Willard W. Glazier

1862—Burnside's First Campaign.—Army of the Potomac in Three Divisions.—Advance from Warrenton to Falmouth.—General Stahel's Raid to the Shenandoah.—Laying Pontoons across the Rappahannock under Fire.—Battle of Fredericksburg—Daring Feats and General Heroism.—Death of General Bayard.—The Hospitals.—Sanitary and Christian Commissions.—Camp "Bayard."—Camp-Fires.—Winter Quarters.—Friendly Relations of Pickets.—Trading.—Pay-Day.—"Stuck in the Mud."

Upon General Ambrose Burnside fell the choice of the Executive for commander of the great Union army. He assumed it with great reluctance and unfeigned self-distrust, and only as a matter of obedience to orders. This change in the commanding officer, deleterious and dangerous as it might be upon the morale of the army, was nevertheless considered necessary and expedient.

Having secured, by somewhat formidable forces, the principal gaps or passages of the Blue Ridge, which had been occupied by the enemy since their advance into the Valley, General Burnside began to make preparations to move his army to Fredericksburg, as being the most feasible and direct line from Washington to Richmond. To mask as long as possible his real design, he threatened an attack upon Gordonsville; but General Lee, by the aid of his emissaries and raiders, soon ascertained his plans, and moving his army across the Blue Ridge, through the western passes, he took his position on the south bank of the Rappahannock, to prevent Burnside's crossing.

November 8.—The Harris Light broke camp at Leesburg early in the morning, and advanced to White Plains, where we encountered and defeated a detachment of Rebel cavalry, driving them towards the mountains. Continuing our journey through this pleasant valley between the Blue Ridge and the Bull Run mountains, we soon joined our main army, whose headquarters were at Warrenton. This is the most beautiful village in this region of country, situated on the crest of fruitful hills, and elegantly laid out. It is the shire-town of Fauquier County. Here a few days were consumed in effecting the alterations incident upon a change of commander, and on the fourteenth the Army of the Potomac was constituted into three grand divisions, to be commanded respectively by Generals Sumner, Franklin, and Hooker. The following day Warrenton was abandoned, and the army swept down towards the Rappahannock. The sight was a grand one. On our march, orders were received from President Lincoln enjoining a stricter observance of the Sabbath in the army and navy, than had been done before. As a general thing the Sabbath had not been regarded as any more than any other day. Indeed, very few men in the rank and file kept any calendar of time, and seldom knew the date or day. This was occasionally the case even with officers. The only possible way of keeping pace with flying time in the army, is by writing a diary. But even when it was known that the Sabbath had been reached, no regard was taken of its sacred character. One of the causes of our disaster at the first battle of Bull Run was supposed by many to be, that we had desecrated the holy Sabbath by our attack. However true or false such a view may have been, the order we received to-day from Washington was universally felt to be opportune.

Two days' march brought our advance to Falmouth, and on the twenty-first General Patrick, our provost-marshal general, was directed to repair to Fredericksburg under a flag of truce, and request the surrender of the city. The authorities replied, that while its buildings and streets would no longer be used by Rebel sharp-shooters to annoy our forces across the river, its occupation by Yankee troops would be resisted to the last. Had the means of crossing the river been at hand, General Burnside would have made hostile demonstrations at once; but through some misunderstanding between himself and General Halleck, at Washington, the pontoons were not in readiness.

November 28.—A strong force of Rebel cavalry, under General Wade Hampton, dashed across the river at some of the upper fords, raided up around Dumfries and the Occoquan, captured several prisoners and wagons, and returned to their side of the river without loss. As a sort of offset to this, on the twenty-ninth, General Julius Stahel, who commanded a brigade of cavalry at Fairfax Court House, commenced an expedition of great daring and success, to the Shenandoah Valley. Having advanced to Snicker's Gap in the Blue Ridge, a strong Rebel picket-post was captured by our vanguard. Pressing forward on the main thoroughfare, they soon reached the Shenandoah river, and were not a little annoyed by Rebel carbineers, hidden behind old buildings across the stream. Captain Abram H. Krom, commanding a detachment of the Fifth New York Cavalry, and leading the advance, dashed across the river, though deep and the current swift, closely followed by his men. On reaching the opposite bank, a charge was ordered, and executed in so gallant a manner that several Rebels were made prisoners, and the remainder of the squad was driven away at a breakneck speed. Our men pursued them in a scrambling race for nearly three miles, when they came upon a Rebel camp, which was attacked in a furious manner. Our boys made noise enough for a brigade, though only a squadron was at hand. The enemy attempted a defence, but utterly failed. ReËnforcements coming to our aid, the Rebels were thoroughly beaten and driven away, leaving in our hands one captain, two lieutenants, thirty-two privates, one stand of colors, and several wagons and ambulances. Most of these were laden with booty taken by White's guerillas in a recent raid into Poolesville, Maryland. Sixty horses and fifty heads of cattle were also captured in this gallant charge. With all their spoils the expedition returned, via Leesburg, arriving at their camps in safety.

