A Thousand Words a Battle: Fredericksburg

Battle of Fredericksburg
December 13, 1862

Fredericksburg – Chris Heisey

During the Battle of Fredericksburg, the Irish Brigade in the II Corps of the Army of the Potomac rushed closest to the Confederate position at Marye’s Heights. They had witnessed the placing of the pontoon bridges on December 11, 1862, then crossed into the streets already damaged by urban warfare and plundering, and prepared to go into battle on December 13. The Union’s attacks against Marye’s Heights followed other assaults further downriver, where—for a brief period—soldiers in blue pierced the Confederate line, but could not follow up their success. Instead, the new focus of the generals threw brigade after brigade through the streets of the town, through a network of obstacles, and across fields toward the Confederate position on the infamous heights.

Private William McCarter served in the 116th Pennsylvania Infantry, the newest regiment in the famed Irish Brigade. McCarter’s descriptions of the battle are vivid:

Silenced reigned among the rank and file while generals, followed by orderlies, dashed up and down the lines giving their final orders to regimental commanders. All was ready. Then came that most terrible military command, “Fix Bayonets.” This was done amid the yells and cheers of the men, resounding from one end of the valley to the other. The enemy undoubtedly must have heard. And as the clink, clink, clink of the cold, glittering steel being placed in position sounded down the long rows of soldiers, many of them soon to lay down their lives on the altar of their country, one could not help thinking that war, indeed, is sad. Well did the Irish Brigade know what this meant and what the nature of the work was which now laid before them. Well did the men realize that in preparing to use their favorite weapon of war, so dreaded by the enemy, especially when accompanied by the green flag, that a fearful, bloody struggle laid before them. . . .

The three brigades I have named, Meagher’s, Zook’s and Caldwell’s numbering in all about 5,800 or 6,000 men in double line of battle, were ordered to advance. With a bound and a yell characteristic of perhaps Irish soldiers only, the men of the Irish Brigade did so, determined to force their passage at all hazards with the point of the bayonet. They saw what had befallen the men of French’s noble division only a short time before. With lips closely pressed together, they were bent on revenging it if at all possible to do so. On they went until they reached the top of the hill and the level ground within 200 yards of the first line of Rebel rifle pits and a long stone wall running close along their front.

A blinding fire of musketry met them in the face. It staggered the line for a few seconds. But the Irish Brigade soon recovered, although after the loss of several men killed and many wounded. . . Thanks to the first Rebel musketry fire upon us here, I came very near “stopping a ball” myself. . . . But onward pushed our line, firing as it advanced.

The storm of battle increased its fury and the crash of musketry, mingled with the roar of cannon from the peaks was terrific. To reach the stone wall was the first object in view. We certainly tried hard to do it. When a large part of the distance had been gained and we were within 50 paces of this wall, Cobb’s solid brigade of Rebel infantry, said to have been 2,400 strong, suddenly sprang up from behind it. They had been entirely concealed from our view until that moment. The Rebs poured volley after volley into our faces, at once stopping our further progress. In connect with their fire, other Rebel infantry, in long lines behind earthworks and in rifle pits on Marye’s Heights, were blazing away at us at the same time. It was simply madness to advance as far as we did and an utter impossibility to go further. . . .

The rattle of musketry was now deafening. Our fire against the enemy was rapid and constant, but its effect could not be seen for the stone wall in front. The Rebel fire. . . . was not beginning to tell fearfully among the men of my regiment, ploughing great gaps in the ranks. Every third man had fallen. . . To make matters worse, we had lost nearly all our officers. . . . But still my regiment held its ground.[1]

In this advanced and exposed position, McCarter fell, badly wounded. His comrades rescued him, and he eventually journeyed through several field hospitals, receiving aid that saved his life.

Though McCarter survived, thousands of others in blue and gray did not. When the battle smoke cleared, the Union army retreated to the north side of the Rappahannock River, leaving the Confederates still in possession of the high ground.

— Sarah Kay Bierle

Part of a series.

[1] William McCarter, edited by Kevin E. O’Brien, My Life In The Irish Brigade: The Civil War Memoirs of Private William McCarter, 116th Pennsylvania Infantry (Cambridge: Da Capo Press, 2003) Pages 176-179.



4 Responses to A Thousand Words a Battle: Fredericksburg

  1. Compelling story. When reading it, I thought of the 116 th’s monument @ Gettysburg on Stony Hill( a beautiful remembrance of a fallen warrior).

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