Laying of the Bridges.—A solemn scene.—Bombardment of
Fredericksburg.—Gallantry of the Seventh Michigan and other
Regiments.—Crossing of the left Grand Division.
At length everything was in readiness, and during Wednesday evening,
December 11th, the advance movement was begun. All night long, the
rumbling of artillery could be heard, as numerous batteries moved to the
Rappahannock and were planted along the bank. One after another, the
long, phantom-like pontoons descended the hillsides, and were unloaded
near the points designated for crossings. Four bridges were to be thrown,
the first a few yards above the Lacey House, which fronts the main street
of the city, the second several hundred yards below, and the third and
fourth about a mile still further down the river. The right and centre
Grand Divisions were to cross on the first two, and the left on the
remaining two. General Burnside designed to have all the artillery in
position by eleven o’clock, the pontoons thrown by two A. M., and a large
force across by sunrise. Owing, however, to numerous delays, none of the
boats were launched before four o’clock.
The writer stood at the upper crossing. It was a most solemn scene,
those brave Engineers (50th New York) pushing their pontoons out upon
the ice, and fearlessly moving them around in the water, to their proper
positions. Any moment might terminate their existence. They were upon the
very threshold of eternity. Pacing along the opposite bank, or grouped
around the picket fires, were to be seen the rebel sentinels, almost
within pistol-shot. Occasionally they would stop a moment to view our
operations, then resume their beat as unconcernedly as if nothing unusual
was transpiring. The bridge was headed directly for one of their fires.
Nearly one quarter of it was completed without interruption, when,
suddenly, as the Court House clock struck five, two signal guns boomed
away in the distance, and were immediately followed by a sharp volley
of musketry. Lieutenant-Colonel Bull, two captains and several men fell
dead; others tumbled headlong into the water and sank to the bottom, or
were rescued by their brave comrades and brought bleeding and dripping to
the shore. We were not unprepared for this. Before the enemy had time to
re-load, our artillery planted on the bluffs overhead, and infantry drawn
up along the river’s bank, returned a heavy fire upon the buildings in
which the sharpshooters were secreted.
Boom, boom, went the cannon, crack, crack, went the rifle, for one long
hour, until the silence of the rebels terminated the duel, and the
pontoniers resumed operations. But they had hardly reached the outermost
boat, and turned their backs to place an additional one in position,
before another murderous fire was poured in upon them, and the fierce
duel was renewed. After another hour’s delay firing ceased, and again
the builders stepped forward, but were again compelled to fall back. New
batteries now opened rapidly upon the buildings, but failed to dislodge
the sharpshooters, who, crouching down in their hiding places, fired
upon the pontoniers as often as they ventured from the shore. About ten
o’clock General Burnside appeared and gave the order, “Concentrate the
fire of all your guns upon the place, and batter it down.” One hundred
and forty-three, cannon of various calibre, from 10-pound Parrots to
4½ inch siege guns, were immediately trained upon the doomed city, and
for fifty minutes rained down a perfect tempest of solid shot, shell
and canister. Through the mist and dense clouds of smoke, bright fires
appeared bursting forth in different parts of the town, and adding to the
terrible grandeur of the spectacle.
When the cannonading ceased and the smoke cleared away, the
destructiveness of our fire was apparent. Whole rows of buildings
along the river side were rent and riven, as if by the thunderbolts of
heaven—roofs gone, doors and windows smashed to atoms, and great hideous
gaps through the walls; shade trees shorn of their limbs or twisted from
their trunks; fences stripped of their pickets by canister, or lying
flat on the ground; streets furrowed with solid shot, and strewn with
household effects; elegant up-town residences in flames; we had literally
swept the city with the besom of destruction.
It did not seem possible that any animate thing could have survived this
bombardment; and there were in fact no signs of life visible; but no
sooner had the engineers again resumed operations, than they were greeted
with a fresh shower of bullets. How the sharpshooters had managed to live
through all that fire and smoke, was to us almost a miracle. Yet they
were alive, and as plucky as ever, and our gunners returned to their work.
