his quarters for the
night. I had eaten breakfast at five o'clock that morning in Washington
and had eaten nothing since, and it was now dusk. I was not only tired,
but faint for want of food. This officer, whose name I regret I have
forgotten, was a brother Mason, and kindly divided his meagre rations
with me, which consisted of boiled rice and hardtack. He had a little
molasses, with which the former was lubricated, and a good strong cup of
coffee was added. It was not Waldorf-Astoria fare, to be sure, and the
explanation was that the boys had taken almost everything eatable with
them.
The next morning I picked up an old "crow-bait" of a horse, the only
four-footed transportation possibly obtainable, and started for
Fredericksburg to find my regiment. The only directions I had about
disposing of this frame of a horse was to "turn the bones loose when you
get through with him." He could go only at a snail's pace, and when I
reached Fredericksburg it must have been nine o'clock. I crossed the
pontoon bridge, which had been laid the morning before under
circumstances of the greatest gallantry by Howard's division of our
corps.
The "ball" was now well opened. Marye's Heights (pronounced Marie, with
the accent on the last letter, as if spelled Maree), circling the city
from the river above to a point below the city, was literally crowded
with batteries of rebel artillery. These guns were firing at our
batteries on the heights on the other side of the river, and also upon
our troops occupying the city. The air was filled with screeching,
bursting shells, and a deafening pandemonium was in progress. It was
not a very inviting place to enter under these circumstances, but it was
as safe for me as for my regiment, and my duty was to be with them. The
trouble was to find it in that multitude of troops filling all the
streets of the city. Our corps alone numbered probably twelve thousand
men at that time, and the Ninth Corps was there besides. However, I soon
found Kimball's brigade to my great delight, supposing our regiment was
in it, as it was when I went away. General Kimball greeted me with great
cordiality; but when I asked where my regiment was, he said he was sorry
he could not inform me; that they had that morning been transferred,
much against his will, to General Max Weber's brigade, and where that
was he did not know. It was probably somewhere in the city. Said he:
"You cannot possibly find it now, and it is a waste of time to try. I
can give you plenty of work to-day. Stay with me and serve as an aide on
my staff."
The officers of his staff, all of whom were personal friends, urgently
joined in the general's invitation. But I felt that I must be with the
regiment if it were possible to find it, and so declined what would have
been a distinguishing service. Some distance down the main street I ran
on to the regiment just when I had abandoned all hope of finding it. My
reception was exceedingly cordial, accompanied with the remark: "Just in
time, adjutant, just in time." I found Lieutenant-Colonel Albright in
command and with no help from our field and staff. Colonel Wilcox was
still on sick leave. Major Shreve had returned to camp during the heavy
cannonading of the day before, and Colonel Albright had lost his voice
from a severe cold, so that I had to supply voice for him in the issuing
of orders, in addition to my other duties.
The situation was most portentous. We lay in the main street under the
shelter of the houses, which were being bombarded by the rebel batteries
in their efforts to reach our troops. The houses were all vacant; the
people had fled on the approach of our army. Not a soul did we see of
the inhabitants of the city during the two days we occupied it. They had
evidently left in great haste, taking but few things with them. I was
told that in some houses the boys found and ate meals that had been
prepared and left in their flight, and in all there was more or less
food, which was appropriated. Flour was plentiful, and the night after
the battle there were army flapjacks galore. In some cases it might have
been said these were fearfully and wonderfully made, but they went just
the same.
An incident connected with this occupation of Fredericksburg comes to
light after forty years. If General Howard should see it the mystery of
the sudden disappearance of his breakfast on that morning might be
cleared up. Our regiment happened to be quartered in the morning near
his head-quarters. Rations were scarce. General Howard's servant had
prepared him a most tempting breakfast from supplies found and
confiscated from one of the houses. The sight of this repast and its
savory fumes were too much for the empty stomachs of two of our men, who
shall be nameless here. The trick was a neat one. One of them got the
attention of the cook and held it until the other reached into the tent
and dumped the contents of the main dish, hot and steaming, into his
haversack and quietly sauntered away. When the cook discovered his loss
the other fellow was gone. These rascals said it was the best dish of
ham and eggs they ever ate. Many houses had fine pianos and other
musical instruments, and in some instances impromptu dances were on
whilst Confederate shells whanged through the house above their heads.
It is safe to say that there was little left of valuable bric-a-brac to
greet the fugitive people on their return. And it is highly probable
that pianos and handsome furniture needed considerable repairing after
the exodus of the "Yank." This was not due to pure vandalism, although
war creates the latter, but to the feeling of hatred for the miserable
rebels who had brought on the war and were the cause of our being there.
And it must be admitted there were some who pocketed all they could for
the commercialism there might be in it, the argument again being,
"somebody will take it, and I might as well have it as the other
fellow." The first part of the argument was doubtless as true as the
latter part was false. Many trinkets were hawked about among the men
after the fight as souvenirs. Among them was a silver-plated communion
flagon. Some scamp had filched it from one of the churches and was
trying to sell it. Fortunately, he did not belong to our regiment. Our
chaplain took it from him and had it strapped to his saddle-bag. His
purpose was to preserve it for its owner if the time should come that it
could be returned. But in the meantime its presence attached to his
saddle made him the butt of any amount of raillery from both officers
and men.
