THE SECOND ADVANCE INTO VIRGINIA, AND THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURGH.
Marching in Maryland--Arrival at New Baltimore--General
McClellan superseded by General Burnside--Thanksgiving in
camp--The grand divisions organized--The march resumed--Fatal
delays--In order of battle--The crossing--Fredericksburgh
bombarded--Situation of Fredericksburgh--Scenes of activity--The
Bernard house--Scenes at the hospital--The battle on the
right--Charges of the Pennsylvania reserves--The river
recrossed--Reflections.
Thus, for nearly six weeks, the army remained at Hagerstown, and on the
line of the Potomac, resting and waiting for clothing. On the 28th of
October, orders came to clear all the camps of sick; and all from our
Sixth corps were sent to hospitals in Hagerstown. At dark, we set out,
and making a night march of a few miles, reached Williamsport, where we
bivouacked and remained two days, and thence went to Boonsboro.
The march from Williamsport to Boonsboro led us through a magnificent
country. On either side of the road, the long lines of corn shocks and
the vine-clad houses, formed a picture of wealth and comfort. We halted
at Boonsboro in sight of the field of Antietam, and passed our
bi-monthly muster. At daybreak in the morning we were again on the road.
The first part of our way led through a beautiful open country, but we
were soon winding among the hills that form the slopes of "Pleasant
Valley."
The forests on the hillsides, glowing with the brilliant colors of
autumn, the fine old residences, appearing here and there among the
trees, and the plethoric stacks of hay and grain, combined, indeed, to
make it a "pleasant valley," and, as the lines of troops filed along the
roads, the spectacle was beautifully picturesque. We passed South
Mountain, where the rebels had met with such a bloody reception from our
forces, and not long after we were on the ground of the battle of
Burkettsville, where our Sixth corps had charged up the hill and had
driven the enemy in confusion. Every tree bore lasting marks of a
terrible fight. For more than a mile, the forest was completely scarred
by bullets and shells; not a tree had escaped, and many of them were
pierced like the cover of a pepper-box. We halted near Berlin, in a
charming valley, where we staid over Sunday. Monday morning, we crossed
the Potomac to Virginia, on pontoon bridges, passed through the little
towns of Lovettsville and Purcellville, Union Town and Upperville, then
crossing the valley almost from west to east, from the Blue Ridge to the
Kittoctan mountains, at length, on Thursday, reached White Plains, a
station on the Front Royal and Manassas railroad, not far from
Thoroughfare Gap. Here we were overtaken by a cold storm of rain, sleet
and snow, gloomy enough, but not so gloomy as was the news that here
reached us of the elections in New York. Whatever the attitude of the
political parties may have been before or since that time in reference
to the war, in our army the result of the New York elections was
regarded, at that time, as a repudiation of the war.
We reached New Baltimore on the 9th, and the next morning we were
notified that, by order of the President, General McClellan was relieved
from the command of the army of the Potomac, to be superseded by
Major-General Burnside.
No sooner had the farewell order of General McClellan been read to the
troops, than the whole army was ordered into line for review by corps.
The retiring and the incoming generals, each with his long train of
followers, galloped along the whole of the line of the army, while
batteries fired salutes and bands played "The Star Spangled Banner" and
"Hail to the Chief." Many of the regiments cheered the departing general
with great enthusiasm, while others observed a studied silence.
A week was spent at New Baltimore, and then another week on the banks of
Aquia creek, not far from Stafford Court House.
The 27th of November was Thanksgiving day, in nearly all the loyal
States, and doubtless our friends at home, as they gathered in many a
family circle that day, to partake bounteous Thanksgiving dinners, spoke
of those who were away at the war, and thought, that with them,
Thanksgiving could only be a hard day's march in the rain or mud, with
rations of hard bread and pork; and so, many kind hearts pitied the
soldiers as they thought that we were deprived of the luxuries which
they were enjoying.
But we, too, enjoyed a pleasant Thanksgiving. In the morning, throughout
the corps, there was brigade inspection; we put on our good clothes and
presented ourselves to our generals, looking our best; then as we
marched back into the various camps, we found dinner smoking in many a
cook-tent, and the odor of roast meats rising throughout the whole corps
like an odor of sweet incense. Fresh sheep pelts hanging here and there
in considerable profusion, told of good cheer among all the men.
As evening approached, the voice of singing was heard from all the
camps, and groups were gathered under the shadow of the chestnut trees,
where many pairs of government shoes were shuffling to the music of
violins. Throughout the limits of the corps, good humor and mirth
prevailed; the sick forgot their pains, and the homesick ones, for the
time, looked bright, as they yielded to the general feeling of
happiness.
