Waitt, Ernest Linden, History of the Nineteenth regiment, Massachusetts volunteer infantry , 1861-1865

Chapter 23: Fredericksburg. December 13, 1862.

Dinner was served a little before noon and while it was being eaten a shell burst directly overhead, causing some of the men to move hastily away. One lieutenant was struck on the arm as he was pouring out a cup of coffee. He dropped the kettle but fortunately none of the beverage was lost. He was unharmed, although he was lame for several days. Almost before dinner was concluded orders were received to ‘Fall In’ and, as everyone was anxious to get into the fight, which they knew was soon to come, the line was quickly formed.

The Ninth Corps was in advance, the Second lay in support, in line by Division,—Hancock, French and Howard. From far away upon the left came the roar of Franklin's guns, but the order to advance did not come. Sumner fumed, the fiery Hooker fretted and swore. Hancock stood leaning upon his sword, a silent statue of manly beauty, brave and true as handsome and beloved. French's red face grew redder, and Howard prayed.

As the men waited, from the centre came the sound of a sputtering fire that grew momentarily louder.

Hooker is engaged

‘Why do we wait? Yet we wait! We wait!’

Now the Ninth Corps dresses its lines, deploys its columns, and advances. The storm bursts upon the right with dread, magnificent power. The concentric fire of many guns sweeps [178] the heroic Ninth. They near the foot of the hill and from behind the Sunken Road and the stone wall bursts a bright sheet of flame. The blue line melts away, but still it staggers forward. Reno's old brigade reaches the road. They hold their own. They gather head. The enemy flee up the hill and the day is half won.

Hancock rushes forward with his division, but Early flings himself down the hill with his fresh troops,—a few minutes' wild work and the position is lost again, and the shattered brigades of the Ninth fall back in the rear of Hancock's advancing line.

A little while the anxious forces held in reserve await the reforming of the broken Ninth, Then word comes that Reynolds has turned the enemy's right, and they hope,—and wait.

Then they hear that Reynolds has not been supported and has lost what he so bravely won. Then Hancock is moving again. Steadily and swiftly his gallant forces near the rebel works. Again pelts that storm of shell upon the open plain. Again opens that rain of Hell from the Sunken Road in front. Again the line of blue staggers up that grassy slope, to melt away at the foot of the hill and fall back, shattered, bleeding and breathless.

The guns of Franklin and Hooker thunder on the left and centre. French advances. The shattered commands of Hancock and of Parks give him passage and the splendid Third Division rushes over the bloody slope to certain death beyond.

With awful rage the anxiously waiting lines held in abeyance see them slaughtered as were those who had gone before, and in half an hour French reels back with but half his heroes.

The waiting line closes up, belts are tightened, all extra weights thrown away. Silence falls upon the ranks, for all know that they must traverse those heaps of dead; that they, too, must soon face that storm of death.

They wait, and at last the order comes to advance.

At three o'clock in the afternoon the lines move forward, slowly at first, and then with swifter pace. The Twentieth Massachusetts and the Seventh Michigan were with the Nineteenth and, marching by the left flank, the regiments followed the bank of the river for a short distance, then, turning suddenly [179] to the right, marched up Hanover Street in company front. Here were many fine buildings, but the street was enfiladed by the rebel guns. Many men were lying dead and wounded in the middle of the street. Now and then a shell came bounding along. To avoid the shells, the men were ordered to take to the side-walk, and the march was continued at a quick-step. Gen. O. O. Howard was met and he spoke an encouraging word as he passed. The wounded were moving to the rear in crowds, a sickening sight. The houses soon were further and further apart but the shells, on the contrary, came nearer and nearer. The air was full of missiles. Soon some fences were encountered and the men hastily crawled over, through or under them and then crossed several yards surrounding some of the houses. Soon they reached the canal which intersects the city and found the bridges were crowded with fugitives, wounded men and stretcher bearers. The regiment pushed across the ditch, down one side and up the other,—and hurried forward, but soon filed to the right and formed in line of battle in a field, under cover of a steep bank which protected them from the rebel shots and which formed the edge of a plateau reaching to the rebel rifle pits at the foot of the fortified hills.

While the regiment was waiting for the line to be extended to the right, the Nineteenth Maine regiment filed past. This was their ‘Baptism of Fire.’ It was amusing to see the effect of the cannon shot on them. As each shot passed over the regiment, from right to left, the men would duck their heads successively like the waving of grain in the wind. The rebels had a good line shot, but could not depress their pieces enough to hit them.

