CHAPTER XXVI.
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.
CHAPTER XXVII.
BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG,
FOUGHT SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13TH.
Battle-field of the Left Grand Division.
Franklin’s troops slept upon their arms that night, little dreaming of the fierce conflict of the morrow. At an early hour Saturday morning, it became evident that the enemy, instead of having fallen back, were concentrating their forces, with the design of giving us battle. The sun rose clear in the heavens, though the mist and fog of a late Indian summer enveloped the plain. The air was mild and balmy as on a September day, and the fifty thousand men whom the reveille woke from their slumbers began to prepare for action, and were soon marshalled in “battle’s magnificently stern array.”
They were arranged as follows: The Sixth Corps, under General Smith, on the right, composed of three Divisions, viz: General Newton’s on the extreme right and rear, resting near the bridges; General Brooks’ in the centre, and General Howe’s on the left. The First Army Corps, General Reynolds, extended still further to the left, drawn up in the following order: General Gibbon’s Division on the right, connecting with General Howe’s; General Meade’s, centre; and General Doubleday’s, left, facing to the southward, and resting nearly on the river. The Thirty-third was posted in the first of the three lines of battle, to support a battery. General Jackson commanded the rebels in front of us. At an early hour the Thirteenth Massachusetts and Pennsylvania Bucktails, among other Regiments, were deployed in front, as skirmishers, between whom and the enemy’s skirmishers considerable firing ensued. General Vinton, now commander of the Brigade, venturing too far in front, was shot through the groin, and conveyed back to the Bernard House, which had been appropriated for the Division Hospital. Col. Taylor took command until the arrival of Gen. Neill, formerly of the Twenty-third Pennsylvania. As soon as the heavy mist cleared away, Capt. Hall’s Second Maine Battery, planted at the right of Gibbon’s Division, opened upon the enemy. Artillery firing now became general along the whole line. Heavy siege guns in our rear, the First Maryland and First Massachusetts Batteries, and Battery D, Fifth Artillery, on the right; Captain Ransom’s and Captain Walker’s in front, and Harris’ Independent on the left, kept up a terrific fire on the rebels. Orders now came to advance, and about nine o’clock, Gibbon’s and Meade’s Divisions commenced moving slowly forward, thereby almost straightening our lines, which were previously arranged somewhat in the form of a crescent. Considerable resistance was met with, but the forces continued to move forward, until at mid-day the line of battle was half a mile in advance of where it had been in the morning.
But now came the reserve fire of the enemy, with terrific force. Shot and shell were poured into our men from all along the heights, which, curving around in the shape of a horse-shoe, exposed them to an enfilading fire. The rebel infantry likewise appeared, and fired rapidly. Still Meade and Gibbon continued to press on, and as the enemy gave way, cheer after cheer rent the air from our troops. General Meade now led his Division on a charge, and pressing on the edge of the crest, skilfully penetrated an opening in the enemy’s lines and captured several hundred prisoners, belonging to the Sixty-first Georgia and Thirty-first North Carolina Regiments. Owing, however, to the lack of reinforcements, he was eventually compelled to fall back. While the fight was progressing at this point, Jackson sent down a heavy column, near the Massaponax, to turn our left, but it was handsomely repulsed and driven back by Doubleday.
Very heavy firing now raged along the line. Dense clouds of smoke hid friend and foe from view, and the heavy roar of artillery and musketry shook the ground as with an earthquake. The bloody carnival was at its height, “and wild uproar and desolation reigned” supreme. Mortals could not long endure such a conflict, and after forty minutes’ duration, it was followed by a temporary lull, the combatants resting from their labors through sheer exhaustion. The rising smoke disclosed the field strewn with the dead and wounded, lying thick as autumnal leaves. The lull, however, was of short duration. Again “stiffening the sinews and summoning up the blood,” the warriors rushed forward over the mangled forms of their comrades, and the conflict raged with fury. One of Gibbon’s Brigades, gallantly charging over the plain, dashed right up to the mouths of the frowning cannon, and storming the enemy’s breastworks, captured two hundred prisoners. Once more the air resounded with cheers, cheers which, alas! were many a noble fellow’s death-cry. But unable to withstand the galling fire, the troops, like those of Meade before them, were compelled to relinquish their hold on the crest, and fall back, with decimated ranks.
