CHAPTER XI
THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG—KEMPER'S BRIGADE IN RESERVE—SPECTACULAR SCENE—BEHIND MARYE'S HILL—SHARP-SHOOTING—AT HOME—SAD LOSS
THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG
Longstreet was in command of the corps, and Gen. Geo. E. Pickett was the division commander, having been assigned to the division in September. The hills along the south side of the river on which Lee's army was encamped are from a half to a mile back from the river, broad bottom lands intervening between the river and hills. When the line of battle was formed, Jackson's Corps was on the Confederate right, Longstreet on the left, and Kemper's Brigade on Longstreet's right flank, and about the center of the line of battle, which was some four miles long.
Jackson being on the right, no one was uneasy about that wing; Longstreet on the left, with General Lee near him, all felt at ease, and with Pickett's Division about the center, we were sure of success.
I don't know whether the Yankees knew Kemper's Brigade was in the center or not; one thing certain, they did not attack this part of the line. I for one was very glad of it, and I think I had company.
It had been rumored about camp for some time that the Yankees were about to cross the river and give battle. On the morning of the 11th of December the rumor proved true—the Yankees were preparing to cross now, beyond a doubt. I remember when we were aroused early that morning by the Yankee guns shelling the town, I exclaimed, "Poor old Fredericksburg!" It was not a part of General Lee's plan to seriously contest the crossing; only one brigade, Barksdale's Mississippians, who occupied the river front, in and just below the town as pickets, made any resistance. They, however, drove back several times the pontoon bridge-builders before they succeeded in laying their bridges across the river, which is here about 300 yards wide. It was not until the afternoon of the 12th that the Yankee army had crossed over. On the morning of the 13th of December, 1862, when the line of battle was finally formed for the big fight, I remember General Kemper rode out in front of each regiment of his brigade and spoke to the men, urging them to do their duty, saying among other things, "If we can whip the enemy here to-day, I tell you from what I know, the Confederacy is surely established." But alas! he did not know. The enemy was badly whipped that day, but the Confederacy failed.
As before said, the Yankees did not attack the center of the Confederate lines, but tried both the right and left wings about the same time. The morning of the 13th of December was very foggy along the river bottoms, and it was some time after sun-up, perhaps nine or ten o'clock, before the fog lifted and the battle commenced. Soon after the firing began on the right and left, Kemper's Brigade was marched back off the line of battle up on a hill, so as to be in position to give support wherever needed. While lying down there a big shell from a Yankee gun across the river was fired at the line. The big, long shell, "camp kettles," as they were called, struck the ground near by, but did not explode—it just tipped along through the chinquapin bushes like an old hare and then lay still; no one went out to investigate—all were glad it did not burst, and just "left it be." They did not throw any more over there; all were glad of that, too, but did not let the Yanks know it; we just laid still, and like Pete Vaughan's bear, "never said a word," nor made any sign of approval or disapproval.
From where the brigade lay on this hill, the Yankee lines advancing on Jackson's position could be plainly seen, but Jackson's men could not be seen—only the smoke from their guns, the men being concealed in the woods.
SPECTACULAR SCENE
This battle scene was a grand spectacle—more like some great panoramic picture of a battle than anything I saw during the war. Ordinarily, very little of a battle is seen by the troops engaged or in reserve, the reserve forces being generally concealed as much as possible from the enemy, and the troops engaged too busy to pay any attention to what is going on except in their immediate front. Most of the fighting is done in the woods.
Three times with triple lines of battle the Yankees advanced across the open field to within musket range of Jackson's men, the artillery on each side belching forth shot and shell, grape and canister the while, and each time upon receiving a deadly fire, halted and then began to waiver, give back, scatter and finally disappear over the rise in the ground, out of sight and out of range, leaving many dead and wounded behind.
The Yankee officers on horseback could be seen riding hither and thither among the men. One fellow on an iron-gray horse was particularly active and conspicuous, seeming to be doing his utmost to urge his men forward, but all to no purpose. They had run up against "Stonewall," and they had no better success than their comrades, who about the same time were butting up against a rock wall at the foot of Marye's Hill, on the Confederate left. We could see the Yankee ambulances busy hauling the wounded across the river and up the hills beyond, to the hospitals.
All the time we could hear the roar of the battle-tide to the left, as well as see and hear it on the right. The booming of the cannon, the bursting of the shells, and the long, deep, continuous roar of the musketry, made a noise as if all nature was in convulsion.
"Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery."
The big Yankee guns over the river punctuating the noise with frequent loud and long sounding booms, followed by the screams of the big shells, as they sped across the river, the reply of the Confederates' heavy guns—all sounded like "pandemonium broke loose"—whatever that is—or like the crash of worlds in the coming clash of the spheres, if ever God Almighty lets loose the reins that hold them in their orbits. It has been said that during this battle, General Lee remarked to some one, "This is grand; it is well that it does not come often. We would become too fond of such things."
BEHIND MARYE'S HILL
Soon after the Yankees got enough of Stonewall's men on the right, and while the battle was still raging on the left, Kemper's Brigade was called to "attention," and marched off in quick time to the left towards Fredericksburg; going to support the troops on Marye's Hill, who had borne the heat and burden of the day on that wing, passing Gen. R. E. Lee on the road, standing by his war horse, "Traveler," with his staff about him, on a high point from where he could "view the landscape o'er," and a large part of the battlefield as well; I think, however, General Lee was giving more attention to the battle than to the landscape. A battery of heavy artillery was near by, engaged in a duel with the Yankee guns across the river. The brigade did not halt to act as a second in that duel, but hurried on down the telegraph road towards Fredericksburg.
