CHAPTER V
FREDERICKSBURG
Before night the Union army had three bridges across the Rappahannock,and before morning it had six. The regiment that had crossed held theright bank of the river, that is, the side of the South, and the boatsmoved freely back and forth in the stream.
Yet the main army itself did not yet begin the crossing. Harry slept afew hours before and after midnight, lying in the lee of a little ridgeand wrapped in a pair of heavy blankets, but as he wakened from time totime he heard little from the river. There were no sounds to indicatethat great streams of armed men with their cannon were pouring over thebridges. After the tremendous cannonade of the afternoon the nightseemed very quiet and peaceful.
Fires were burning here and there, but they were not many. TheConfederate generals did not care to furnish beacons for the enemy.When Harry stood up he could catch glimpses of the river, the color ofsteel again, but the farther bank, where the great army of the foe yetlay, was buried in darkness. He wondered why Burnside was not usingevery hour of the night for crossing, but he remembered how the samegeneral had delayed so long at Antietam that Lee and Jackson were ableto save themselves.
He became conscious that it was growing much colder again. The zeroweather of a few days since was returning. Every light puff of wind waslike the stab of an icicle. He was glad that he had a pair of blanketsand that they were heavy ones, too. But he did not ask anything more.It was remarkable how fast the youth of both North and South becameinured to every form of privation. They lived almost like the primitiveman, and many thrived on it.
When he last awoke, about four o'clock in the morning, he did not liedown to sleep again; he walked to the edge of the slope and stared oncemore toward the river and the Union camp. He found Dalton already there,closely examining the river and the shores with his glasses.
"What do you see, George?" Harry asked.
"Not much; they've got all the bridges now they need, but they're notusing them. Why, Harry, the battle's won already. Lee and Jacksondon't merely fight. Plenty of generals are good fighters, but ourleaders measure and weigh the generals who are coming against them,look right inside of them, and read their minds better than thosegenerals can read them themselves."
"I believe you're right, George. And since Burnside is not crossingto-night, he can't attack in the morning."
"Of course not. Lee and Jackson knew all the time that he'd waste aday. They knew it by the way he delayed at Antietam, and they've beenreading his mind all the time he's been sitting here on the banks of theRappahannock. They knew just where he'd attack, just when, too, andthey'll have everything ready at the right point and at the right time."
"Of course they will."
They were but boys, and the great tactics and brilliant victories of Leeand Jackson had overwhelmed the imaginations of both. In their mindsall things seemed possible to their leaders, and they had not the leastfear about the coming battle.
They walked back toward their general's tent and saw him sitting on alog outside. The night was not so dark as the one before. A fair moonand clusters of modest stars furnished some light. The general wasgazing toward Stafford Heights, tapping his bootleg at times with alittle switch. But he turned his gaze upon the two boys as they cameforward and saluted respectfully.
"Well, lads," he said in a voice of uncommon gentleness, "what have youseen?"
"Nothing, sir, but the river and the dark shore beyond," replied Dalton.
"But the enemy will cross to-morrow, and they say they will annihilateus."
"I think, sir, that they will recross the Rappahannock as fast as theywill cross it."
Dalton spoke boldly, because he saw that Jackson was leading him on.
"The right spirit," said Jackson quietly. "I see it throughout the army,and so long as it prevails we cannot lose."
Then he turned his glasses again toward the river and paid them nofurther attention. Officers of greater age and much higher rank camenear, but he ignored them also. His whole soul seemed to be absorbedin the searching examination that he was making of the river and theopposite shore. Harry and Dalton watched him a little while and thenwent back to the shelter of the ridge, where, sitting with their backsagainst the earth, they, too, took up the task of watching.
The earth was frozen hard now, but toward morning they saw the fogrising again.
"It will cover the river, the far shore, and what's left of the town,"said Dalton, "but what do we care? They'll be protected by it as theyadvance on the bridges, but they wouldn't dare move through it to attackus here on the heights."
"Here's the dawn again," said Harry. "I can see the ghost of the sunover there trying to break through, but as there's no wind now the fog'sgoing to hang heavy and long."
Breakfast was served once more to the waiting army on the heights,and then the youths in gray saw that the Union army, having let thenight pass, was beginning to cross the river. When the dawn finallycame many regiments were already over and the wheels of the heavy cannonwere thundering on the bridges. But the Confederate army lay quiet onthe heights, although before morning it had drawn itself in somewhat,shortening the lines and making itself more compact.
