Writing an
official report of a Civil War regiment in battle was a daunting task. Battle
was chaotic. No colonel could get all the facts or double-check everything his
subordinates told him. No matter how omniscient he might seem to his men or
perceive himself to be, he could not witness enough in the heat of battle to
know how his men had performed or understand his regiment’s role in the larger
outcome.
.jpg) |
| Col. Aaron F. Stevens was seriously ill at Fredericksburg. |
Worse, the report
was a deadline writing job with inherently conflicting goals: to give a
narrative of what happened while making his troops – and by extension his
leadership – look good.
Below you’ll
find Col. Aaron F. Stevens’s report to New Hampshire Gov. Nathaniel S. Berry
about the 13th New Hampshire’s role in the battle of Fredericksburg on Dec. 13, 1862. The battle was a debacle, with Gen. Ambrose Burnside sending wave after wave of Union troops uphill toward an impregnable Confederate position. Stevens
submitted his report nine days after the battle.
In
introducing it, it would be churlish to point out every inflated assertion or
omitted fact. I will say that the casualty figures for Stevens’s regiment did
not reflect the pitched, desperate battle his report described. And I will
quote briefly from two other sources, a comprehensive history of the battle and
a letter home written by one of his men.
The history,
Francis Augustin O’Reilly’s The
Fredericksburg Campaign, reports that Stevens “was too sick to keep up with
his regiment, much less keep order.” He had lost 20 pounds and, to his men, looked
10 years older. Too sick to ride his horse, he had dismounted and walked until
he plunged into a bog and was stuck up to his knees. One of his men pulled him
out, and he lay on the ground to rest until his horse could be brought up.
A “jumbled
mass” of Stevens’s men did attack the wall that protected the Confederate line at Fredericksburg.
And because it was dark and the rebels thought the battle was over, the
soldiers of the 13th New Hampshire managed to get close to the enemy before a rebel volley sent most of them tumbling back. But it was an inglorious
retreat, successful mainly because the rebels could not see them in the dark
and fired high.
Here is a report
by a young private, Joseph Prime:
“Well, we
formed in line of battle of our whole Brigade, the 25th N.Y. Reg., and the 13th
N.H. Reg and the 10th N.H. next. Well we charged to within 20 yards of a
battery (in the dark) when we were met by a regular blaze of rebel musketry and
were shot down like everything when the 25th N.Y. broke and run through our
ranks and caused the 13th to break and run and we received a destructive fire
from one of the New York Reg or some other Union Reg.
 |
| Piece of piano key sent home from Fredericksburg by Private Joseph Prime. |
“And we all
pitched into a deep gulley or ditch after running some thirty yards and lay
there until the firing ceased when we got out and run the best way that we
could till we got behind a hill where we reformed and marched back to the city
and slept on our arms that night. . . . I guess there is about 35 that is
killed, wounded, or missing. . . . There was just four wounded out of our
company and none killed. By the way there was a piano in Fredericksburg and I
am going to send you a piece of the Ivory from one of the keys of that piano to
remember Fredericksburg by.”
Here is what
Col. Stevens reported to the governor of New Hampshire:
Headquarters
Thirteenth Regiment N. H. Vols, Opposite Fredericksburg, VA., December 22, 1862.
To His Excellency Nathaniel S. Berry,
Governor of New-Hampshire:
 |
| Gov. Nathaniel Springer Berry |
Sir: I have
the honor to report to you the operations of the regiment under in command
since their departure from Camp Casey, near Fairfax Seminary, Virginia,
including the battle of Fredericksburgh, on the thirteenth inst.
My regiment
moved from Camp Casey on the first inst, with the First brigade of Casey’s
division, consisting of the Fifteenth Connecticut, Thirteenth New-Hampshire,
Twelfth Rhode Island, and Twenty-fifth and Twenty-seventh New Jersey
volunteers, under command of the senior Colonel, Dexter B. Wright, of the
Fifteenth Connecticut volunteers.
