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Marching in Maryland—Arrival at New Baltimore—General McClellan superseded by General Burnside—Thanksgiving in camp—The grand divisions organized—The march resumed—Fatal delays—In order of battle—The crossing—Fredericksburgh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.