"Look how they pour over the bridges!" said Harry, who stood glass toeye. "They come in thousands and thousands, regiments, brigades andwhole divisions. Why, George, it looks as if the whole North wereswarming down upon us!"
"They're a hundred and twenty thousand strong. We know that positively,and they're as brave as anybody. But we're eighty thousand strong,just sitting here on the heights and waiting. Harry, they'll crossthat river again soon, and when they go back they'll be far less than ahundred and twenty thousand!"
He spoke with no sign of exultation. Instead it was the boding tone ofan old prophet, rather than the sanguine voice of youth.
The fog deepened for a little while, and then some of the marchingcolumns were hidden. Out of the mists and gloom came the quick musicof many bands, playing the Northern brigades on to death. Then the foglifted again, and along the heights ran the blaze of the Southern cannonas they sent shot and shell into the black masses of the Union troopscrowding by Fredericksburg.
But as the echoes of the shots died away, Harry heard again the bandsplaying, and from the great Northern army below came mighty rollingcheers.
"The battle is here now, Harry," said Dalton, "and this is the biggestarmy we've ever faced."
The Union brigades, black in the somber winter dawn, seemed endless toHarry. From the point where he stood the advancing columns as theycrossed the river looked almost solid. He knew that men must be falling,dead or wounded, beneath the fire of the Southern guns, but the livingclosed up so fast that he could not see any break in the lines.
"You can't see any sign of hesitation there," said Dalton. "TheNorthern generals may doubt and linger, but the men don't when once theyget the word. What a tremendous and thrilling sight! It may be wickedin me, Harry, but since there is a war and battles are being fought,I'm glad I'm here to see it."
"So am I," said Harry. "It's something to feel that you're at the heartof the biggest things going on in the world. Now we've lost 'em!"
His sudden exclamation was due to a shift of the wind, bringing back thefog again and covering the river, the town and the advancing Union army.The Confederate cannon then ceased firing, but Harry heard distinctlythe sounds made by scores of thousands of men marching, that measuredtread of countless feet, the beat of hoofs, the rumbling of cannonwheels over roads now frozen hard, and the music of many bands stillplaying. The thrill was all the keener when the great army becameinvisible in the fog, although the mighty hum and murmur of variedsounds proved that it was still marching there.
Jackson was on the right of Lee's line. He would be, as usual, in thethick of it. His fighting line ran through deep woods, and he wasprotected, moreover, by the slope up which the Union troops wouldhave to come, if they got near enough. Fourteen guns, guarded by tw
oregiments, were on Prospect Hill at his extreme right, and on his leftthe ravine called Deep Run divided him from the command of Longstreet,which spread away toward Marye's Hill.
Jackson's own line was a mile and a half long and he had thirty thousandmen, while Longstreet and the others had fifty thousand more. Leehimself, directing the whole, rode along the lines on his white horse,and whenever the men saw him cheers rolled up and down. But Lee hadlittle to say. All that needed to be said had been said already.
Harry saw the great commander riding along that morning as calmly as ifhe were going to church. Lee, grave, imperturbable, was the last manto show emotion, but Harry thought once that he caught a gleam from theblue eye as he spoke a word or two with Jackson and went on. As hepassed near them, Harry, Dalton and all the other young officers tookoff their hats, saluted and stood in silence. General Lee raised hisown hat in return, and rode back toward the division of Longstreet.
Harry glanced toward General Jackson, who was also mounted. But he didnot move and the reins lay loose on the animal's neck. Once the horsedropped his head and nuzzled under some leaves for a few blades ofsheltered grass that had escaped the winter. But the general took nonotice. He kept his glasses to his eyes and watched every movement ofthe enemy, when the fog lifted enough for him to see. Presently hebeckoned to Harry.
"Ride over to General Stuart," he said, "and see if he has made anychange in his lines. It is important that our formation be preservedintact and that no gaps be left."
Then General Jackson himself rode to another elevation for a differentview, and the soldiers, from whom he had been hidden before by the fog,gazed at him in amazement. The gorgeous uniform that Stuart had senthim, worn only once before, and which they had thought discarded forever,had been put on again. The old slouch hat was gone, and another,magnificent with gold braid, looped and tasseled, was in its place.Instead of the faithful pony, Little Sorrel, he rode a big charger.
Usually cheers ran along the line whenever he appeared upon the eve ofbattle, but for a little space there was silence as the men gazed at him,many of them not even knowing him. Jackson flushed and looked downapologetically at the rich cloth and gold braid he wore. His eyesseemed to say, "Boys, I've merely put these on in honor of the victorywe're going to win. But I won't do it again."
