Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

13th.—Our hearts are full of apprehension! A battle is going on at or near Fredericksburg. The Federal army passed over the river on their pontoons night before last. They attempted to throw the bridges over it at three places; from two of these they were driven back with much slaughter; at the third they crossed. Our army was too small to guard all points. The firing is very heavy and incessant. We hear it with terrible distinctness from our portico. God of mercy, be with our people, and drive back the invaders! I ask not for their destruction; but that they may be driven to their own homes, never more to put foot on our soil; that we may enjoy the sweets of peace and security once more. Our dear boys—now as ever—I commit them into Thy hands.

Night.—Passengers report heavy skirmishing before they left Fredericksburg this morning, but cannonading tells us of bloody work since. . A few wounded men were carried by to-night. We went to the depot to see if there were any particular friends among them, but found none.

13th.—At a quarter past 9 o’clock, picket firing commenced, and at 9 1-2 o’clock the enemy opened with artillery, on our left wing. In a few minutes the engagement was general. The smoke hangs thick and heavy, making it impossible to tell, this morning, whether the enemy is in force here, or whether his opening the fight is a ruse to cover his falling back. My own opinion is that he means fight. If he had intended to fall back, he would have taken advantage of our crossing, then have opened on us and have fallen back under the fire. Large fires were seen all night in the rear of his lines, which many inferred were from the burning of his stores, preparatory to a retreat. I entertain no such thought. His position is too strong, and should there fall a heavy rain daring the battle, it would, by inundating the large flats on which we are posted, render the situation of our army an exceedingly perilous one. I have not a doubt that the enemy has seen this, and permitted us to cross. I saw some very bad surgery yesterday, and I here enter the remark, that I have witnessed but four amputations by other surgeons since I came to the army, and two of those had to be amputated a second time, before they could be dressed. This speaks very badly for our Surgeons.

Night has come, and the firing has ceased. It has been a terrible day. The wounded have been sent in to us in great numbers. I have been amputating and otherwise operating all day. The result of the battle I do not know. It certainly has not been decisive on either side, and although the wounded brought to us talk freely of “our victory,” I am strongly inclined to the opinion that we have had the worst of it. Gen. Vinton is wounded, and now lies in the hospital. Gen. Bayard, Chief of our artillery, and Gen. Campbell, also lie near me, the former mortally, the latter badly wounded.

The enemy is very strongly posted, and I exceedingly doubt our ability to dislodge him. I hear hints of the want of hearty co-operation of our subordinate Generals. I have feared this from the start, but I will not yet credit it.

Whatever is the result it has been a terrible day, and I now write amidst the groans of the wounded, just dressed, but not yet had time to be relieved of pain.

In my letter of the 10th inst., to C——, I prophesied that we should cross without much fighting; that when we should cross, the enemy would contest every inch of ground, but that if Burnside was heartily sustained by his officers he would drive the enemy. The two first have been fulfilled to the letter. He has not yet driven the enemy, but the fight is not over, and has he had hearty co-operation? On this last point we are not informed. I hope he has, for I would rather suffer defeat honorably, than gain success amidst the treachery of our trusted officers.

December 13—This morning we received marching orders again. We moved up the pike to Newtown. There we turned off to the east and moved across country until we struck the Winchester and Front Royal pike, six miles north of Front Royal. We marched on that road to the North Fork of the Shenandoah, two miles from Front Royal. We forded the river after dark and had some difficulty in fording, as nearly every team stalled. Where we came out of the river the bank was very steep, muddy, and slippery. Camped to-night two miles from Front Royal.

Saturday, 13th—I was on duty again today, going out with about two hundred men from our division to bring corn. We got one hundred loads, and although it was not a good day for snapping corn, yet the corn being quite good it did not take long to fill a wagon.

Saturday, December 13. — The hottest day of the winter; a hot sun made the shady side of the house the most comfortable. Our new second lieutenant, [William] McKinley, returned today — an exceedingly bright, intelligent, and gentlemanly young officer. He promises to be one of our best. . . .

Saturday, 13th. Marched at daylight. Had a cold ride, chilled through. Reached Twin Springs in time for supper, before dark. Slept soundly under tent. Rained a little during the night.

Near Oxford, Saturday, Dec. 13. All quiet. Foraging party started out at 6 A. M. Gone all day. They report a poor country, with much more loyalty apparently than could be expected. Citizens refuse to take Confederate scrip as heretofore, many exhibiting a white flag on their dwellings upon which was in scribed “Union”. Received letters from John from Jefferson, Wis.