Just about the time the head of the column reached the foot of the long hill, and filed to the left, a Yankee battery from somewhere, presumably from across the river, commenced throwing shells right into the line, exploding in the midst, and knocking men right and left. A few feet in front I saw a shell explode and knock several men of Company H heels over head. All were now moving at a run and soon got out of range of this battery, crossing Hazel Run, and going in the rear of Marye's Hill, lying down there until dark, expecting to be called into action at any moment. But Generals Ransom and Cobb, with their gallant North Carolinians and Georgians, stood like statues behind the rock wall—with the now famous Washington Artillery, under Colonel Walton, behind them on the crest of the hill—and repulsed with great slaughter the frequent and desperate assaults made by the enemy in columns of whole divisions, literally covering the ground with dead Yankees. Not during the war was any piece of ground so thickly covered with dead men as this.
Some years ago I talked with a Yankee soldier who was in one of the assaulting columns at this place, who described the situation there in front of the Confederate lines as, "a hell on earth."
Six separate and distinct assaults the Yankees made with divisions heavily massed, but all failed.
While the brigade lay just back of the hill, spent balls came over from the front, dropping among the men, and now and then wounding some one—a very uncomfortable position to be in, though not very dangerous; the balls had hardly force enough to kill, yet they hit pretty hard. I remember Captain Houston, of Company K, had the breath fairly knocked out of him by being struck about the short ribs with a spent minie ball. The surgeon made an examination and found the skin had not been broken, only a severe bruise, whereupon he remarked, "It is only a furlough wound." No enemy was in sight upon whom the fire could be returned; all that could be done was to lay low, hug mother earth, and await events.
About sundown the firing ceased and the battle of Fredericksburg was over, though no one knew it.
The Yankees had been beaten back at every point they assailed the Confederate lines, but were not routed nor driven back across the river. General Lee, standing on the defensive all this day, still stood awaiting another attack, but none came.
I have often thought how presumptuous it was in Burnside to attack Lee and Jackson in their chosen position; although his forces greatly outnumbered theirs, yet he stood no earthly chance of driving the Confederates from their position. General Burnside used no strategy or tactics in this battle; he just hurled his massed forces against Lee's lines.
"On to Richmond" was the clamor at the North, and Burnside had to do something. He got soundly whipped, for a fact.
SHARP-SHOOTING
At dark the brigade went around the hill to the left and relieved the troops who had been fighting all day. The Eleventh Regiment was placed in a cut in the road on the outskirts of the town, just to the left of the stone wall, remaining here that night, and the next day, sharp-shooting with the Yankees posted in the houses of the town. If a head was raised above the bank for half a minute, "sip" would come a minie ball, the Confederates returning the fire, giving the Yankees tit-for-tat—shot for shot.
It was fun for some of Company C to place a hat or cap on a ramrod, raise it slowly above the bank, and as soon as the Yankee ball whizzed by, rise up and fire at the door or window from whence the puff of smoke came. Some of them would raise a hand above the bank and say, "Look, boys, I am going to get a furlough wound," but they would hold it there only a second, lest it be struck sure enough. I saw here one of the men fire upon two Yankees, one on the back of the other, who let his charge drop at the crack of the gun. I have often regretted not preventing this shot. It was a case of one comrade helping a sick or wounded friend. Then we looked upon them as deadly enemies, and they were, too; revengeful, vindictive, and cruel.
All that day and the next, the 14th and 15th, the two armies lay still, only engaging in sharp-shooting and picket-firing along some parts of the line. On the night of the 15th, the Yankees, like the Arab, folded their tents and quietly stole away in the night, re-crossing the river on their pontoon bridges, which they drew ashore on the north bank, and again all was quiet along the banks of the Rappahannock; "no sound save the rush of the river." But many a soldier was "off duty forever."
In the battle of Fredericksburg the Yankees admitted the loss of between twelve and fifteen thousand men killed, wounded and captured, while the Confederate loss was comparatively light.
The brigade, on the 16th, marched back a mile or two south of Fredericksburg, camping in the woods near Guinea Station, on the Richmond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad, where big snowball battles were fought, regiment pitted against regiment, the field officers on horseback taking part, and getting well pelted too.
While in camp near Fredericksburg, John Lane, a young soldier of Company C, died. He had been sick only a few days. One evening we had orders to be ready to march at sun-up the next morning. I got up that morning quite early to look after him and get him in the ambulance. I first went to where he was sleeping to enquire how he was. I found him lying between two of his sleeping comrades, stark and cold in death, his bed-fellows being unaware that he had passed away while they slept. Blood-stains on his lips told that he had died of hemorrhage. We remained in the vicinity of Fredericksburg until the latter part of February, 1863. Just before the brigade moved from here, an order came to detail one officer from each regiment to go home for supplies of shoes, socks, and clothing for the men. Maj. Kirk Otey, who was in command of the regiment, very kindly gave me this detail without solicitation on my part. Of course, I was delighted to go home, and be with the loved ones, but this great pleasure ended very sadly indeed. A terrible stroke fell on my wife and myself in the death of our little boy, Dixie, who was then nearly eighteen months old. We had gone from my father's, where my wife made her home during the war, to her father's, Capt. William Cocke, when our little boy was taken with a severe spell of acute indigestion, which threw him into convulsions, caused congestion of the brain, and in spite of all that loving hearts and hands and medical skill could do, he died in a few days. We laid him to rest in the old family graveyard at Shady Grove with sad, sad hearts. The day after he was buried I had to leave home for the army, the time of my detail having expired, and the rules of war being inexorable, I had to go. My wife was inconsolable. It was with a sad and heavy heart I left her in care of those I knew full well would do all for her that human love and sympathy could do. Duty called me hence and I had to obey.