Then the cheers burst forth, spontaneous and ringing, proving a devotionthat few men have ever been able to command. Stern and unflinching asJackson invariably was in inflicting punishment, his soldiers alwaysregarded him as one of themselves, the best man among them, one fittedby nature to lead democratic equals. After the cheers were over theywatched him as he looked through the glasses from his new position.But he stayed there only a minute or two, going back then to his oldpoint of vantage.
Harry meanwhile had reached Stuart, who, mounted upon a magnificenthorse and clad in a uniform that fairly glittered through the fog itself,was waiting restlessly. But he had not changed any part of his line.Everything remained exactly as Jackson had ordered. He now knew Harrywell and always called him by his first name.
"Have you an order?" he exclaimed eagerly. "Does General Jackson wantus to advance?"
"He has said nothing about an advance," replied Harry tactfully."He merely wanted me to ride down the line and report to him on thespirit of the soldiers as far as I could judge. He knew that your men,General, would be hard to hold."
Stuart threw back his head, shook his long yellow hair and laughed in apleased way.
"General Jackson was right about my men," he said. "It's hard to keepthem from galloping into the battle, and my feelings are with them.Yet we'll have all the fighting we want. Look at the great masses ofthe Union army!"
The fog had lifted again and the Northern columns were still advancing,marching boldly against the intrenched foe, although nearly every one oftheir generals save Burnside himself knew that it was a hopeless task.In all the mighty events of the war that Harry witnessed few were asimpressive to him as this solemn and steady march of the Union army,heads erect and bands playing, into the jaws of death.
He stayed only a few moments with Stuart, returning direct to Jackson.On his way he passed Sherburne, who, with his troop, was on Stuart'sextreme left flank. Harry leaned over, shook hands with him, nothingmore, and rode on. With the lifting of the fog the Southern guns wereagain sending shot and sell into the blue masses. Then, from the otherside of the river, the great Union batteries left on Stafford Heightsbegan to hurl showers of steel toward the hostile ridges a little morethan a mile and a half away. It was long range for those days, but theUnion gunners, always excellent, rained shot and shell upon the Southernposition.
Harry, used now to such a fire, went calmly on until he rejoined Jackson,who accepted with a nod his report that Stuart had not changed his linesanywhere. The general signed to him and the rest of the staff as theyrode toward the center of the Southern line. Harry did not know theirerrand, but he surmised that they were to meet General Lee for the finalconference. The general said no word, but rode steadily on. Unionskirmishers, under cover of the fog and bushes, had crept far in advanceof their columns, and, as the fog continued to thin away and the day tobrighten, they saw Jackson and his staff.
Harry heard bullets whistling sinister little threats in his ear as theypassed, and he heard other bullets pattering on the trees or the earth.They alarmed him more than the huge cannon thundering away from theother side of the river. But the fog, although thin, was still enoughto make the aim of the skirmishers bad, and General Jackson and hisstaff went on their way unhurt.
They reached a little hill near the middle of the Southern bent bow.It had no name then, but it is called Lee's Hill now, because at nineo'clock that morning General Lee, mounted on his white horse, was uponits crest awaiting his generals, to give them his last instructions.Longstreet was already there, and, just as Jackson came, the fog thinnedaway entirely and the sun began to blaze with a heat almost like thatof summer, rapidly thawing the hard earth.
The young officers on the different staffs reined back, while theirchiefs drew together. Yet for a few moments no one said anything.Harry always believed that the veteran generals were moved as he was bythe sight below. The great banks of white fog were rolling away downthe river before the light wind and the brilliant sun.
Now Harry saw the Army of the Potomac in its full majesty. On the wideplain that lay on the south bank of the Rappahannock nearly a hundredthousand men were still advancing in regular order, with scores andscores of cannon on their flanks or between the columns. The army whichlooked somber black in the misty dawn now looked blue in the brilliantsun. The stars and stripes, the most beautiful flag in the world,waved in hundreds over their heads. The bands were still playing,and the great batteries which they had left on Stafford Heights acrossthe river continued that incessant roaring fire over their heads at theSouthern army on its own heights. The smoke from the cannon, whitish incolor, drifted away down the river with the fog, and the whole spectaclestill remained in the brilliant sunlight.
Harry's respect for the Union artillery, already high, increased yetfurther. The field was now mostly open, where all could see, and thegunners not only saw their targets, but were able to take good aim.The storm of shot and shell from Stafford Heights was frightful.It seemed to Harry--again his imagination was alive--that the very airwas darkened by the rush of steel. Despite their earthworks and othershelter the Southern troops began to suffer from that dreadful sleet,but the little conference on Lee's Hill went on.