But all eyes were turned expectantly towards Fredericksburg, with its two vast armies preparing for a grand encounter. Nearly all the citizens of the city had left their homes and fled southward. While General Burnside waited for his pontoons, General Lee was fortifying the Heights in rear of the city, and concentrating his forces for the anticipated onset. This state of things was greatly regretted.

December 11.—The laying of the pontoons commenced in the night, but the task was only partially performed when daylight made the sappers and miners at work a fair mark for the sharpshooters, who were hidden among the buildings which lined the opposite shore, and whose numbers had largely increased within a few days. Battery after battery was opened on Falmouth Heights, until not less than one hundred and fifty guns, at good range, were belching fire and destruction upon the nearly tenantless city, and still the sharpshooters prevented the completion of the pontoons, and disputed our crossing. At this critical moment the Seventh Michigan regiment of infantry immortalized their names. Failing, after some entreaty, to secure the assistance of the engineer corps to row them across, they undertook the perilous labor themselves, and amid the rattling of bullets and the cheers and shouts of our own men, they reached the opposite shore, with five of their number killed, and sixteen wounded, including Lieutenant-Colonel Baxter. They immediately dashed through the streets of the city, and being quickly reËnforced by other regiments, they soon cleared the rifle-pits and buildings adjacent to the stream of all annoyance. Foremost among the noble men who performed this heroic work was the Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, chaplain of the Sixteenth Massachusetts infantry, who was killed by a rifle-shot.

Our pontoons were now laid in quietness to the city; and about three miles below General Franklin laid his pontoons without opposition. Several bridges were thus constructed, and before night the main body of infantry and cavalry filed across the river, preparatory to a grand engagement. On the twelfth General Bayard moved his cavalry down the river six miles, and was posted on picket. Several shots were exchanged with the Rebel pickets during the day, and the demon of fight seemed to exist everywhere.

December 13.—The night had been cold, and the morning was dimmed by a heavy fog which covered friend and foe. But orders for an attack upon the formidable works of the enemy had been given, and even before the mist arose, General Gibbon opened fire with his heavy artillery, which was responded to, but without much effect, owing to the fog, which, however, disappeared about eleven o'clock. The engagement now became general, and the fighting was of a character more desperate and determined than ever known before.

The line of Rebel fortifications was so far back from the river, that our artillery, posted on the Falmouth Heights, was out of range, and made more havoc in our advancing ranks than in the ranks of the enemy, until the fire was silenced by order of General Burnside. About one o'clock, one of the most brilliant movements of the day was performed by General George G. Meade's division, which by a terrific charge, gained the crest of the hill, which was near the key of the position. But not being sufficiently supported, they were compelled to retire, bringing away several hundred prisoners with them.

Another masterpiece of gallantry was presented nearer the town, at Marye's Heights, where General Meagher's Irish Brigade repeatedly charged the Rebel works, until at least two-thirds of his stalwart men strewed the ground, killed and wounded. Brigade after brigade was ordered to take these heights, and though their ranks were mown down like grass before the scythe, in the very mouth of Rebel guns the effort was again and again made. Midway up the Heights was a heavy stone wall, behind which lay the hosts of the enemy, who delivered their fire with scarcely any exposure, sweeping down our columns as they approached. This hillside was completely strewn with our dead and disabled, and at length our assailing ranks retired, compelled to abandon their futile and murderous attempts. But in the language of General Sumner, "they did all that men could do." This could be applied to all the troops engaged.