Saturday.13th—Came back to Camp. I went on forage.

December 13—There was nothing to record up to the 13th, but to-day had division review from 9 A.M. until 5 P.M.

[December 13th] Early this morning, the Thirteenth, our division, marched up the cut and filed off into the principal street to the right. Here we stacked arms and the men were dismissed. They immediately made a dash for the houses, and ransacked them from cellar to garret. Very soon the streets were filled with a motley crowd of men, some of them dressed in women’s clothes, others with tall silk hats, curiously conspicuous where nothing but caps are worn; many brought out sofas, chairs, etc., which were planted in the middle of the street, and the men proceeded to take their ease. Some carried pictures; one man had a fine stuffed alligator, and most of them had something. It was curious to observe these men upon the eve of a tremendous battle rid themselves of all anxiety by plunging into this boistrous sport. No attempt was made by the officers to interfere, and thus their minds were distracted, until summoned to fall in to storm the heights.

About 12 o’clock French’s division began filing out toward the rear of the town, to the assault which they were to lead. Our division formed next in order, massed on the side streets, about the railroad, waiting for French to advance.

About two o’clock French succeeded in deploying his lines, and our column immediately debouched on the plain in his rear, by way of the railroad depot. As the head of the column appeared in the open, the rebel batteries opened fire and pandemonium at once broke loose. The whizzing, bursting shells made one’s hair stand on end; our guns added to the confusion as they fired over our heads, and the two flights of shot and shell in opposite directions, made a noise above the roar of Niagara. We marched rapidly forward, passing a huge pile of bricks, which the round shot was scattering in every direction, then came a mill race, and on the other side of it a high board fence; clearing these obstacles in the face of a terrible fire, with considerable loss and obliquing somewhat to the right at first, then in full line of battle, we marched directly forward, in front of Marye’s house the strongest point of the enemys’ works. It seemed a terrible long distance, as with bated breath and heads bowed down, we hurried forward, the rebel guns plowing great furrows in our ranks at every step; all we could do was to close up the gaps and press forward. When within some three hundred yards of the rebel works, the men burst into a cheer and charged for the heights. Immediately the hill in front was hid from view by a continuous sheet of flame from base to summit. The rebel infantry poured in a murderous fire while their guns from every available point fired shot and shell and cannister. The losses were so tremendous that before we knew it our momentum was gone, and the charge a failure. Within one hundred yards of the base of the hill we dropped down, and then flat on our bellies, opened fire while line after line of fresh troops, like ocean waves, followed each other in rapid succession, but none of them succeeded in reaching the enemy’s works. A few passed over our line, but the bulk of them dropped down before they reached us. Looking over the field in rear, from where I lay, the plain seemed swarming with men, but it was easy to see that the attack was a failure, and that nothing that could henceforth be done would amount to anything. Our losses were heavy, while those of the enemy, sheltered behind superb works, were almost nothing, and no effort of ours short of carrying the works at the point of the bayonet could possibly avail anything. This being out of the question, the point was how we were to get away from our exposed position. Luckily for us the moving lines in rear attracted the most attention, drawing the bulk of the enemy’s fire, and it was impossible not to watch the advance of these troops and forget one’s own predicament. I wondered while I lay there how it all came about that these thousands of men in broad daylight were trying their best to kill each other. Just then there was no romance, no glorious pomp, nothing but disgust for the genius who planned so frightful a slaughter. Towards evening the attempt came to a halt, the firing ceased, and many of the troops withdrew. By this time the plain was covered with thousands of dead and wounded men, besides scores of lines of troops, lying on their bellies, utterly useless, but exposed to more or less continuous fire. We fully expected the enemy to leave his works and charge us where we lay, but very strangely they not only did not do this, but stopped their artillery fire, and by dusk it became almost quiet. Many of the columns were withdrawn, and the wounded were quickly gathered up. Zook was very wretched, quite sick and thoroughly disgusted. Broom participated in his first fight and thought he had had enough for a life time. Brooke was as usual up in front on the right looking after his men, one of the most unconcerned men in the crowd. During the evening all of our brigade save the Fifty-second was withdrawn into the town, and Colonel Zook took up his quarters in a house near the upper pontoon bridge, where we spent the night.