Longstreet, sitting his horse steadily, looked long at the dense massesbelow.
"General," he said to General Jackson, "doesn't that myriad of Yankeesfrighten you?"
"It won't be long before we see whether we shall frighten them," repliedJackson.
General Lee said a few words, and then Jackson and Longstreet returnedto their respective divisions, Jackson, as Harry noted, showing not theleast excitement, although the resolute Union general, Franklin, wi
thnearly sixty thousand men and one hundred and twenty guns, was marchingdirectly against his own position.
But Harry felt excitement, and much of it. In front of Jackson in agreat line of battle, a mile and a half long, they were moving forward,still in perfect array. But there was something wanting in that hugearmy. It was the lack of a great animating spirit. There was noflaming flag, like the soul of Jackson, to wave in the front of a fieryrush that could not be stopped.
The blue mass hesitated and stopped. Out of it came three Pennsylvaniabrigades led by Meade, who was to be the Meade of Gettysburg, and lessthan five thousand strong they advanced against Jackson. Harry wasamazed. Could it be possible that they did not know that Jackson withhis full force was there?
The Pennsylvanians charged gallantly. The young General Pelham, who hadbeen sent forward with two pieces of artillery, opened on them fiercely,but the heavy batteries covering the advance of the Pennsylvanians drovePelham out of action, although he held the whole force at bay for halfan hour. In his retreat he lost one of his own guns, and then Franklinbrought up more batteries to protect the further advance of Meade andthe Pennsylvanians. The batteries across the river helped them also,never ceasing to send a rain of steel over their troops upon theSouthern army.
But Jackson's men still lay close in the woods and behind theirbreastworks. Nearly all that rain of steel flew over their heads.A shower of twigs and boughs fell on them, but so long as they stayedclose the great artillery fire created terror rather than damage.The men were panting with eagerness, but not one was allowed to pulltrigger, nor was a cannon fired.
"Burnside must think there's but a small force here," said Dalton,"or he wouldn't send so few men against us. Harry, when I look down atthose brigades of Yankees I think of the old Roman salute--it was thatof the gladiators, wasn't it?--'Morituri salutamus.'"
"They're doomed," said Harry.
Jackson, like the others, had dismounted, and he walked forward witha single aide to observe more closely the Union advance. A Northernsharpshooter suddenly rose out of high weeds, not far in front, andfired directly at them. The bullet whistled between Jackson and hisaide. Jackson turned to the young man and said:
"Suppose you go to the rear. You might get shot."
The young man, of course, did not go, and Harry, who was not far behindthem in an earthwork, watched them with painful anxiety. He had seenthe sudden uprising of the Northern skirmisher in the weeds and theflame from the muzzle. The man might not have known that it was Jackson,but he must have surmised from the gorgeous uniform that it was ageneral of importance.
Harry, with the trained eye of a country boy, saw a rippling movementrunning among the weeds. The sharpshooter would reload and fire uponhis general from another point. The second bullet might not miss.
But the second shot did not come. The marksman, doubtless thinking thatanother shot was too dangerous a hazard, had retreated into the plain.General Jackson walked on calmly, inspecting the whole Northern advance,and then returning took up his station on Prospect Hill, where he waitedwith the singular calmness that was always his, for the fit time to openfire.
The leader of the Army of the Potomac was watching from the other sideof the Rappahannock with a terrible eagerness. The man who had notwished the command of the splendid Union army, who had deemed himselfunequal to the task, was now proving the correctness of his ownintuitions. He had taken up his headquarters in a fine colonialresidence on one of the highest points of the bank. He was surroundedthere by numerous artillery, and the officers of his staff crowded theporches, many of them already sad of heart, although they would notlet their faces show it.
But Burnside, now that his men had forced the river in such daringfashion, began to glow with hope. Such magnificent troops as he had,having crossed the deep, tidal Rappahannock in the face of an able anddaring foe, were bound to win. He swept every point of the field withhis glasses, and from his elevated position he and his officers couldsee what the troops in the plain below could not see, the long lines ofthe Confederates waiting in the trenches or in the woods, their cannonposted at frequent intervals.
But Burnside hoped. Who would not have hoped with such troops as his?Never did an army, and with full knowledge of it, too, advance moreboldly to a superhuman task. He saw the gallant advance of thePennsylvanians and he saw them drive off Pelham. Hope swelled intoconfidence. With an anxiety beyond describing he watched the furtheradvance of Meade and his Pennsylvanians.