Night at length threw her sable mantle over the bloody field, covering in her sombre folds the stiffened corpses and mangled forms of not less than fifteen thousand dead and wounded, including the casualties of both armies.

Not one of all our dead fell more lamented than Major-General George D. Bayard, who was struck by a shrieking shell, dying early in the evening. He was only twenty-eight years of age, of prepossessing appearance and manners, with as brave a heart as ever bled for a weeping country, and a capacity of mind for military usefulness equal to any man in the service. Gradually he had arisen from one position of honor and responsibility to another, proving himself tried and true in each promotion, while his cavalry comrades especially were watching the developments of his growing power, with unabating enthusiasm. But "death loves a shining mark," and our hero, with his own blood, baptized the day which had been appointed for his nuptials. The recital of his early death brought tears to many eyes, and caused many a loving heart to bleed.

The night following this bloody conflict was horrible in the extreme. Every available spot or building in the city was sought for a hospital, to which the wounded were brought on stretchers by their companions. Now and then there came a poor fellow who was able to walk, supporting with one hand its bloody, mangled mate. At times two men might be seen approaching through the darkness, supporting between them their less fortunate comrade, whose bloody garments told that he had faced the foe. But many of our hospitals proved to be very unsafe refuges, into which MiniÉ balls and broken shells would come rattling, and in some instances destroying the precious lives that had escaped—though not without suffering—the terrible and deadly shock of battle. Many of the wounded were taken across the river, and made perfectly safe and as comfortable as circumstances would permit. The Sanitary and Christian Commissions rendered very effective service, enshrining themselves in the memory of a grateful people. Their deeds of charity and mercy can never be forgotten. By their timely supplies and personal labors many lives were saved, and thousands of the wounded were comforted.

December 14.—The light of this holy Sabbath was hailed with gladness by many a poor soldier, who had suffered from the chill of the night alone upon the bloody field. The weather, however, is unusually clement for this season of the year. A little firing occurred this morning, but no general engagement resulted. This was greatly feared, for had General Lee advanced upon us, it is difficult to see how our men, though somewhat covered by the fire of our batteries from Falmouth Heights, could have recrossed the stream without fearful loss. But both armies spent most of the holy day in the sacred task of caring for the wounded and burying their dead. Monday was also spent mostly in the same employment, and in the night, so skilfully as to be unknown even to the Rebel pickets, our whole army was withdrawn to the north side of the river in perfect order and without loss. Our pontoons were then taken up.

General Burnside was not willing to remain totally idle, and, after some time had elapsed, he planned another grand movement, which, with more or less opposition from his subordinates, who did not confide in his judgment, he endeavored to execute. But he had just taken the first step in the programme when he was signaled to desist by a telegram from the President, who had been informed that the temper of the army was not favorable to a general move under its present commander.

With the battle of Fredericksburg terminated the campaign of 1862, and the two great armies established their winter quarters facing each other along the line of the Rappahannock. Our camps extend for several miles along the northern shore above and below Falmouth, and the enemy occupy the south bank above and below the Heights of Fredericksburg. Indeed, nearly the whole territory between the Rappahannock and the Defences of Washington, a dark, forsaken, wilderness region, with only here and there a plantation or a village, was soon converted into a vast camping ground, and became the most populous section of Virginia.

To avoid the distant transportation of forage, the greater portion of the cavalry is encamped near Belle Plain, where government transports land with supplies from Washington. The Harris Light has established its camp on the Belle Plain and Falmouth Turnpike, about four miles from the former place, and has named it "Bayard," in honor of our lamented commander, whose fall at Fredericksburg is still a subject of universal sorrow.

It is wonderful to witness how the forests are disappearing in and around our camps. From morning till night the chopmen's axes resound from camp to camp, echoing dolefully along the river-shore and far back into the dense, dark woods. Soon after the battle of Fredericksburg, as we had no quarters, and nothing but worn and torn shelter-tents, our only way to prevent freezing at night was to cut and heap together a large number of logs, which, though green, when fully ignited made a rousing fire. These fires, numerously built in rows throughout the streets of our camps, presented, especially at night, a most beautiful and lively scene. The few trees which still remained as shelters were generally lighted up by our fires into grand chandeliers, reflecting upon our white tents a weird light of gold and green, which might have furnished the pen of the romancer, and the pencil of the artist, their most interesting plots and designs.