The line of the Nineteenth Massachusetts had hardly formed when Capt. Weymouth ordered ‘Forward.’ Up the ascent they sprang, and on toward the rifle pits of the enemy. The plain over which they had to charge was some four hundred yards in width and had a gradual rise to the base of the Heights. With its colors well to the front, the regiment,—a mere handful of men,—advanced across the plain. The dead of Parke, of Hancock and of French lay all around them, the grass was [180] slippery with their blood, their ghastly lips seemed to appeal for vengeance,—and with fierce yells the line rushed on.

When the men reached the crest of the bank they were in full view of the enemy's works from which the batteries and infantry opened upon them with such effect as literally to sweep them, reeling and staggering, back to cover. Shells and canister poured down upon them like rain, for not only did the line have to withstand the awful fire from the front, but was subjected to an enfilading fire from the batteries on the rebel left.

The two color bearers, Sergt. Ronello B. Creasey, of Co. I, and Corp. Winfield Rappell, of Co. B, were among the first to fall, but the colors were instantly picked up and the line hastily withdrew.

Re-forming, under cover of the canal bank, the regiment again advanced across the plain toward the Heights, under the heavy cross fire from the rebel batteries which covered every inch of the field up to the point where they could no longer depress their guns. In this charge Capt. Weymouth was wounded in the leg and fell to the ground. (His leg was afterward amputated). The command then devolved upon Capt. Mahoney and, almost immediately, he too fell with wounds in the arm and side. Again the color bearers were shot down.

Sergt. Charles B. Brown, of Company G, was the seventh man to grasp the colors and he quickly received a wound in the head which stunned him. Lieut. Hume, thinking the wound a mortal one, told him to give up the colors, but he refused saying, ‘I will not give them to any man.’ Finding that he was fast becoming weak, Brown rushed out in advance of the line, staggered and fell, driving the color lance into the earth; and there he lay, dizzy and bleeding, still grasping the lance with both hands until Lieut. Hume caught them up.

A color corporal then took it, while Edgar M. Newcomb grasped the other, the bearer of which had also fallen. Lieut. Newcomb shouted ‘Forward’ and the quivering line sprang on again, but as he spoke the brave lieutenant was hit by a shot which passed through and shattered the bones of both legs below the knees. As he fell, he handed his color to Second Lieut [181] J. G. B. Adams, who was then in command of Co. I. ‘Don't let them go down!’ exclaimed Newcomb.

（‘It seemed as if I grasped for death, expecting every moment to be my last,’ said Lieut. Adams afterward.)

Instantly the color corporal with the other flag was felled by a wound and it was grasped by Sergt. Chas. L. Merrill, of Co. C (Newcomb's Company) and he, too, fell wounded. The man who seized the flag when Sergt. Merrill fell was at once struck down by a ball and as the color again dropped, Lieut. Adams caught that also.

He now held the two flags of the regiment in his hands. Through the staff of one of them a ball had passed and killed its bearer, and a cannon shot had torn a great hole in the centre of the national banner. Directed by a sudden instinct, and realizing that it meant sure death and probably the loss of both colors if he stayed where he was, Lieut. Adams rushed across the field to the left and reached the shelter of a fence. The men followed him and here the regiment was reformed and changed front. Then as they lay close to the ground, the men had a good opportunity to reply to the fire of the rebel sharpshooters, who from their perfect cover of rifle-pits and stone wall had poured volley after volley upon them at short range. (For his gallantry in this action Second Lieutenant Adams was promoted to First Lieutenant and afterward given a medal of honor by Congress.)

Here the men had an opportunity to look over the roll. Capt. Weymouth, commanding the regiment, had lost a leg; Capt. Mahoney had been wounded in the arm and in the side; Capt. Dunn had been wounded in the leg; Lieut. Newcomb, wounded mortally; Lieut. Dodge, wounded in the abdomen; Lieut. Palmer, in the leg; Lieut. Chubbuck, slightly, while Lieut. Thomas Claffey, of Lowell, had been killed while he was in front of the line cheering the men on. Of the 300 men engaged, 104 were lost, the aggregate being: commissioned officers killed, 1; wounded, 8; enlisted men killed, 13; wounded, 75; missing, 7.

The command of the regiment devolved upon Capt. J. F. Plympton and it was ordered to fall back to the position of the rest of the brigade, and this was done in good order. At midnight, [182] the regiment was relieved, marched back to the city in the rain and bivouaced.

The slaughter had been beyond description. It is said that on the evening of the 13th, because of the dead and wounded the plain looked blue, but on the following morning it appeared white, for the enemy had stripped the dead for the sake of their clothing. The fate of the men in the First and Second divisions of the Second Corps, who had preceded that containing the Nineteenth Massachusetts had been similar to its own. Gen. Burnside's official report of his losses was: Killed, 1180; wounded, 9028; missing, 2145.

