  Nov., 1862. Returning to Virginia I accompanied the army of the Potomac in the march from Berlin and Harper's Ferry to the Rappahannock. The roads were excellent, the days mild, the air clear. Beautiful beyond description the landscape, viewed from the passes of the Blue Ridge. Westward in the valley of the Shenandoah was Longstreet's corps, traced by rising clouds of dust and the smoke of innumerable camp-fires. Eastward was the great army of the Union, winding along the numerous roads, towards the south. Many of the soldiers had their pets,—one had two yellow dogs in leading-strings. A gray-bearded old soldier carried a young puppy with its eyes not yet open, in his arms as tenderly as if it were a child. A Connecticut boy had a little kitten on his shoulders, which kept its place contentedly. Occasionally the lad caressed it, while kitty laid its face against that of the beardless boy and purred with pleasure. The march was tediously slow. General McClellan was averse to making it at all. He had delayed from day to day, and from week to week, till ordered by the President to advance. He had no well-considered plan of operations. The President's patience was exhausted, and at Warrenton he was deprived of the command of the army. General Burnside, his successor, took the command reluctantly; but he was quick in deciding upon a plan. General McClellan's line of march was towards Gordonsville. Burnside decided to move upon Fredericksburg. The movement was made with great rapidity, and Burnside only failed of seizing the place because the pontoons were not there at the time appointed. Lee came and occupied the town, threw up his earthworks, and planted his batteries. Burnside planned to have Franklin cross the Rappahannock below Port Royal, It was generally supposed that the army would go into winter quarters, and many of the correspondents accordingly returned to their homes. My friend and companion in the West, Mr. Richardson, left the army of the Potomac in disgust, and proceeded West again in search of adventure. His wishes were more than gratified soon after at Vicksburg, where he fell into the hands of the Rebels, who boarded him awhile at the Libby in Richmond, and afterward at the Salisbury prison in North Carolina. He ungraciously turned his back upon his Rebel friends one night, took all his baggage, and left without paying his bills. He gained the Union lines in Tennessee after months of imprisonment, with his desires for adventure in that direction fully satisfied. Nearly one half of the correspondents with the various armies either fell into the hands of the Rebels or were wounded. Several died of diseases contracted in the malarious swamps. As a class they were daring, courageous, venturesome, always on the alert, making hard rides, day and night, on the battle-field often where the fire was hottest,—writing their accounts seated on a stump, spreading their blankets where night overtook them, or frequently making all-night rides after a day of excitement, hardship, and exposure, that the public might have early information of what had transpired. Their statements were often contradictory. Those first received by the public were not unfrequently full of errors, and sometimes were wholly false, for the reason that many papers had a correspondent a few miles in rear of the army, at the base of supplies, who caught up every wild rumor and sent it flying over the land. Gold speculators improved every occasion to gull the public by false news. There is reason to believe that men in high official positions were in collusion with operators in bullion, to the mutual advantage of all concerned. The press of the country, reflecting the feelings of the people, pronounced the campaign at an end. The friends of General McClellan were clamorous for his return. Congress and In a letter written on the 9th of December, 1862, the following view of the situation was presented by the correspondent of the Boston Journal:— "It is a clear, cold morning. The sky is without a cloud. Standing near General Sumner's quarters, I have a wide sweep of vision. The quarters of the veteran general commanding the right grand division are in a spacious mansion, newly constructed, the property of a wealthy planter, whose estate is somewhat shorn of its beauty by the ravages of war. The fences are all gone, the forests are fast disappearing, the fine range of cedars which lined the Belleplain road are no longer to be seen. All around are the white tents of the command, the innumerable camp-fires sending up blue columns of smoke. The air is calm. You hear the rumbling of distant baggage-trains, the clatter of hundreds of axes felling the forests for fuel,—the bugle-call of the cavalrymen, and the rat-a-plan of the drummers, and mingling with all, the steady, constant flow of the falling waters of the winding stream. "Looking far off to the southeast, across the intervale of the river, you see a white cloud of steam moving beneath the fringe of a forest. It is a locomotive from Richmond, dragging its train of cars with supplies for the Rebel camps. The forests and hills beyond are alive with men. Resting my glass against the side of the building to keep it steady, I can count the men grouped around the camp-fires, turning at times to keep themselves warm. Others are bringing in wood. An officer rides along. A train of wagons is winding down the hill toward the town. All along the range of hills are earthworks with sandbag embrasures, and artillery behind,—not quaker guns, I think, but field artillery, so ranged that a movement directly across the river would be marching into the jaws of death,—as hazardous and destructive as the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava. "I know that there is a clamor for an onward movement, a desire and expectation for an advance; but I think there are few men in the country who, after taking a look at the Rebel positions, would like to lead in a movement across the stream. "Looking into the town of Fredericksburg we see but few smokes ascending from the chimneys, but few people in the streets. It is almost wholly deserted. The women and children have gone to Richmond, or else are shivering in camp. Close upon the river-bank on "Last night the southern sky was red with the blaze of Rebel camp-fires. Far off to the southeast I see a hazy cloud, and columns of smoke, indicating the presence of a large army. I do not doubt that if we attempt to cross we shall meet with terrible opposition from a force nearly if not quite as large as our own. "If the President or General Halleck insist upon Burnside's making the movement, it will be made with whatever power, energy, determination, and bravery the army can exhibit. I am as anxious as any one can be to see a great blow given to the Rebellion; but I am not at all anxious to see the attempt made against such disadvantages as are apparent to the most casual observer from this position." Dec., 1862. It was an unreasonable demand which the public made upon Burnside. He had been just one month in command of the army. His first plan had failed through the remissness of others; his second effort to move had been made abortive by the storm. He could not attempt again the movement with any hope of success, for Lee had taken precautions against an attack upon his flank. Neither the public, the politician, nor the War Department would consent to his going into winter quarters. He had no alternative other than to devise a new plan. These considerations are to be kept in remembrance in reviewing the battle of Fredericksburg. General Burnside obtained correct information of the position held by General Lee. Jackson's corps was separated from Longstreet's by a ravine, but General Lee had constructed a road through the woods and across a ravine, by which troops could be readily marched to the right or left, as they might be needed. He was satisfied that Lee did not expect him to cross at the town, but lower down the river. He decided, therefore, to cross the Rappahannock, and make a desperate push to obtain possession of the road, which would divide Lee's army. Fredericksburg. Soon after dark on the night of the 10th, the brigade, with its long train of boats on wheels, came down from the Stafford hills. Boats sufficient for the construction of two bridges halted near the railroad; enough for two more went a third of a mile down stream, opposite the lower end of the town, while the remainder went a mile and a half farther down, almost to Mr. Bernard's house. Sumner and Hooker were to use those opposite the town, and Franklin those at Bernard's. A brigade of troops was ordered to protect the engineers in their work. The gunners stood beside their guns, ready to open fire if the Rebels opposed them. The engineers took the boats from the wagons, pushed them out over the thin ice, anchored them in the stream, and commenced laying the timbers and planks. A dense fog hung over the river, which concealed their operations, and before daybreak the bridges were nearly completed. The Seventeenth and Eighteenth Mississippi regiments of Barksdale's brigade, and the Eighth Florida, of Perry's brigade, were on picket along the river, while the Thirteenth and Twenty-First Mississippi and Third Georgia were in reserve in the town. Lee was wary. He expected an advance of the Union army. His scouts were alert. All the commanders were ordered to be vigilant. So keeping a sharp lookout, the sentinels walked the bank through the long winter night, peering into the darkness, and listening to catch the meaning of the confused hum which floated to them across the stream. |
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