The first day
we reached Uniontown, some two miles southerly from Washington City. We
encamped the second day near Piscataway, and the third day about six miles
northerly from Port Tobacco. We passed Port Tobacco about noon of the fourth
day, and encamped for the night some six miles west of that place. The fifth
day, in the midst of a cold and violent snow-storm, we encamped about one and a
half miles from Liverpool Point, or Bluebank, as it is sometimes called, a
point on the Potomac nearly opposite Acquia Creek. On the morning of the sixth
day, we broke camp and marched to Bluebank, where we were detained some eight
hours awaiting transportation; the soldiers during that time being exposed to a
keen, cold, and piercing wind which swept down the river and across the plateau
where they were halted.
My regiment
was ferried across the Potomac about six o‘clock Saturday evening. The weather
was extremely cold, and the men suffered much from its severity. From Acquia
Creek, where we landed, we marched about two miles and encamped in a ravine
well sheltered from the northerly winds, but filled with snow. The baggage of
the field and staff-officers, including their blankets, mess-chests, eatables,
etc., was, through the inefficiency and neglect of the transportation
officials, left on the Maryland side of the river, and notwithstanding the
faithful exertions of brigade and regimental quartermasters, was detained from
us nearly two days. Consequently we were without blankets or shelter for two
nights of intense cold weather. The result in my own case was an attack of
illness from which I have not yet recovered, though I have had the good fortune
thus far to be able to be on duty. I was, however, only a sufferer in common
with others. In this encampment we remained until the next Tuesday afternoon,
when we moved to this point, reaching here Wednesday afternoon. Our brigade was
then broken up, and my regiment was assigned to the First brigade, (Colonel
Hawkins,) Third division, (Brig-Gen. Getty,) Ninth army corps, (Brig-Gen.
Wilcox,) in Major-Gen. Sumner‘s right grand division. This brigade is composed
of the Ninth, (Hawkins's Zouaves,) Eight ninth and One Hundred and Third New York,
Tenth and Thirteenth New-Hampshire, and Twenty-fifth New-Jersey volunteers.
On Wednesday
evening we received orders to be ready to move the next morning. Thursday we
were in line all day, ready and waiting orders to move and listening silently
to the heavy cannonading and sharp musketry, principally on our right, or
watching the smoke, rising from the burning buildings of Fredericksburgh,
directly in our front. Just after dark we moved to the river, and crossed,
without opposition, the pontoon bridge near the lower end of the city. My
regiment took up its position for the night in Caroline street, one of the
principal streets of the city, and threw out two companies, company B, Capt.
Dodge, and company E, Captain Julien, as pickets toward the enemy.
This position
we occupied until Saturday morning, the two companies on picket-duty being
relieved by company C, Capt. Bradley, and company G, Lieutenant Forbush
commanding.
At an early
hour on Saturday morning, the eventful and disastrous day of the battle, we
took up our position with the brigade under the hill on the bank of the river,
just below the bridge which we crossed on Thursday night. Here we remained
under arms the entire day, our position being about a mile distant from the
line of the enemy's batteries. Occasionally, during the day, fragments of shell
from his guns reached us or passed over us, falling in the river and beyond, doing
but little damage. One of our own guns, however, on the opposite bank of the
river, which threw shells over us toward the enemy, was so unfortunately
handled as to kill two men and wound several others in our brigade. After what
your Excellency has read and heard concerning the battle of Fredericksburgh, I
need not say to you that the fierceness of the fight during that long, bloody
and disastrous day exceeds any description of which my pen is capable.