Says Sergt. Foster of the regiment: ‘No one who has not witnessed such a scene can form any idea of the awfulness of that hour, the fearful screeching of the shells, the ominous buzzing and vicious whistling of canister and the endless ‘ping ping’ of the minie balls, while the reports of the musketry was one continual crash and, far above all, the thunderous tones of hundreds of cannon, completely drowned the encouraging shouts of the officers. The whole line was enveloped in a cloud of sulphurous smoke, almost hiding the regiments from each other and through which crimson flames from muskets and cannon darted fiery tongues. What carnage! Comrades fell all around you, mangled and bleeding; the colors go down, but are raised to fall again and again, the line moves forward with decreasing speed until when past the centre of the plain it finally stops, fires a few spasmodic volleys, wavers, breaks and flees to the protection of the bank from whence it had started. Then, without delay, it re-forms, moves up the bank and the tragedy is reenacted. Once more the scattered remnants form a regimental line and are led forward with the same result.’

Bleeding at every pore, stunned and sore, the heroic division reeled back to the town to count its dead and bind up its wounds.

In the Nineteenth Massachusetts, Weymouth, Mahoney and Dunn had gone down; Newcomb had fallen on the slope, with the colors clasped to his breast; Adams and Hume, both were shot; Chubbuck's blood stained the white standard of the Commonwealth; Merrill, stretched upon a couch of pain, had linked his name with those twin emblems of the cause; Dodge [183] had borne bloody laurels from that stricken field; Charles Devereux limped with pain; Jewett bore four wounds from the affray, and Mumford and Robinson, it was sadly felt, would never march again.

There were many peculiar incidents of the battle, among the men of the regiment. Capt. John C. Chadwick, of Co. C, had received a letter just as he started into the fight and had put it into his pocket without reading. After the battle he drew it from his pocket in two pieces, cut in twain, as if by a knife, by a minie ball which had passed through his knapsack.

Lieut. Newcomb had been left mortally wounded upon the field and after the men reached a place of safety behind the fence, Capt. Chadwick with First Sergt. Wallace T. George, of Co. C, dashed back upon the field to get him. ‘Don't touch my legs’ cried Newcomb, as they undertook to lift him. They took him by the arms, and, dragging his legs along the ground amid a shower of bullets, they got him through the fence, put him on a stetcher and sent him across the river to the Lacy House, where he died a week later.

That accomplished soldier, Gen. Couch, says the men were asked to conquer an impossibility.

Gen. Longstreet says: ‘The charges had been desperate and bloody, but utterly hopeless. I thought, as I saw the Federals come again and again to their death, that they deserved success, if courage and daring could entitle soldiers to victory.’

General Longstreet described the defence of Marye's Heights as follows:

‘An idea of how well Marye's Heights was protected may be obtained from the following incident: Gen. E. P. Alexander, my engineer and superintendent of artillery, had been placing the guns, and, in going over the field with him before the battle, I noticed an idle cannon. I suggested that he place it so as to aid in covering the field in front of Marye's Hill. He answered, “General, we cover that ground now so well that we will comb it as if with a fine comb. A chicken could not live on that field when we open on it.” Gen. Lee, who was with me on Lee's Hill, became uneasy when he saw the attacks so promptly renewed and pushed forward with such persistence, and feared [184] the Federals might break through our lines. After the third charge he said to me “General, they are massing very heavily and will break your line, I am afraid.” “General, I replied, if you put every man now on the other side of the Potomac on that field to approach me over the same line, and give me plenty of ammunition, I will kill them all before they reach my line.” ’

Lieut. Wm. L. Palmer was seriously wounded and was being carried to the rear by two of his men when a recruit dashed past at a lively pace. The lieutenant grabbed him and struck him over the shoulders with the flat of his sword, calling him a coward. The man replied: ‘I know I'm a coward, and a damned coward’ and, breaking away from the Lieutenant's weak grasp, ran down the street, amid a shower of bullets, disappearing among the crowd at the bridge. He had been at the very front in the fight but had become suddenly panic-stricken and fled.

At the battle of Gettysburg, a few months later, this man was in the front line on the second day and on the third day, despite the fact that he had a premonition that he was to be killed, he moved bravely forward with his company to meet the advancing foe and fell—a hero.