Stonewall Jackson also was watching from his convenient hill, and hissmall staff, mostly of very young men, clustered close behind him.Jackson no longer used his glasses, as Burnside was doing. Meade andhis Pennsylvanians were coming close to him now. The great Unionbatteries on Stafford Heights must soon cease firing or their shellsand shot would be crashing into the blue ranks.
"It cannot be much longer," said Harry.
"No, not much longer," said Dalton. "We'll unmask mighty soon. How faraway would you say they are now, Harry?"
"About a thousand yards."
"Over a half mile. Then I'll say that when they come within a half mileOld Jack will give the word to the artillery to loosen up."
Harry and George, in their intense absorption, had forgotten about theother parts of the line. In their minds, for the present at least,Jackson was fighting the battle alone. Longstreet was forgotten,and even Lee, for a space, remained unremembered. They were staring atthe brigades which were coming on so gallantly, when the jaws of deathwere already opened so wide to receive them.
"They're at the half mile," said Dalton, who had a wonderful eye fordistance, "and still Old Jack does not give the word."
"The closer the better," said Harry. Glancing up and down the lines hesaw the men bending over their guns and the riflemen in line after linerising slowly to their feet and looking to their arms. In spite ofhimself, in spite of all the hard usage of war through which he had been,Harry shuddered. He did not hate any of those men out there who werecoming toward them so boldly; no, there was not in all those brigades,nor in all the Union army, nor in all the North a single person whom hewished to hurt. Yet he knew that he would soon fight against them withall the weapons and all the power he could gather.
"Eight hundred yards," said Dalton.
"Fire!" was the word that ran like an electric blaze along thewhole Southern front; and Jackson's fifty cannon, suddenly pushingforward from the forest, poured a storm of steel upon the devotedPennsylvanians. Harry felt the earth rocking beneath him, and his earswere stunned by the roaring and crashing of the cannon all about him.
The Union officers on the porches of the colonial mansion across theriver saw that terrible blaze leap from the Confederate line, and theirhearts sank within them like lead. Alarmed as they had been before,they were in consternation now. Some had said that Jackson was notthere, that it was merely a detachment guarding the woods, but now theyknew their mistake.
Harry and Dalton stayed close to their general. Shells and shot fromthe batteries below on the plain were crashing along the trees, but,like those from the great guns on Stafford Heights, they passed mostlyover their heads. The two youths at that moment had little to do butwatch the battle. The Southern riflemen crept forward in the woods,and now their bullets in sheets were crashing into the hostile ranks.The Union division commander hurried up reinforcements, and thePennsylvanians, despite their frightful losses and shattered ranks,still held fast. But the Southern batteries never ceased for a momentto pour upon them a storm of death. With red battle before him and thefever in his blood running high, Harry now forgot all about wounds anddeath. He had eye and thought only for the tremendous panorama passingbefore him, where everything was clear and visible, as if it were anact in some old Roman circus, magnified manifold.
Then came a message from Jackson to hurry to the left with an order fora brigadier who lay next to Longstreet. As he ran through the trees,he heard now the roar of the battle in the center, where the stalw
artLongstreet was holding Marye's Hill and the adjacent heights. A mightyUnion division was attacking there, and out of the south from the embersof Fredericksburg came another great division in column after column.
Harry heard the fire of Jackson slackening behind him, and he knew itwas because Meade had been stopped or was retreating, and he stayed alittle with the brigadier to see how Longstreet received the enemy.The hill and all the ridges about it seemed to be in one red blaze,and every few minutes the triumphant rebel yell, something like theIndian war-whoop, but poured from thirty thousand throats, swelled abovethe roar of the cannon and the crash of the rifles and made Harry'spulses beat so hard that he felt absolute physical pain.
He hurried to Jackson, where the battle, which had died for a littlespace, was swelling again. As the Pennsylvanians were compelled to drawback, leaving the ground covered with their dead, the Union batterieson Stafford Heights reopened, firing again over the heads of the men inblue. The Southern batteries, weaker and less numerous, replied withall their energy. A far-flung shot from their greatest gun, at theextreme southern end of the line, killed the brave Union general, Bayard,as he was sitting under a tree watching his troops.
Gregg, one of the best of the Southern generals, was mortally wounded.A great body of the Pennsylvanians, charging again, reached the shelterof the woods and burst through the Southern line. At another point,Hancock, always cool and brilliant on the field of battle, ralliedshattered brigades and led them forward in person to new attacks.Hooker, who had shown such courage at Antietam, equally brave on thisoccasion, rushed forward with his men at another point. Franklin,Sumner, Doubleday and many other of the best Union generals showedthemselves reckless of death, cheering on their men, galloping up anddown the lines when they were mounted, and waving their swords aloftafter their horses were killed, but always leading.