As yet all
the accounts which I have seen or read from Union or rebel sources approach not
in delineation the truthful and terrible panorama of that bloody day. Twice
during the day I rode up Caroline Street to the centre of the city toward the
point where our brave legions were struggling against the terrible combination
of the enemy's artillery and infantry, whose unremitting fire shook the earth
and filled the plain in rear of the city with the deadly missiles of war. I saw
the struggling hosts of freedom stretched along the plain, their ranks ploughed
by the merciless fire of the foe. I saw the dead and wounded, among them some
of New-Hampshire’s gallant sons, borne back on the shoulders of their comrades
in battle, and laid tenderly down in the hospitals prepared for their
reception, in the houses on either side of the street as far as human
habitations extended. I listened to the roar of battle and the groans of the
wounded and dying. I saw in the crowded hospitals the desolation of war, but I
heard from our brave soldiers no note of triumph, no word of encouragement, no
syllable of hope that for us a field was to be won.
In the
stubborn, unyielding resistance of the enemy I could see no point of pressure
likely to yield to the repeated assaults of our brave soldiers, and so I
returned to my command to wait patiently for the hour when we might be called
to share in the duty and danger of our brave brethren engaged in the contest.
By stepping
forward to the brow of the hill which covered us, a distance of ten yards, we
were in full view of the rebel stronghold — the batteries along the crest of
the ridge called Stansbury Hill and skirting Hazel Run. For three fourths of an
hour before we were ordered into action, I stood in front of my regiment on the
brow of the hill and watched the fire of the rebel batteries as they poured
shot and shell from sixteen different points upon our devoted men on the plains
below.
It was a
sight magnificently terrible. Every discharge of enemy's artillery and every
explosion of his shells were visible in the dusky twilight of that
smoke-crowned hill. There his direct and enfilading batteries, with the
vividness, intensity, and almost the rapidity of lightning, hurled the
messengers of death in the midst of our brave ranks, vainly struggling through
the murderous fire to gain the hills and the guns of the enemy. Nor was it any
straggling or ill-directed fire. The arrangement of the enemy’s guns was such
that they could pour their concentrated and incessant fire upon any point
occupied by our assailing troops, and all of them were plied with the greatest
skill and animation. During all this time the rattle of musketry was incessant.
About sunset
there was a pause in the cannonading and musketry, and orders came for our
brigade to fall in. Silently but unflinchingly the men moved out from under
their cover, and when they reached the ground, quickened their pace to a run.
As the head of the column came in sight of the enemy, at a distance of about
three fourths of a mile from their batteries, when close to Slaughter’s house,
it was saluted with a shower of shell from the enemy’s guns on the rest of the
hill. It moved on by the flank down the hill into the plain beyond, crossing a
small stream which passes through the city, and empties into Hazel Run, then
over another hill to the line of railroad.
We moved at
so rapid a pace, that many of the men relieved themselves of their blankets and
haversacks, and in some instances of their great-coats, which in most cases
were lost. By countermarch, we extended our line along the railroad, the right
resting toward the city, and the left near Hazel Run. In the formation of the
column, the Twenty-fifth New-Jersey had preceded my regiment, and at this point
their line covered my front.
As we passed
the brow of the hill, and moved down on to the line of the railroad, the enemy
opened fire upon us from his batteries with renewed vigor. At the same time our
batteries in the rear were answering his, and the heavens were illuminated with
exploding shells from front and rear. Having extended our lines along the line
of the railroad, the Twenty-fifth New-Jersey took the shelter afforded by the
right embankment of the railroad, and my men the partial cover afforded by the
left embankment.
It was for a
moment only. The words, Forward! Charge! ran along the lines. The men sprang
forward, and moved at a run, crossed the railroad into a low muddy swamp on the
left, which reaches down to Hazel Run, the right moving ever higher and less
muddy ground, all the time the batteries of the enemy concentrating their
terrible fire and pouring it upon the advancing lines.
Suddenly the
cannonading and musketry of the enemy ceased. The shouts of our men also were
hushed, and nothing was heard along the line save the command: Forward, men — steady
— close up. In this manner we continued to advance in the direction of the
enemy’s batteries. I moved on the right of the regiment, Lieut.-Col. Bowers in
the centre, and Major Storer on the left. From some cause the left wing of the
Twenty-fifth New-Jersey separated from the right, and the left of my line
passed forward and took the advance, the right of the Twenty-fifth still having
the advance of my right.
