Battle of Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862

But now it is time to sketch something of the remarkable battle that the quiet waters of the Rappahannock were to see fiercely fought in torrents of blood across the plain that bordered the stream. I attempt no description, limiting myself to some stray observations.

The enemy had finally massed his great force (122,500 men) on Stafford Heights and was to force the passage of the river. Franklin had wisely advised Burnside to do the work with half the army against our right, and Burnside, at first assenting, then resumed his original intention to attack our center with Sumner's grand division. Well for us that he did so!

On December 11 his movements began by attempting to set his pontoon bridge opposite the city for the crossing.

It was opposed by General Barksdale's Mississippi Brigade of McLaws's division, and stands as one of the finest acts of heroism and stubborn resistance in our military annals.

Burnside first poured an artillery fire in the devoted town and defending brigade—that was literally an "enfer."

There had been nothing like it before in this war. Every shot, all kinds of missiles, were thrown at the Mississippians to dislodge them. The brave fellows were there, however, to stay. They hid themselves in cellars, wells, holes of any kind where they could get a little cover, while their rifles picked off the pontooners pluckily trying to throw their boats across the stream. The latter fell in great numbers and this went on nearly all day. The Confederates would not budge, although so stubborn a defense had been no part of our expectation. We knew the town would be seized.

Quite late the bridge effort was abandoned by the Federal engineers. Calling for volunteers to fill the boats and cross in mass, it was gallantly answered. A number of them were quickly crowded, and notwithstanding our fire their landing was soon made and the town occupied, but not before Barksdale had safely withdrawn his hard-fighting fellows.

They had the cheers of the army for their day's brave work.

Then began that night and all next day and night the movement of Burnside's great army across the river. More brigades were added and there were several in Franklin's possession. He had no trouble in laying what he wanted in his front.

Thus stood Burnside, his army facing us with nothing between, on December 13, and bitter cold, Franklin operating on his left against Jackson. Sumner in the center and center-right against Longstreet, who also guarded the lines extended considerably to our left. Hooker's grand division was held on Stafford Heights during the night of the 12th.

But Marye's Hill was our strong point. Burnside wanted it and there he threw his men in blind and impotent fury. It was held by T. R. R. Cobb's brigade of Georgians behind a stone wall at first and another brigade in support. The front here was quite narrow. Ransom's and Cook's North Carolina brigades were in light trenches higher up the hill, but in position to deliver deadly fire, and did so. The defense at the stone wall was also kept carefully reinforced as needed. There was some artillery in pits near the crest of the hill that did effective service.

General Lee's position with his staff during the day was on a small hill with a good plateau, from which he had a fair view of Sumner's attack on Longstreet, as well as Franklin's on Jackson. Longstreet was much of the time with him. Before the hot work began, "Stonewall" rode up to have a word with Lee. As he dismounted we broke into astonished smiles. He was in a spick and span new overcoat, new uniform with rank marks, fine black felt hat, and a handsome sword. We had never seen the like before, and gave him our congratulations on his really fine appearance. He said he "believed it was some of his friend Stuart's doings."

Franklin was in great masses before Jackson, and before mounting, Longstreet called out, "Jackson, what are you going to do with all those people over there?" "Sir," said Stonewall, with great fire and spirit, "we will give them the bayonet."

There is really now but little more to be said in detail of the battle. In front of us it was hammer and tongs all day from 11 a. m. until finally Burnside had to desist in sheer weariness of slaughter. His troops advanced to their assaults with the finest intrepidity, but it was impossible for them to stand before our fire. I afterwards saw that perhaps not more than half a dozen of their men had got within sixty yards of our wall and dropped there. Not once was there any sign of faltering or weakness among our troops; the solid bodies of troops attacking might easily have made it otherwise with unseasoned soldiers.

On our right Franklin had been more successful. He managed to pierce a salient that should have been corrected and worsted a considerable number of Jackson's men. The line was retaken and restored, but with some loss, among whom was Captain Edward Lawton, a young brother of General Lawton, of Georgia. We also lost at Marye's Hill General Cobb (T. R. R.), of Georgia, deeply mourned as one of the most promising officers and whole-souled patriots of the South.