When I joined the regiment it was lying in front of the Court-House,
from the steeple of which some sixty or seventy feet high, the flags of
our signal-corps were most actively wagging. It occurred to me that
those signal-men were mighty nervy fellows. They were a beautiful mark
for the rebel batteries, which were evidently doing their best to knock
them out. The steeple was a plain, old-fashioned affair, having an open
belfry, which seemed to be supported by four upright posts or timbers. I
saw one of those uprights knocked out by a rebel shell. A couple more
equally good shots and our signal-fellows would come ignominiously--no,
gloriously--down, for there could be no ignominy with such pluck. But
the wig-wagging went on, I fancied, with a little more snap and audacity
than before, and they maintained their station there in the very teeth
of the rebel batteries until the army was withdrawn. So much for "Yankee
nerve." I afterwards learned that the signal-officer there was none
other than Lieutenant Frederick Fuller, of Scranton, one of my most
intimate personal friends. Lieutenant Fuller told me that he was on duty
at Burnside's head-quarters on that morning; that a station was ordered
opened in the belfry of that Court-House, and another officer was
despatched thither for that duty; that after waiting some time for the
flags to appear he was ordered over to see what the trouble was. He
found the other officer sitting under shelter, afraid to mount the
belfry, nor could any persuasion induce him to face that storm of shell.
Lieutenant Fuller thereupon climbed up into the belfry, opened the
station himself, and ran it during the whole battle.
About ten o'clock the command "Forward" was sounded, and our brigade
moved out towards Marye's Heights. Some idea of the topography of
Fredericksburg and its rear I find is necessary to an understanding of
what follows. Marye's Heights, which encircle the city back some five
hundred yards, are the termination of a plateau which rises from one
hundred and fifty to two hundred feet in an abrupt terrace from the
plain upon which the city stands. These heights form a half-circle from
the river above to a point below the city some little distance from the
river, and are from a mile to a mile and a half long and are most
admirably adapted for defensive purposes. The rebel batteries, numbering
at least one hundred guns, were massed on these heights, and covered not
only every street leading out from the city, but every square foot of
ground of the plain below. A third of the way down the terrace was an
earthwork filled with infantry, whilst at its foot ran the famous stone
wall extending southward from the cemetery above the city, and was
continued by an earthwork around the whole circle. Behind this stone
wall was massed a double line of Confederate infantry. To enter either
street leading out to those heights was to face the concentrated fire of
that mass of artillery and the deadly work of those three lines of
infantry. Yet that was just what we had before us.
Our division (French's) led the assault. Our regiment brought up the
rear of our brigade column. As each regiment turned into the street
leading out, it took up the run to cover this exposed ground as quickly
as possible. Lieutenant-Colonel Albright was leading our regiment and I
was by his side. We passed rapidly up the street, already covered with
the dead and wounded which had fallen from the regiments that had
preceded us, until we reached the embankment of a railroad, which was
nearly parallel with the enemy's works. A temporary halt was made here
preparatory to moving forward in line of battle.
Turning to see that our men were in position, I was amazed to find that
we had but one company with us. It was my duty as adjutant to go back
and find and bring up the balance of the regiment. The distance was
about four hundred yards. I can truthfully say that in that moment I
gave my life up. I do not expect ever again to face death more certainly
than I thought I did then. It did not seem possible that I could go
through that fire again and return alive. The grass did not grow under
my feet going back. My sprinting record was probably made then. It may
be possible to see the humorous side at this distance, but it was verily
a life and death matter then. One may ask how such dangers can be faced.
The answer is, there are many things more to be feared than death.
Cowardice and failure of duty with me were some of them. I can fully
appreciate the story of the soldier's soliloquy as he saw a rabbit
sprinting back from the line of fire:
"Go it, cotton tail; if I hadn't a reputation at stake, I'd go to."
Reputation and duty were the holding forces. I said to myself, "This is
duty. I'll trust in God and do it. If I fall, I cannot die better."
Without the help and stimulus of that trust I could not have done it,
for I doubt if any man was ever more keenly susceptible to danger than
I, and the experience of Antietam had taught me the full force of this
danger. The nervous strain was simply awful. It can be appreciated only
by those who have experienced it. The atmosphere seemed surcharged with
the most startling and frightful things. Deaths, wounds, and appalling
destruction everywhere. As fast as I was running back over that street,
my eyes caught an incident that I can see now, which excited my pity,
though I had no time to offer help. A fine-looking fellow had been
struck by a shot, which had severed one leg and left it hanging by one
of the tendons, the bone protruding, and he was bleeding profusely. Some
men were apparently trying to get him off the street. They had hold of
his arms and the other leg, but were jumping and dodging at every shell
that exploded, jerking and twisting this dangling leg to his horrible
torture. I remember hearing him beseeching them to lay him down and let
him die. They were probably a trio of cowards trying to get back from
the front, and were using this wounded man to get away with, a not
infrequent occurrence with that class of bummers.
I found the balance of the regiment had passed our street and were in
confusion further down the main street. As the second company was about
turning to follow the column a shell had exploded in their faces,
killing and wounding some ten men and throwing it into disorder. Before
it could be rallied the advancing column was out of sight. It was the
work of but a few moments to straighten out the tangle and head them
again for the front. No body of men could have more quickly and bravely
responded, though they told me afterwards that they read in my pallid
face the character of the work before them. Back we went up that street
on the run, having to pick our way to avoid stepping on the dead and
wounded, for the ground was now blue with our fallen heroes.