Around these fires gathered the comrades of many a march and battle, to discuss the experiences of the past, to applaud or censure certain men and measures, and to lay plans, and to entertain rumors with regard to future operations. The gallantry and merits of companions fallen in strife were presented by those most intimate with them; and otherwise dreary hours were pleasantly whiled away with narratives of personal encounters, of terrible sufferings of prisoners while in the hands of the enemy, and of hair-breadth escapes. These accounts were generally enlivened with extra coloring drawn from the enchanting and fairy-like scenes which surrounded the speaker, and an entire group was thrilled and electrified until frequently the night was made to ring with uproarious applause. Occasionally the friends and home scenes we have left behind us became the subjects of conversation, and it is astonishing how that word "home," with its hallowed associations, touches the tender feelings of our hearts. These colloquies often ended with the good old hymn, "Home, sweet home," and with the sound of the last bugle-call we hastened to our rest, to spend, it may be, a miserable night of cold and storm.

No soldier can ever forget these camp and bivouac scenes, for they are deeply photographed upon his memory. He will often recall their ludicrous as well as romantic side, when the mud was knee-deep and over, up to within a few feet of the fire, compelling him often to stand so near the burning pile as to set his clothes on fire. In very cold weather he would freeze one side while the other burned, unless he frequently performed that military feat, changing "his base of operations." If the wind blew, making his fantastic gyrations among the tents, so that you never knew whence he would come nor whither he would go, you were sure to get your face smoked horribly.

With thousands of camps thus circumstanced, it may be conjectured that no little amount of fuel would suffice us. At first the trees were cut down without much regard to the height of the stumps, but as the forest receded from the camps, making transportation difficult, the stumps were dug up by the roots, leaving the ground perfectly smooth, and made ready for the ploughman, whenever our swords are beaten into ploughshares and our battle spears into pruning hooks. And besides the consumption of wood for fires, no little amount is used for the construction of our houses or huts. Nearly every man has suddenly become a mason or a carpenter, and the hammer, the axe, and the trowel are being plied with the utmost vigor, if not with the highest skill. Many of us, however, are astonished at the ingenuity that is displayed in this department. Large logs, notched at the ends so as to dovetail together, and sometimes hewn on the inside, compose the body of the hut. By the careful application of mud—that Virginia mortar or plaster with which every soldier is so familiar—to the crevices between the logs, a very comfortable structure is made ready for its covering and occupancy. Shelter-tents, buttoned or sewed together, form the roof, which, by the aid of talmas or ponchoes, is generally made water-proof.

Three or four men usually unite in the construction of a hut, and share one another's skill and stores. If they can afford it, they purchase of the sutlers small sheet-iron stoves, which will keep them very comfortably warm, and afford them an opportunity to do their own cooking on extra occasions, such as come with the issues of supplies from the Christian or Sanitary Commissions, or the reception of boxes from friends at home. The ordinary cooking of a company is done by men detailed for that purpose. Often good fire-places and chimneys are erected in the tents. These are sometimes made of sticks of wood laid in thick mud, or of stones or bricks taken from the foundations and remains of buildings that have been destroyed in the neighborhood of our camps. Every means is resorted to which Yankee ingenuity can devise to make our soldier-homes as comfortable and convenient as possible. Punch says, "that a Yankee baby will creep out of his cradle, take a survey of it, invent an improved style and apply for a patent, before he is six months old," and this he said some time ago; what he would say now, we cannot tell. If a house has been abandoned by its inmates anywhere within our lines, it is taken as prima facie evidence that the owners must be Rebels—and it matters but little whether they are or not so long as the house stands alone; and in nearly as short a period of time as it takes to tell the story, the building is torn in pieces, and the materials are used in the construction of our huts and the stables of our horses.

The dying year left us engaged in these labors.

January 1, 1863.—The Harris Light was ordered to the Rappahannock, where we were posted on picket near Port Conway.