On the morning following the engagement at Marye's Heights, the regiment received orders to take position in the rear where it remained until Monday at 7 P. M., when it advanced to the next line. A detail was then made of one commissioned officer and 25 men for a fatigue party. After having been gone an hour, they returned and orders came to re-cross the river and cover the retreat of the army. The regiment reached Falmouth after midnight. Private Joseph Seaver, of Co. B, was killed while crossing the bridge in the darkness.

It had been claimed by some that the Twentieth Massachusetts regiment took part on the crossing of the Rappahannock, to Fredericksburg, in the open pontoon boats. It is certain that some few men of the Twentieth did get into the boats with the Nineteenth, but the Twentieth as a body, followed the Nineteenth in the boats, after the Nineteenth with the Seventh Michigan, had landed and driven the enemy back. [185]

The official reports on this subject are as follows:

Report of Gen. O. O. Howard Commanding 2d Div.

2d Corps, dated Dec. 19th, 1862 to Corps. H. Q.

‘I think the Seventh Michigan Regiment, also the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts, deserve honorable and public mention for gallantry in crossing the river and securing a foothold in the town of Fredericksburg on the evening of the 11th instant.’

The crossing of the river in the boats gave rise to one of the poems written during the war by George H. Boker of Philadelphia.

They leaped into the rocking shallops—
     Ten offered where one could go;
And the breeze was alive with laughter
     Till the boatmen began to row.

And many a brave, stout fellow
     Who sprang in the boats with mirth
Ere they made that fatal crossing
     Was only lifeless earth.

[186] Cheer after cheer we sent them
     As only Armies can,—
Cheers for old Massachusetts.—
     Cheers for Young Michigan.

They formed in line of battle,
     Not a man was out of place;
Then with levelled steel they hurled them
     Straight in the rebel's face.

Casualities at Fredericksburg, Dec. 11-13, 1862.

killed in action or died of wounds:

wounded in action:

[187]

[188]

[189]

missing.

Recapitulation.

[190]

the roster of the regiment on December 8, 1862, was as follows:

[191]

The following is an abstract of the roster of the officers of the regiment at the close of the year, 1862:

1 Major killed at Glendale.

1 Assistant Surgeon promoted Surgeon of 14th regiment.

1 Chaplain transferred to 22nd regiment.

1 Major promoted Lieutenant Colonel 41st Regt. Mass. Vol.

1 Assistant Surgeon died in hospital.

2 Captains promoted Majors.

1 Captain killed. Battle of Antietam, Sept. 17th, 1862.

7 First Lieutenants promoted Captains.

1 First Lieutenant killed battle Fair Oaks, June 30, 1862.

1 First Lieutenant died of wounds received at Fredericksburg.

13 Second Lieutenants promoted First Lieutenants.

2 Second Lieutenants killed in battle.

1 Second Lieutenant discharged by sentence of Court Martial.

1 Second Lieutenant dropped from the rolls.

22 Second Lieutenants having been taken from enlisted men.

1 First Lieutenant and 1 Second Lieutenant having been taken from civilians.

37 Commissions have been made for this regiment during the year 1862.

On December 31st, 1862, there was a total of:

The regimental return, dated Dec. 31st, 1862, shows the following:

Col. E. W. Hinks, absent with leave, wounded Sept. 17.

Lieut. Col. Arthur F. Devereux, in command of 3d Brig. 2nd Div. 2nd Corps.

Maj. Edmund Rice, absent with leave, severely wounded Sept.17.

Adjt. William L. Palmer, absent, severely wounded Dec. 13.

[192]

[193]

The following enlisted men had been transferred to the regular army.

Private Patrick Kelly, F, Oct. 23, 1862 to Batt. A., 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Charles Sharkey, F, Oct. 23, 1862, to Batt. A, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Geo. F. Goodwin, F, Oct. 26, 1862, to Batt. C, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Timothy Quinn, F, Oct. 25, 1862, to Batt. C, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Geo. A. Burnham, F, Nov. 13, 1862, Batt. C, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private John Moran, F, Oct. 26, 1862, to Batt. M, 3rd U. S. Arty. [194]

Private Wm. Gardner, F, Oct. 26, 1862, to Batt. M, 3rd U. S. Arty.

Private Michael Riley, B, Nov. 15, 1862, to 15th U. S. Inf.

Private James Welsh, E, Nov. 10, 1862, to 15th U. S. Inf.

Private Jeremiah Silk, B, Oct. 25, 1862, to Batt. C, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Wm. P. Dennis, H, Oct. 22, 1862, to Batt. C, 4th U. S. Arty.

Private Geo. H. A. Ball, Nov. 4, 3rd U. S. Cav.