The Pennsylvanians who had cut into the Southern line were attacked inflank, but they held on to their positions. Jackson did not yet knowof Meade's success. He still stood on Prospect Hill with his staff,which Harry had rejoined. The forest and vast clouds of smoke hid fromhis view the battle, save in his front. Harry saw a messenger coming ata gallop toward the summit of the hill, and he knew by his pale face andbloodshot eyes that he brought bad news.
Jackson turned toward the messenger, expectant but calm.
"What is it?" he asked.
"The enemy have broken through General Archer's division, and hedirected me to say to you that unless help is sent, both his positionand that of General Gregg will be lost."
Jackson showed no excitement. His calm and composure in the face ofdisaster always inspired his men with fresh courage.
"Ride back to General Archer," he said, "and tell him that the divisionof Early and the Stonewall Brigade are coming at once."
He turned his horse as if he would go with the relief, but in a momenthe checked himself, put his field glasses back to his eyes, andcontinued to watch heavy masses of the enemy who were coming up inanother quarter.
Harry did not see what happened when Early and Taliaferro, who now ledthe Stonewall Brigade, fell upon the Pennsylvanians, but the Invincibleswere in the charge and St. Clair told him about it afterward. The Unionmen had penetrated so far that they were entangled in the forest andthickets, and nobody had come up to support them. They were muchscattered, and as their officers were seeking to gather them togetherthe men in gray fell upon them in overpowering force and drove them backin broken fragments. Wild with triumph, the Southern riflemen rushedafter them and also hurled back other riflemen that were coming up totheir support. But on the plain they encountered the matchless Northernartillery. A battery of sixteen heavy guns met their advancing linewith a storm of canister, before which they were compelled to retreat,leaving many dead and wounded behind.
Yet the entire Union attack on Jackson had been driven back, theNorthern troops suffering terrible losses. The watchers on the Phillipsporch on the other side of the river saw the repulse, and again theirhearts sank like lead.
The watchers turned their field glasses anew to the Southern center andleft, where the battle raged with undiminished ferocity. Marye's Hillwas a formidable position and along its slope ran a heavy stone wall.Behind it the Southern sharpshooters were packed in thousands, and everybattery was well placed.
Hancock, following Burnside's orders, led the attack upon theensanguined slopes. Forty thousand men, almost the flower of the Unionarmy, charged again and again up those awful slopes, and again and againthey were hurled back. The top of the hill was a leaping mass of flameand the stone wall was always crested with living fire. No troops evershowed greater courage as they returned after every repulse to thehopeless charge.
At last they could go forward no longer. They had not made theslightest impression upon Marye's Hill and the slopes were strewn withmany thousands of their dead and wounded, including officers of allranks, from generals down. The Union army was now divided into twoportions, each in the face of an insuperable task.
But Burnside, burning with chagrin, was unwilling to draw off his army.The reserve troops, left on the other side of the river, were sentacross, and Fighting Joe Hooker was ordered to lead them to a newattack. Hooker, talking with Hancock, saw that it merely meant anotherslaughter, and sent such word to his commander-in-chief. But Burnsidewould not be moved from his purpose. The attack must be made, andHooker--whose courage no one could question--still trying to prevent it,crossed the river himself, went to Burnside and remonstrated.
Men who were present have told vivid stories of that scene at thePhillips House. Hooker, his face covered with dust and sweat, gallopingup, leaping from his horse, and rushing to Burnside; thecommander-in-chief striding up and down, looking toward Marye's Hill,enveloped in smoke, and repeating to himself, as if he were scarcelyconscious of what he was saying: "That height must be taken! Thatheight must be taken! We must take it!"
He turned to Hooker with the same words, "That height must be takento-day," repeating it over and over again, changing the words perhaps,but not the sense. The gallant but unfortunate man had not wanted to becommander-in-chief, foreseeing his own inadequacy, and now in his agonyat seeing so many of his men fall in vain he was scarcely responsible.
Hooker, his heart full of despair, but resolved to obey, gallopedback and prepared for the last desperate charge up Marye's Hill. Theadvancing mists in the east were showing that the short winter day wouldsoon draw to a close. He planted his batteries and opened a heavy fire,intending to batter down the stone wall. But the wall, supported by anearthwork, did not give, and Longstreet's riflemen lay behind it waiting.