The Federal and Rebel pickets have mutually arranged that there shall be no firing on either side, unless an advance is undertaken. This agreement is of course among ourselves, neither approved nor disapproved at headquarters. For several days the most perfect harmony has prevailed between the blue and the gray. Yankees and Johnnies wash together in the same stream, procure water to drink and for culinary purposes from the same spring, and, curious to relate, often read the news from the same papers. Squads of soldiers from both armies may be observed seated together on either side of the Rappahannock, earnestly discussing the great questions of the day, each obstinately maintaining his views of the matters at issue.

On one occasion a soldier from our ranks took from his pocket a copy of the New York Herald, and read the Union account of one of the great battles to an attentive crowd of Rebel soldiers. When he had concluded, up sprang one of the chivalry, who brought to view a dingy copy of the Richmond Examiner, and proceeded to read his side of the story. No one was offended, and all relished the comparison of views, and then began to discuss the merits of the two accounts.

During all these interviews trading was the order of the day, and a heavy business was carried on in the tobacco, coffee, and hard-tack line. There was also a special demand on the part of the Rebels for pocket-knives and canteens, these articles evidently being very scarce in Dixie.

January 12.—The weather has been very uneven since the year began. Wind, rain, sleet, and snow, singly and combined, have been our portion, and as a natural consequence, oceans of mud have thus far given Camp Bayard a most unwelcome appearance. Our only remedy is to corduroy our streets, which we do by bridging them with the straightest timber we can find. Usually this is pine, with which thousands of acres of Virginia are covered. As it is mostly of a recent growth, averaging about six inches in diameter, and shooting up to an immense height before you can reach the branches, it is well suited to our purpose.

Rough as these corduroyed streets are, they are very passable, and prevent us from sinking with our horses into a bottomless limbo. On the fourteenth of the month our picket details returned to camp, after being several days on duty. The weather is becoming delightful. The sun is often so brilliant and warm that we are compelled to seek shelter in our tents or in the fragrant shades of the woods. We are reminded of pleasant April weather in Northern New York. Under this rÉgime of old Sol, the roads are rapidly improving, and should no adverse change occur, we may look for some important army movement.

January 21.—To-day we received two months' pay, and, as is usually the case on pay-day, the boys are in excellent spirits. Whatever trouble or difficulty the soldier may have, pay-day is a wonderful panacea, at least if his pay-roll and accounts are all satisfactory and right. But the men do not all make the same use of their money. Many on receiving the "greenbacks" hasten to Adams' Express or despatch an agent, and send home all the money we can spare. Some repair at once to their tents and enter upon gambling schemes with cards generally, or other games; and it is no uncommon thing to hear that some one has lost all he had, and has gone so far even as to borrow more, in less than twelve hours of the time he was paid. A small portion of the men visit the sutlers, those army vampires, whose quarters are converted into scenes of dissipation, drunkenness, and folly. Men whose families at home are waiting for means to live, thus waste all their wages, disgrace themselves, and cast their dependents upon the charities of the cold world.

January 22.—For about two days the army has been prepared for an advance across the Rappahannock. To-day the grand movement was commenced. Several regiments, supposing that they never again would need their winter huts, have burned or otherwise demolished them. But the weather, which was fine at the outset, has suddenly changed, and about ten o'clock at night there poured upon us, untented and unprotected, a furious storm of rain, sleet, and snow, making our condition almost unendurable. We are now left in a bed of almost fathomless mire. None of the men who flounder through these oozy roads, under the inclement sky, will ever forget the "Muddy March." We had scarcely reached the river-shore before we were compelled to return. In one instance a piece of artillery with its horses had to be abandoned, submerged so deeply in the mud that it was considered impracticable to extricate them. Men are frequently compelled to assist one another, unable to proceed alone. The ground is covered with snow, and yet the mud is so deep that it is almost an impossibility to move artillery or supplies. All our forage and rations are brought from Belle Plain on horses and pack-mules, all wheeled vehicles being entirely shipwrecked.

The Rebels appear to understand what had been our designs, and know fully the cause of our failure in the expedition. Consequently, to tantalize us, they have erected an enormous sign-board on their side of the river, but in full view of our pickets, bearing the inscription: "Stuck in the mud!"

General Burnside, beset on every hand with misfortunes and disasters, tendered his resignation, but was simply relieved, as at his own request, from the command of the Army of the Potomac.