In this way
we moved forward, until within about twenty yards of the celebrated “stone
wall" at the foot of the hill, on the crest of which, according to rebel
accounts, was placed the well-known “Washington batteries.”
I do not
speak at random of our position. I verified it by subsequent observation, and
by the report of a brave and intelligent soldier, sent by myself on the
Thursday following the battle, with our burial party, and who assisted in
performing the last rite upon some of our dead who lay there. I am proud to say
that the regiment which I had the honor to command, in connection with the
right wing of the Twenty-fifth New-Jersey, gained a point much nearer the stone
wall and the rebel guns than any of our forces during that unfortunate day and that
the officers and men advanced firmly though rapidly to the attack, and were
withdrawn only in the face of a fire which, during the whole day, had
successfully repulsed the desperate bravery of chosen and veteran troops.
Before we
reached the point of which I have been speaking, we came to an irregular ravine
or gully, into which, in the darkness of the night, the lines plunged, but
immediately gained the opposite side, and were advancing along the level ground
toward the stone wall. Behind that wall, and in rifle-pits on its flanks, were
posted the enemy‘s infantry — according to their statements — four ranks deep,
and on the hill, a few yards above, lay in ominous silence their death-dealing
artillery. It was while we were moving steadily forward that, with one
startling crash, with one simultaneous sheet of fire and flame, they hurled on
our advancing lines the whole terrible force of their infantry and artillery.
The powder from their musketry burned in our very faces, and the breath of
their artillery was hot upon our cheeks.
The “leaden
rain and iron hail" in an instant forced back the advancing lines upon
those who were close to them in the rear; and before the men could be rallied
to renew the charge, the lines had been hurled back by the irresistible fire of
the enemy to the cover of the ravine or gully which they adjust passed. The
enemy swept the ground with his guns, killing and wounding many — our men in
the mean time keeping up a spirited fire upon the unseen foe.
The firing at
last gradually slackened; and as no further orders came to us, I withdrew my
regiment with others, and re-formed it deliberately some few rods in the rear,
taking with us such of our wounded as we could find on the field. We remained
some half hour, until we received orders to fall back to the town, which was
quietly accomplished without further loss.
On our return
we halted at the railroad, and found that our wounded, under the care of
Assistant-Surgeon Sullivan, assisted by Chaplain Jones and the members of the
band, had been removed and placed under the shelter of the hill, in rear of the
railroad. They were, as soon as possible, removed to the hospitals in the city,
and properly cared for.
In looking
back and reviewing the scenes of that memorable day, I am happy to assure your
Excellency that I see no reason to feel otherwise than proud of the conduct of
the officers and soldiers of my command. I know of no officer present on the
field who did not come unmanfully and bravely to the duty with which he was charged.
The men, with one or two exceptions, behaved admirably, not one leaving the
field, though stricken with a fire so terrible and sudden.
I desire to
refer particularly to Lieut.-Colonel Bowers and Major Storer in terms of
commendation for their intrepidity and coolness in the advance and attack. With
particular pride and pleasure I call your attention to the services of
Assistant-Surgeon Richardson, who, in those dreadful days, proved himself an
honor to his profession and an invaluable aid to the army in its hour of
suffering. While I look with shame and horror on the conduct of men calling
themselves surgeons, attached to regiments of other States, I am proud to say
that I know from personal observation that for two days and nights after the
battle, and at times when the shells of' the enemy were falling around him, Dr.
Richardson pursued his arduous duties in the hospital and out of it,
unremittingly, and with a fidelity and ability that has endeared him to me
personally, and gained him an enviable distinction among his professional
brethren in the army.