Reinforcements now arrived, consisting of Sickles’ and Birney’s Divisions from Hooker’s command, and were sent to the support of Meade. Newton’s Division was also transferred from the extreme right of the line to the right of the First Corps, and became engaged. General Franklin was seated, most of the time, in a little grove, which he had made his temporary headquarters, watching the progress of the battle, and delivering orders to the Aid-de-Camps, who were constantly arriving and departing. Occasionally mounting his horse, he rode up and down the lines, regardless of the missiles of death, anxiously peering in the direction of the woody crest, to discover if possible some weak spot in the enemy’s lines. Generals Smith and Reynolds were with him frequently.
About one o’clock, the young and gallant General Bayard, of the cavalry, was fatally wounded. He had just seated himself under a tree by General Franklin, when a ball striking a few yards in front, ricocheted, and passed through his thigh, inflicting a fearful wound. He was immediately conveyed to the hospital, and died a few hours afterwards. As he was lying on the couch, the Chaplain of the Harris Light Cavalry approached, and inquiring if he desired him to write anything for him, “By-and-by,” he replied. Then turning to Surgeon Hackley, he asked if he should be able to live forty-eight hours. A negative answer being given, he further inquired if he should die easy. He was to have been married in a few days.
Meanwhile Generals Howe’s and Brooks’ Divisions were exposed to an enfilading fire from the enemy’s artillery. The Thirty-third still supported a battery. Instead of being posted some distance to the rear, Colonel Taylor was ordered close up to the guns, and the men lay almost beneath the caissons. Shot and shell were whizzing, screaming, crashing, and moaning all around them, but they manfully maintained their position, receiving the fire directed upon the artillerists. Towards noon a 64-pounder opened from the hill directly back of Fredericksburg. The first shell struck a few feet in front of the Regiment, the second fell directly in their midst, plunging into the ground to the depth of three feet or more. The enemy had obtained a most perfect range, and would have inflicted a great loss of life, had not the monster gun, very fortunately for us, exploded on the third discharge. The guns which the Thirty-third supported were repeatedly hit by the enemy, whose batteries could be distinctly seen glistening in the edge of the woods a mile distant.
One round shot struck the wheel of a caisson, smashing it to atoms, and prostrating the “powder boy,” who was taking ammunition from it at the time. Had the missile gone ten inches further to the left, it must have exploded the caisson and caused fearful havoc among the Thirty-third. Here Colonel Taylor lay with his men, for many long hours, exposed to the fury of the rebel cannoniers, without shelter or protection of any kind, until the after part of the day, when they were relieved by the Forty-third New York, Col. Baker, and fell back to the second line of battle. Towards evening, a Brigade of the enemy charged down from the crest upon one of our batteries (Martin’s), yelling and cheering, as they came on the double quick. Slowly the Second and Fourth Vermont, which were in the skirmish line, fell back, until the enemy had advanced well on towards the guns, when a most sweeping cross fire was poured upon them. At the same time, the Third Vermont, concealed in a ravine close by, rose to their feet, delivering volley after volley, and they were sent back, broken, disorganized and howling to the thickets.
And so the dark masses of men swayed to and fro through the livelong day, neither side gaining any material advantage. Nor did the going down of the sun end the struggle. After the evening shadows had gathered over the plain, the artillery still kept playing upon each other, though probably with but little effect. About half past eight, the last gun was fired, and the shrieks and groans of the sufferers alone broke upon the stillness of the night.
The fighting on the right, at Fredericksburg, had been still less successful. Again and again were our forces hurled against the rebel works, only to be rolled back with confusion and slaughter. The narrow plain previously described, over which they had to charge, was so completely commanded by the enemy’s guns, as to render every foot of it untenable. The last assaulting column succeeded, however, in reaching the stone-wall which we had all day attempted to gain possession of. But they had no sooner commenced clambering up the green sides of the bluff, and arrived within a few feet of the guns, before rebel reinforcements arrived and drove them back beyond the wall and over the plain. This terminated the fighting on the right.
During the night General Burnside summoned his Division Commanders to his Headquarters, and after a brief consultation, informed them of his determination to renew the attack in the rear of the city, on the following day. His plan was to form his old Corps, the Ninth, into a column of attack, by Regiments. He thought that the eighteen or twenty Regiments of which it was composed, by arriving quickly, one after another, would be able to carry the stone-wall and the batteries in front, and force the enemy back to his second line of works.
All of his Generals stoutly opposed the project, but still believing that it would prove successful, he ordered the storming columns to be got in readiness. When, however, General Sumner, always so fond of a fight, rode up to him on the following day, and said, “General, I hope you will desist from this attack; I do not know of any General Officer who approves of it, and I think it will prove disastrous to the army,” he decided upon abandoning it.