General Burnside now almost despaired of effecting a crossing. Nothing
but some brilliant coup-de-main would accomplish it. He accordingly
decided upon sending a body of men over in boats, who should rush
suddenly upon the concealed foe, and hunt them from their holes. The
Seventh Michigan and Nineteenth Massachusetts were designated for this
purpose. The gallant fellows never flinched from the duty assigned
them, but taking their places in the pontoons, pushed bravely out into
the stream, regardless of the rapid volleys of musketry which were
poured into them. In a moment they had gained the opposite shore, and
fearlessly sweeping up the bank, dashed into the houses, and shot,
bayoneted or captured the small force which had occasioned us so much
trouble and delay. A hundred dark, swarthy Alabamians and Mississippians
were brought back, amidst the wildest cheers of the spectators who had
witnessed the heroic act.
Fredericksburg was now ours, and no further trouble was experienced in
laying the bridge. The second was completed in a similar manner; about
ninety men belonging to Colonel Fairchild’s New York Regiment being
taken over in boats, and returning with 110 rebels. Owing to the fact
of there being no buildings to screen them, the enemy could offer but
little resistance to the engineers at the lower crossings, and they were
completed much earlier in the day.
The pontoons now being thrown, the right and centre Grand Divisions moved
down in columns to cross, halting around Falmouth Station. The left,
which had marched from White-Oak Church early in the morning, was massed
during the day on the plain below. For some reason, General Burnside
decided to cross but a small force that night, and the Sixth Corps drew
back from the plain, and bivouacked in the adjoining woods. Leaving the
vast army—
“A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from its frozen loins”—
sleeping along the banks of the river and in the groves beyond, let us
briefly survey the scene of its operations during the four days which
followed.
Directly in the rear of Fredericksburg is a plain, about one quarter of
a mile wide, extending back to a low range of hills, along the crest of
which was the enemy’s first line of works. At the foot of and running
parallel with this range, is a massive stone wall, behind which infantry
were posted. In the rear of the first is another and much higher chain of
hills, extending down the river for several miles. Along the top of these
woody heights ran the road, referred to by General Burnside, connecting
the rebel right with the rebel left, which rested immediately back of the
city.
Crossing Hazel Creek, a small stream skirting the lower part of the
place and emptying into the Rappahannock, the ground becomes very level,
stretching out into a broad plateau, and traversed by the Bowling Green
turnpike, running half a mile back from the river, and the Fredericksburg
and Richmond railroad still further back. The Bernard House was located
on the bank, about one mile and a half below the city. Three-fourths of a
mile lower down, the Massaponax Creek flows into the Rappahannock. This
plain, bounded on the north by Hazel Creek, east by the Rappahannock,
west by a chain of hills, and south by the Massaponax, was the theatre of
General Franklin’s operations. While he advanced and occupied some point
in these hills, Sumner and Hooker were to storm the batteries in the rear
of Fredericksburg. Our narrative will be confined mainly to the left
Grand Division.
Long before daylight Friday morning, it commenced crossing, and by ten
o’clock was all over. As fast as the various commands reached the
opposite shore, they debouched upon the plain, spreading out like a fan,
prepared to sweep down the enemy before them. The Thirty-third passed
over the bridge about 7½ o’clock. An hour and a half later the Sixth
Corps was drawn up in line of battle, facing to the west. The First Corps
joined on further to the left. Skirmishers were deployed, and feeling
their way cautiously forward, encountered those of the enemy near the
Bowling Green road. The first man wounded was John S. Havens, of Company
H, Thirty-third, which was in the front. After a few moments the rebels
fell back, leaving us in possession of the road. Owing to the dense fog
which prevailed, it was deemed best not to fight the battle that day, and
our troops moved no further forward. About 2½ o’clock in the afternoon,
the enemy opened some masked guns from the heights on our batteries
facing in that direction, which, immediately limbering up, moved several
yards further to the front and returned the fire. The artillery duel was
kept up for some time, resulting in but little loss to us.
General Burnside rode down from the right at sunset, and was received
with vociferous cheering by the Regiments as he galloped rapidly by.
Officers and men had alike admired the courage which led him to boldly
cross the river and endeavor to clear up the mystery which enshrouded the
enemy; and now that the rebels had apparently retreated, leaving a mere
shell of an army to oppose us, their admiration for their chief knew no
bounds.