Ten years in the ranks, U.S. Army

by Augustus Meyers

On evenings when I was at leisure I often visited my regiment to talk with my comrades. Some sat around camp-fires built in the company streets, others played cards in their little huts. Tricks were often played upon the card-players, such as covering the barrel chimney with a gunny-bag and smoking them out; or some more mischievous man would throw percussion caps down the chimney, or a few paper cartridges, which scattered their fire and broke up the game for a while. On some days when three or four inches of snow had fallen and then melted to a soft slush, the soldiers were in misery; and at other times they suffered from cold, which was very severe for that latitude.

As General Burnside had determined to cross the Rappahannock and attack the enemy at Fredericksburg, I was ordered on the tenth of December to issue five days' marching rations to the brigade and then to load all stores into the wagons and be ready to leave camp when ordered. On the morning of the eleventh, before daybreak we heard the booming of cannon in the direction of Fredericksburg, three miles away, where the engineer troops were preparing to lay pontoon bridges across the river. Shortly after daylight the Fifth Corps began its march towards the river and the train followed the troops. On our arrival at the river-bank the corps and train were massed behind the batteries on Stafford Heights, which overlooked the river, the town and much of the country beyond, although a heavy fog enveloped the town during the early morning hours and hid it from view. The engineers, engaged in laying the pontoons, were opposed by such a destructive fire from the Rebel sharp-shooters concealed in the houses and in rifle-pits on the opposite side of the river that they were obliged to cease operations and retire to cover, although some troops on our side of the river kept firing on the sharp-shooters.

About ten o'clock General Burnside ordered the one hundred and forty-seven guns on Stafford Heights to shell the town, which was done for nearly two hours. The noise was terrific. During this bombardment I made my way to the front, alongside of one of our batteries, where I had a good view of the effect of our terrible fire on the city about a mile away, until the smoke from bursting shells and burning buildings obscured the view. The Rebel batteries on the heights beyond the town made little attempt to reply to our fire; only a few long-range guns could reach us, and they did little damage in my vicinity. When our bombardment ceased it was found that it had failed to dislodge the sharp-shooters, as our guns could not be depressed enough for the shells to hit the houses on the river-bank.

It was after the shelling ceased that the Nineteenth Massachusetts and the Seventh Michigan regiments, which were at the river-front, volunteered to cross the river in pontoon boats and drive away the sharp-shooters. This they did in gallant style, under fire. Two bridges were completed at four thirty P.M. and troops began to cross, continuing all night and the following day. Sykes's division was held in reserve and did not cross until the afternoon of the thirteenth. Very few wagons were sent over besides ammunition wagons.

Lieutenant Hawkins sent me with a written message to brigade headquarters about sundown on the same day. I went on foot, past the Lacey house (which was Burnside's headquarters during the battle and was also used as a hospital) down the hill to the river and across a pontoon bridge. I found my brigade halted in one of the streets near the edge of the town, preparing to march out and relieve some of the troops on the front line. I delivered my letter to Major Andrews, the brigade commander, who returned the envelope to me marked in pencil with his name and time of delivery, as was customary.

On my way back to the pontoon bridge I had time to say a few words to my comrades in the regiment as I passed them. The streets were dark, but there was light enough to distinguish the effects of the bombardment and the burnt houses of two days before. I walked in the middle of the street while passing through some of the residence blocks, for the brick sidewalks were littered with chairs, sofas, bedding and all manner of household goods from the looted houses, which had been thrown out by some of our soldiers who had bivouacked in the street the night before. Some of the stragglers were still in the houses; in one of them I heard some soldiers playing a piano. We had been told that a number of women and children had remained in town, hiding in cellars, but I saw none of them, although I did see a number of corpses lying about on the sidewalks and in the streets, and wounded soldiers making their way to hospitals which had been established in the public buildings and many of the private houses. Nearer the river business buildings and stores had been looted and the contents scattered over the street. In passing through one of these streets I picked up a book as a souvenir and when I examined it later on in camp I found the name of Alexander H. Stevens written in it. He was the vice-president of the Confederacy. At the bridge I was stopped by the guard and was obliged to explain my business to the officer in command and exhibit my envelope before being allowed to re-pass the river.

The story of the Battle of Fredericksburg covers the saddest pages in the history of the war. From it we learn how Burnside planned this battle, then lost his head and followed no particular plan; how he stubbornly hurled division after division in a front attack on the impregnable position on Marye's Heights against the advice of his corps commanders; how thousands were sacrificed in this bloody and most useless slaughter of the war; the indescribable sufferings of the wounded to whom no help could be extended, many of whom were frozen during the winter nights. The rank and file themselves knew the hopelessness of the attack, and yet bravely made three more charges after the first had been nearly annihilated.

Sykes's division was not called upon to take part in the direct assault, but on the night of the thirteenth took up a position which at daylight proved to be in a depression so shallow that to raise a limb while lying down or to turn over, meant surely to be wounded; and some who tried to get to the rear for water immediately fell lifeless, pierced by many balls. No help could be given to the wounded—they were obliged to lie and wait until night, when the command was enabled to creep away. In our brigade eighty men were killed and wounded, mostly while hugging the cold earth all that day and having no chance to inflict any damage on the enemy except for a little while the previous evening.

The army was skillfully withdrawn on the night of the fifteenth during a violent rain-storm. The First Brigade of General Sykes's regulars, and General Warren's Third Brigade covered the retreat. When these troops had crossed some time after daylight on the seventeenth, the engineers cast the pontoons loose and none remained behind in the death-trap into which Burnside had led the army, except the many thousands of our wounded, their surgeons and some prisoners. The army returned to its former locations and re-established its camps.

The morale of the army was much impaired by this battle; it had lost confidence in its commander which could never be restored, and for the first time the Army of the Potomac might be considered demoralized.