At a signal the Union cannon ceased firing and the bugles blew thecharge. The Union brigades swarmed forward and then rushed up theslopes. The volume of fire poured upon them was unequalled untilPickett led the matchless charge at Gettysburg. Pickett himself washere among the defenders, having just been sent to help the men onMarye's Hill.
Up went the men through the winter twilight, lighted now by the blazeof so many cannon and rifles pouring down upon them a storm of lead andsteel, through which no human beings could pass. They came near to thestone wall, but as their lines were now melting away like snow beforethe sun, they were compelled to yield and retreat again down the slopes,which were strewed already with the bodies of so many of those who hadgone up in the other attacks.
Every charge had broken in vain on the fronts of Jackson and Longstreet,and the Union losses were appalling. Harry knew that the battle was wonand that it had been won more easily than any of the other great battlesthat he had seen. He wondered what Jackson would do. Would he followup the grand division of Franklin that he had defeated and which stilllay in front of them?
But he ceased to ask the question, because when the last charge,shattered to pieces, rolled back down Marye's Hill, the magnificentNorthern artillery seemed to Harry to go mad. The thirty guns of theheaviest weight that had been left on Stafford Heights, and which hadcease
d firing only when the Northern men charged, now reopened in aperfect excess of fury. Harry believed that they must be throwingtons of metal every minute.
Nor was Franklin slack. Hovering with his great division in the plainbelow and knowing that he was beaten, he nevertheless turned one hundredand sixteen cannon that he carried with him upon Jackson's front andswept all the woods and ridges everywhere. The Union army was beatenbecause it had undertaken the impossible, but despite its immense lossesit was still superior in numbers to Lee's force, and above all it hadthat matchless artillery which in defeat could protect the Union army,and which in victory helped it to win.
Now all these mighty cannon were turned loose in one huge effort.Along the vast battle front and from both sides of the river they roaredand crashed defiance. And the Army of the Potomac, which had wastedso much valor, crept back under the shelter of that thundering lineof fire. It had much to regret, but nothing of which to be ashamed.Sent against positions impregnable when held by such men as Lee, Jacksonand Longstreet, it had never ceased to attack so long as the faintestchance remained. Its commander had been unequal to the task, but thelong roll of generals under him had shown unsurpassed courage and daring.
Harry thought once that General Jackson was going to attack in turn,but after a long look at the roaring plain he shrugged his shoulders andgave no orders. The beaten Army of the Potomac preserved its order,it had lost no guns, the brigadiers and the major-generals were full ofcourage, and it was too formidable to be attacked. Three hundred cannonof the first class on either side of the river were roaring and crashing,and the moment the Southern troops emerged for the charge all would besure to pour upon them a fire that no troops could withstand.
General Lee presently appeared riding along the line. The cheers whichalways rose where he came rolled far, and he was compelled to lift hishat more than once. He conferred with Jackson, and the two, goingtoward the left, met Longstreet, with whom they also talked. Then theyseparated and Jackson returned to his own position. Harry, who hadfollowed his general at the proper distance, never heard what they said,but he believed that they had discussed the possibility of a nightattack and then had decided in the negative.
When Jackson returned to his own force the twilight was thickening intonight, and as darkness sank down over the field the appalling fire ofthe Union artillery ceased. Thirteen thousand dead or wounded Unionsoldiers had fallen, and the Southern loss was much less than half.
All of Harry's comrades and friends had escaped this battle uninjured,yet many of them believed that another battle would be fought on themorrow. Harry, however, was not one of these. He remembered some wordsthat had been spoken by Jackson in his presence:
"We can defeat the enemy here at Fredericksburg, but we cannot destroyhim, because he will escape over his bridges, while we are unable tofollow."
Nevertheless the young men and boys were exultant. They did not look sofar ahead as Jackson, and they had never before won so great a victorywith so little loss. Harry, sent on a message beyond Deep Run, foundthe Invincibles cooking their suppers on a spot that they had heldthroughout the day. They had several cheerful fires burning and theysaluted Harry gladly.
"A great victory, Harry," said Happy Tom.
"Yes, a great victory," interrupted Colonel Leonidas Talbot; "but,my friends, what else could you have expected? They walked straightinto our trap. But I have learned this day to have a deep respect forthe valor of the Yankees. The way they charged up Marye's Hill inthe face of certain death was worthy of the finest troops that SouthCarolina herself ever produced."
"That is saying a great deal, Leonidas," said Lieutenant-Colonel HectorSt. Hilaire, "but it is true."