General Burnside, immediately upon taking command, consolidated the army
into three grand divisions, of two corps each. The Right, to consist of
the Second corps, General Couch, and the Ninth, General Wilcox; General
Sumner to command the grand division. General Hooker was placed in
command of the Center division, which consisted of the Third corps,
General Stoneman, and the Fifth, General Butterfield. The Left grand
division consisted of the Sixth corps, under General Smith, and the
First corps, under General Reynolds; General Franklin was assigned to
the command.
The command of the Second division, Sixth corps, was given to
Brigadier-General A. P. Howe.
At length, we resumed our march, reaching Brooks' Station the first
night; then, after a day's delay, we started again. The weather was
intensely cold, and the mud almost unfathomable. The troops, with much
difficulty, moved about six miles, reaching the rear of Falmouth
Station, opposite Fredericksburgh; but the trains, at midnight, had only
proceeded two miles. In the ambulances, the sick suffered beyond
description. Six soldiers from the Third brigade, Second division, died
in the ambulances that night. Even the well men in camp could hardly
manage to keep warm. Few persons in that vast army slept, and the ring
of hundreds of axes and the falling of trees, which were to be piled on
the fires, were heard all night.
The Right and Center grand divisions, had arrived in the vicinity of
Falmouth several days before; and it had been the design of General
Burnside to cross his army over the Rappahannock, seize the heights of
Fredericksburgh, and push on toward Richmond, before the enemy could
throw a sufficiently strong force in his front, to offer serious
resistance. In this, doubtless, he would have been successful, but "some
one had blundered," and the Commander-in-Chief suffered the
mortification of seeing his plans foiled, and his series of forced
marches a failure, because the pontoons which were to meet him on his
arrival before Fredericksburgh were still at Washington; and this
through the criminal neglect of some one. This campaign, which promised
more than any previous campaign of the Army of the Potomac, was now
destined to prove a failure.
From the time that the first troops appeared in front of
Fredericksburgh, nearly three weeks were spent in waiting for pontoons;
while General Lee had abundant time to bring together all his forces and
post them in such positions, as to dispute our passage at any point, for
twenty miles up and down the river. In guarding this extensive front,
General Lee had stretched out his army to such an extent, that Burnside
hoped, by throwing his whole army across at one point, to pierce the
weak line before his enemy could concentrate his forces.
On the morning of the 11th of December, we marched to a point about two
miles below Fredericksburgh. The whole army was in motion. The ground
had become hardened by frost, and a light coating of snow lay upon it.
The wheels no longer sunk in the mire; but artillery rolled easily over
the frozen ground.
The Right grand division, Sumner's, had already taken its position
immediately in front and above the city of Fredericksburgh; the Center,
Hooker's, and the Left division, Franklin's, now took position below the
town.
As we descended from the heights of Stafford, into the valley of the
Rappahannock, dense clouds of fog obscured the view of the opposite
bank, and it was only at noon that we could distinguish objects on the
farther side of the river. Engineers were hard at work laying pontoon
bridges, being submitted to a brisk musketry fire from the rebel
skirmishers, who at times charged upon them, killing and wounding
several of the workmen, and greatly hindering the work. A few volleys
from our batteries, which were brought forward presently, put these
troublesome parties to flight, and the work went on. Still, during all
the day, the enemy strove with artillery and infantry to prevent the
laying of the bridge, but to no avail.
On the right, where the veteran Sumner commanded, the task of throwing
the bridges across, was far more difficult than at the lower crossing.
In the storehouses and dwellings along the banks of the river, swarms of
rebel soldiers were concealed; and these, by pouring murderous volleys
into the midst of the pontoniers, compelled them to desist from the
attempt to finish their bridge. Determined no longer to be thwarted by
these concealed foes, General Burnside, having previously notified the
civil authorities of the town, that if the houses were used as covers
for men who were shooting our soldiers, the town must suffer the
consequences, ordered our batteries to concentrate their fire upon it
and batter down the walls. Soon after noon, the bombardment commenced.
One hundred and seventy cannon belched forth the huge iron missiles upon
the devoted city. The roar of the artillery was terrific, and as the
winds rolled away the huge columns of smoke, we saw that the city was on
fire, the flames leaping to the skies. The spectacle was one of awful
grandeur. The bursting bombs, shooting forth their flashing coruscations
from the columns of smoke, the great tongues of flame from the burning
buildings, leaping to the heavens, the clamor of the bursting shells and
the shock of the artillery which shook the earth, made up one of the
most terribly magnificent of scenes.