Dr. Sullivan,
though suffering from illness, was assiduous in his attention to the suffering
of our regiment and the wounded on the field of battle. Surgeon Twitchell was
not present, being detained in Washington and arriving here on Tuesday after
the battle. I sincerely regret his absence at a time when his distinguished
abilities and experience would have rendered him so useful to the poor and
suffering victims of the day's carnage.
Sunday and
Monday following the battle, we occupied our old position in Caroline street. I
received orders on Sunday to be ready to move again to the attack, and the
position of the battalion lines was assigned; but the plan of renewing the
attack was abandoned during the day. Monday night my regiment was thrown out as
pickets on the line of the railroad, and to the south of it, along Hazel Run,
which position, aided by a detachment of two companies of Berdan's sharp-shooters,
was held until half past two o'clock Tuesday morning, our pickets continually
exchanging shots with those of the enemy. We were then withdrawn, and returned
to our old encampment on this side of the river.
I have the
honor to furnish your Excellency herewith a list of the killed, wounded, and
missing, and also a list of officers absent at the time of the action. I will
add that many of my men were injured and bruised by being thrown down and
trampled upon by the lines in front, but are not included in the list of
casualties.
I am happy to
say that in most instances the officers and men of my regiment, though they
have suffered severely from exposure to cold and in diet, are recovering their
health, strength and courage, for the great work still before the army of the
Republic—the suppression of the rebellion.
I have the
honor to remain, very respectfully, your Excellency's obedient servant,
A. F. Stevens,
Colonel Thirteenth Regiment, New-Hampshire Volunteers.
List or Casualties
in Thirteenth regiment New-Hampshire volunteers, at the battle of Fredericksburgh,
Va., December Thirteenth, 1862.
KILLED:
Company D,
Private Lorenzo Phillips; Company H, Private James Knights.
Total, two.
Wounded:
Company
A—Lieut. B. C. Carter, slightly in leg; Private N. W. Gray, thumb shot off.
Company
B—Corporal Geo. Cochrane, shot through wrist.
Company G—Privates
H. B. Neely, in leg; Wm. Bridgdon, in knee; L. F. Smith, in hand; Geo. V.
Celburn, in back.
Company
D—Sergeant A. J. Sherman, in foot; Corporal M A. Taylor, in ankle; Privates
Thaddeus Quimby, in neck; James J. Young, in head; Charles Hoyt, in finger.
Company
E—Lieut. James M. Durell, in head; Privates Henry Nutter, in arm; David
Chapman, in head; David Hogan, in hand.‘
Company
F—Sergeant E. E. Locke, in hand; Privates, A. Stevenson, finger shot off;
Charles Leathers, in ankle; Gilman Hall, in foot.
Company
G—Corporal Edwin Ware, in thigh; Private Jacob Chamberlain in side.
Company H—Private
C. C. Fuller, in foot; A. Jordan, in head; C. Cilley, in leg; Wm. McKinnon, in
finger.
Company
I—Lieut. M. A. Shaw, in foot; Corporal Wm. B. Huncklee, in head; privates, L.
G. Parker, in side; M. Tull, in leg; H. Butler, in back; K. J. Chaplin, in head.
Company
K—Privates, II. Hunnefelt, in finger; John F. Mulligan, shot through leg.
Total wounded
thirty-four.
Missing and
not since heard from, company F; J. F. Welch; company H, privates, Alvah
Warren, Henry M. Woodbury; company K, privates John K. A. Hanson, John Harmon,
Henry G. Thompson. Total missing, six.
Officers
Absent from the Battle: —Surgeon George B. Twitchell, detained at Washington;
Captain N. D. Stoodley, sick in Washington; Captain Luther M. Wright, sick in
quarters; Lieutenant G. Gillis, Adjutant, sick, and on furlough in Nashua, N. H.,
Lieutenant Edward Kilburn, sick in Alexandria; Lieutenant W. H. H. Young, sick
in quarters.
[My thanks to Dave Morin, researcher extraordinaire, who sent me this report and the CDV portrait of Col. Stevens.]
.jpg)
.jpg)