Harry talked a little with the two colonels, and also with Langdon andSt. Clair. Then he returned to his own headquarters. Both armies,making ready for battle to-morrow, if it should come, slept on theirarms, while the dead and the wounded yet lay thick in the forest andon the slopes and plain.
But Harry was not among those who slept, at least not until aftermidnight. He and Dalton sat at the door of Jackson's tent, awaitingpossible orders. Jackson knew that Burnside, with a hundred thousandmen yet in line and no artillery lost, was planning another attack onthe morrow, despite his frightful losses of the day.
The news of it had been sent to him by Lee, and Lee in turn had learnedit from a captured orderly bearing Burnside's dispatches. But neitherHarry nor Dalton knew anything of Burnside's plans. They were merelywaiting for any errand upon which Jackson should choose to send them.Several other staff officers were present, and as Jackson wrote hisorders, he gave them in turn to be taken to those for whom they wereintended.
Harry, after three such trips of his own, sat down again near the doorof the tent and watched his great leader. Jackson sat at a little table,on a cane-bottomed chair, and he wrote by the light of a single candle.His clothing was all awry and he had tossed away the gold-braided cap.His face was worn and drawn, but his eyes showed no signs of weariness.The body might have been weak, but the spirit of Jackson was neverstronger.
Harry knew that Jackson after victory wasted no time exulting, but wasalways preparing for the next battle. The soldiers, both in his owndivision and elsewhere, were awakened by turns, and willing thousandsstrengthened the Southern position. More and deeper trenches wereconstructed. New abatis were built and the stone wall was strengthenedyet further. Formidable as the Southern line had been to-day, Burnsidewould find it more so on the morrow.
After midnight, Jackson, still in his gorgeous uniform and with bootsand spurs on, too, lay down on his bed and slept about three hours.Then he aroused himself, lighted his candle and wrote an hour longer.Then he went to the bedside of the dying Gregg and sat a while with him,the staff remaining at a respectful distance.
When they rode back--they were mounted again--they passed along thebattle front, and the sadness which was so apparent on Jackson's faceaffected them. It was far toward morning now and the enemy was lightinghis fires on the plain below. The dead lay where they had fallen,and no help had yet been given to those wounded too seriously to move.It had been a tremendous holocaust, and with no result. Harry knew nowthat the North would never cease to fight disunion. The South could winseparation only at the price of practical annihilation for both.
The night was very raw and chill, and not less so now that morningwas approaching. The mists and fogs, which as usual rose from theRappahannock, made Harry shiver at their touch. In the hollows of theridges, which the wintry sun seldom reached, great masses of ice werepacked, and the plain below, cut up the day before by wheels and hoofsand footsteps, was now like a frozen field of ploughed land.
The staff heard enough through the fogs and mists to know that the Armyof the Potomac was awake and stirring. The Southern army also arose,lighted its fires, cooked and ate its food and waited for the enemy.Before it was yet light Harry, on a message to Stuart, rode to the topof Prospect Hill with him, and, as they sat there on their horses,the sun cleared away the fog and mist, and they saw the Army of thePotomac drawn up in line of battle, defiant and challenging, ready toattack or to be attacked.
Harry felt a thrill of admiration that he did not wish to check.After all, the Yankees were their own people, bone of their bone,and their courage must be admired. The Army of the Potomac, too,was learning to fight without able chiefs. The young colonels andmajors and captains could lead them, and there they were, after theirmost terrible defeat, grim and ready.
"The lion's wounded, but he isn't dead, by any means," said Harry toStuart.
"Not by a great deal," said Stuart.
There was much hot firing by skirmishers that day and artillery duelsat long range, but the Northern army, which had fortified on the plain,would not come out of its intrenchments, and the Southern soldiers alsostuck to theirs. Burnside, who had crossed the river to join his men,had been persuaded at last that a second attack was bound to end likethe first.
The next day Bu
rnside sent in a flag of truce, and they buried the dead.The following night Harry, wrapped to the eyes in his great cloak,stood upon Prospect Hill and watched one of the fiercest storms that hehad ever seen rage up and down the valley of the Rappahannock. Many ofthe Southern pickets were driven to shelter. While the whole Southernarmy sought protection from the deluge, the Army of the Potomac, still ahundred thousand strong, and carrying all its guns, marched in perfectorder over the six bridges it had built, breaking the bridges downbehind it, and camping in safety on the other side. The river wasrising fast under the tremendous rain, and the Southern army could findno fords, even though it marched far up the stream.
Fredericksburg was won, but the two armies, resolute and defiant,gathered themselves anew for other battles as great or greater.
The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High Tide Page 6