In the midst of all this direful tumult, and while the conflagration of
the city drove the confederates out of their places of concealment,
Sumner's forces succeeded in laying their bridge and crossing troops;
not, however, until two brave regiments had crossed in boats and
captured or dispersed the rebel sharpshooters, who had given so much
trouble. Hooker also effected a crossing at the same time. We had now
bridges across at three points; "Franklin's Crossing" being nearly two
miles below the town.
The city of Fredericksburgh is upon the south bank of the Rappahannock
river. Fronting the city, on the north side of the stream, rises a steep
bluff--Stafford Heights--which approaches near the river above and
opposite the town, and gradually recedes from it below. This was the
side held by our army. Behind the town, on the south, the ground rises
in several successive terraces until it reaches an elevation called "the
mountain." Each terrace commands all below it, and the whole forms a
position of unsurpassed advantages for defense. Here, between these high
grounds, and stretching on either side of the river, is the valley of
the Rappahannock--almost a level plain of six miles in length, and
averaging two and a half miles in breadth, narrowing in front of the
town to less than a mile, and spreading out, at the point where our
lower bridges were thrown across, to at least three miles. On the crest
of the heights, north of the river, were posted our batteries in great
numbers. On the plain and on each of the terraces south of the river,
the enemy was intrenched in most formidable positions.
The advance of the enemy fell back, as our forces crossed the river,
leaving us in possession of the plain on both sides, and of the town.
Night came on, and the spectacle was unutterably grand, as the sheets of
fire burst from the mouths of the opposing batteries; but at length the
roar of battle subsided, and except the firing of pickets, all was
quiet. Franklin threw but a small force across the river; a strong
picket line, well supported, holding a semi-circular tract of the plain.
The Eighteenth and Thirty-first New York were the first of the Sixth
corps to cross the bridge.
The Sixth corps returned to the heights and bivouacked for the night,
leaving a few regiments to hold the plain in front of the bridge. It was
the intention of the commanding general to press the enemy closely in
front with the Right and Center grand divisions, while the Left division
was to make a flank movement on the right of the enemy's line, seizing
the road to Bowling Green, and rendering the rebel position untenable.
Before dawn on the following morning, we made our way again to the
river. Thousands crowded upon the banks, or hurriedly dashed across the
bridge. The rumble of wheels upon the frozen ground, the tramp of
thousands of men, the neighing of innumerable horses, mingled with the
roar of musketry. The sun rose in splendor, and the spires of the city,
two miles to our right, shone brightly, for only the lower part of the
town had been destroyed by the conflagration of the day before, and tens
of thousands of muskets gleamed in the morning light. The broad plain,
on the south bank, swarmed with the hosts of Franklin and Hooker.
Musketry fire became more and more brisk, as our forces moved into
position, but no general engagement came on. Shells from the rebel
batteries came bursting in our midst, and in reply, our own guns on
Stafford Heights sent their shells screaming over our heads, to burst in
the midst of the rebel artillerists.
A fine stone mansion of large dimensions, situated on the south bank of
the river, and a little below the bridge, was taken by the surgeons of
our Second division, for a hospital. The position was exposed to the
rebel fire, but it was the best that could be found. Just in front of it
the gallant General Bayard, of the cavalry, was struck by a shell, and
killed instantly. Others, some of whom had been previously been wounded,
received fatal shots at the very doors of the house. The owner of this
magnificent mansion still remained in it. He was an old secesh bachelor,
very aristocratic in his notions, and highly incensed at the use his
house was put to by the "hireling Yankees." But he was taken care of by
a guard. His servants cooked for the wounded and our surgeons; his fine
larder furnished us delicacies and his cellar rich old wines.
Doubtless his feelings on delivering to us the keys of his wine cellar
were not unlike those of Sir Hugh Berkley in "The Wagoner;" who
"--only knew they drank his wine;
Would they might hang, a scarecrow line,
On the next lightning blasted tree."
Saturday, the sun appeared, bright and warm as on a spring morning. The
battle now commenced in terrible earnest. First, on the left, the
booming of heavy guns and the rattle of musketry told of hot work in our
own front. Then gradually the battle rolled on to the right; and while
it thundered there, our forces on the left remained comparatively quiet.
Then, back again came the roar of cannon, the shrieking and cracking of
shells and the din of musketry.