When darkness fell on this great tragedy, hostile movements ceased and the two armies were caring for the "butcher's bill." Ours was small comparatively, but the enemy had lost very heavily.

A thick fog or mist also arose and enveloped the enemy's movements in strangeness and uncertainty. They were actually started on hastily recrossing the river, but we don't appear to have known it. Most of the day of the 14th it was thick and misty, veiling successfully the enemy's movements, but all the time he was preparing for his retreat.

He was not attacked while in this exposed position. Why not? It is generally thought it would have been fatal to the Federals and it is indisputable that they were in hourly dread of it. Some say Jackson proposed a night attack, but I doubt it, and am glad it was not made.

It is impossible to describe the confusion of such an attempt or to anticipate what might happen. I was in one later on with three picked brigades of the highest order and efficiency.

The roar of battle between Lookout Mountain and Brown's Ferry on the Tennessee River words cannot express, and in the black darkness the three brigades achieved worse than nothing.

But why did we not attack on the 14th in daylight? Not my part to attempt this explanation, but it looks much as if we were "building a bridge of gold for the flying enemy."

On the night of the 17th Burnside withdrew his army to his old camp in the Falmouth Hills.

We lost in killed and wounded—Longstreet, 1,519; Jackson, 2,682; total, 4,201. Jackson was also reported as having lost in missing 526. These figures are also adopted by Ropes, and he gives Burnside's army as 122,500, ours as 78,500. I do not think that more than half of our forces were engaged on the 13th. The Federal losses, attacks on Marye's Hill, 8,000; loss of whole army, Federal, 12,650 killed and wounded. (Ropes figures.)

The hill referred to as affording General Lee at Fredericksburg a point of view, had a light trench in which was mounted a 30-pounder Parrott gun, made in Richmond. The 10-pounder guns of that make had done well, but those of heavy caliber were treacherous. The one on "Lee's Hill," as it came to be called, burst after a few discharges. Happily it did not send fragments flying about, and no one was hurt. The immense breech just appeared to have split into a dozen pieces of various sizes and then fallen heavily to the ground. We were rather glad to have done with such a piece of metal.

The old wines of the good people of Fredericksburg have been referred to. They suffered in the fortunes of war. A few nights before the opening of the battle, which was then imminent, considerable quantities of fine old Madeira and other varieties were taken out of cellars and bins, and sent by the citizens to our fellows in camp, equally ready for drink or for battle. It was known that the town would be shelled and occupied by the Federals, probably looted and plundered; therefore it was thought safest to see priceless old vintages passed around campfires and quaffed in gulps from tincups. Of course the men would have better liked whiskey, but they did not refuse the wine.

An incident on the river may bear telling. It was after the battle, when the pickets had resumed their posts and had become friendly; more given to trading than shooting each other at less than one hundred yards. The authorities had to set their faces sternly against this trading. It led to desertion. A fine Federal band came down to the river bank one afternoon and began playing pretty airs, among them the Northern patriotic chants and war songs. "Now give us some of ours!" shouted our pickets, and at once the music swelled into Dixie, My Maryland, and the Bonnie Blue Flag. Then, after a mighty cheer, a slight pause, the band again began, all listening; this time it was the tender, melting bars of Home, Sweet Home, and on both sides of the river there were joyous shouts, and many wet eyes could be found among those hardy warriors under the flags. "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin."

Of course the enemy's powerful artillery on Stafford Heights would have been an efficient aid in resisting an attack on his infantry before, and while recrossing the river. But they were badly demoralized and would probably not have stood long with that threatening river in their rear and the triumphant Confederates in the front. There was much private discussion then, and after, among the intelligent of the Federals as to why they were not struck after their sanguinary defeat. A general belief existed among them that we were deficient in ammunition, the only explanation many of them were able to arrive at. We had no want of it.