The hills in our front were thickly wooded, and in these woods
"Stonewall" Jackson had concealed his forces. General Meade, with his
division of Pennsylvania reserves, and Gibbons, with his division, both
of Reynolds' First corps, were sent to take and hold the Bowling Green
road, which lay in the edge of the wood. Gallantly and in splendid
order, the two divisions moved up toward the edge of the wood. Gibbons'
division halted at the railroad, near the wood, Meade's pressed forward,
and presently disappeared among the trees. Although considerable
resistance was met with, the gallant division continued to press
forward, the rebels steadily giving way. Suddenly, the roar of cannon
became awful, and the fire of musketry almost deafening. The rebels had
opened an enfilading fire upon the division, which made fearful havoc.
The men who had so gallantly marched into the woods, came hurrying back
in disorder; not, however, until they had succeeded in capturing several
hundred prisoners from the enemy. A flag, one or two mounted officers,
and a squad of a dozen or twenty men were all that could be recognized
as a regimental organization; all others had fallen before the deadly
fire that met them, or had lost their commands. The men quickly rallied
about their flags and again charged into the woods, and again they were
sent back in disorder. They were now withdrawn, and the rebels charged
upon the line of the Sixth corps. The troops of our Second division were
lying down behind a slight elevation of ground, and, as the rebels
charged down furiously upon us, our men suddenly rose and poured a
deadly volley into them. At the same time the troops of the First
division met their attack with spirit, and sent them reeling back to
their cover in the forest.
The wounded poured into our hospitals, and well did those surgeons, who
had seized the stone mansion, earn that day, lasting gratitude from
their division.
Never had wounded men been so quickly or so well cared for. It was the
beginning of an era of _organized_ labor in that department. Among the
earliest of the wounded was General Vinton, commanding the Third
brigade, Second division. A ball had passed into the abdomen, and was
cut out from his back. The unfortunate men were stowed in every part of
the great house, and in the smaller buildings surrounding it, and tents
furnished shelter for those unable to find room in the buildings. After
General Vinton was wounded, Brigadier-General Thomas H. Neill was
ordered to assume the command of our brigade, which he did on the
battle-field.
Meanwhile, on the right, Sumner's and Hooker's forces were striving,
with herculean efforts, to dislodge the enemy from his strongholds, but
to no avail. His position was impregnable, and the Union forces only
advanced against the works to meet with deadly repulse from the savage
fire of the concealed foe, and to fall back with fearful losses. Thus
the struggle lasted until evening, when the roar of battle was hushed,
and our tired troops slumbered upon their arms.
On Sunday morning the rattle of musketry and the thunder of artillery
commenced again, but, as little reply was made by the enemy, the
demonstration on our part soon ceased, and the day was spent in
comparative quiet. It was said that General Burnside, unwilling to give
up the struggle, had ordered an advance of the Ninth corps, which he was
personally to lead, against one of the rebel strongholds, but that he
had yielded to the advice of the grand division commanders to refrain
from the attempt.
Monday still found us on the battle-field. The thumping of artillery was
renewed, but not fiercely. Our wounded were removed to the other side of
the river. A kind providence had favored them, for the weather had been
delightful. Had such weather prevailed as we experienced a few days
before, many of the wounded, faint and exhausted from the loss of blood,
must have perished with the cold. During the night the whole army was
withdrawn, with as much secrecy as possible, across the pontoon bridges.
No sooner had the troops crossed to the north side of the river than the
bridges were taken up, and the two armies were again separated by the
Rappahannock. As the bridges were being taken up, the rebels rushed to
the bank and fired into the pontoniers, but were repelled by the men of
the Seventy-seventh New York. That regiment formed a picket line along
the bank of the river, but were ordered not to fire unless the enemy
did. "A pretty order," said Terry Gray, of Company B, "to wait till a
man is killed before he can fire his gun!" The army went into camp on a
line from Falmouth to Belle Plain; the Sixth corps occupying nearly the
center of the line, at a place called White Oak Church, from a little
whitewashed meeting house, without bell or steeple, in the midst of a
clump of white oak trees.
The attempt to capture the heights of Fredericksburgh by a direct
assault was indeed a daring undertaking, and one involving a fearful
risk. The only hope of success lay in the active and hearty coöperation
of all the commands of the army. Such coöperation was not to be had. To
the Left grand division was assigned an important work which it failed
to accomplish; not because it was defeated in the attempt, but because
the attempt was not made in earnest. The troops were brave and eager to
meet the enemy. None were ever more brave or more desirous to test their
valor. The heroic deeds of those who did advance against the enemy will
ever redound to the glory of our arms; and had all the forces of the
Left grand division been brought fairly into action, the result might
have been different. Surely such troops as composed the grand old Sixth
corps were fitted for a nobler work than standing upon an open plain,
exposed to fierce artillery fire, without ever being allowed to turn
upon the enemy. Our defeat had cost us more than twelve thousand men, in
killed, wounded and missing.