"We Killed Them in Waves."

Saturday, December 13, 1862, Fredericksburg, Virginia

It is not the cold that is causing me to fumble my pen. There are reasons other than the weather that renders a body numb to what it may see or hear. I must not explain this right away as I must enter into this book the events that have transpired since the last entry before I forget them. The events of today cannot be forgotten no matter how much I will try.

There were many dozens of us waiting at the Guineas' Station for another locomotive to take our train to wherever its cargo of soldiers and cannon could meet Burnside. Some os us, having been discharged from the Richmond hospitals too soon, filled the air with much coughing and hacking. The station agent received a telegram stating that no locomotive would be forthcoming and that the senior officer present was directed to put us all on the march with all haste to Fredericksburg. None of us had a musket and few had any rations but off we went, under the command of an artillery lieutenant who had been on his way home to Lynchburg.

We left the station to fall in and I noticed this one soldier in a slouch on the end of a bench. Someone called to him to hurry up. It was when he did not respond that we realized that he was dead.

It was not a great length of march, probably no more than ten miles. Since we started so late in the day, we required to spend the night spread out across farmers' fields without tents, little rations and only a few blankets. When we fell in, without breakfast, on Thursday morning, I noticed that our ranks had thinned some. 

After a short but cold and hungry march, we arrived at the army's new location across the Rappahannock from Fredericksburg which had been occupied that very day. We were met by officers who knew where the various divisions of the army were located. These officers broke us up into parties and took us to our divisions where others took over and led us to our brigades. It was nearing dark before I entered the camp of my company.

I was greeted by the welcome sight of my pards, including Bill Adkins, who was wearing my blanket. My blanket. My thick, heavy blanket from home which kept me from freezing all last winter, the same that I was looking forward to being reunited with was now draped across the shoulders of the only person who looked warm. He said that he was keeping it protected for me. How could I ask for it back? I thanked him and said that he could keep it. Along with the uniform in the package I received at the hospital was a vest, two pairs of wool stockings and a pair of flannel drawers. My old blanket would have been too warm anyway.

Corporal Flynn was there and when I enquired about my musket, he tossed a spade to me. My welcoming party rapidly turned into a working party which included myself. As we dug into the hard ground, we talked and I was informed of all that has happened since my involuntary absence. 

The regiment had been in the Shenandoah when I took sick. A good many of came down sick at the same time but I was the only one who required treatment in a general hospital. Since my leaving the regiment, the regiment left the Shenandoh. Indeed, Jackson's entire force left the valley once Burnside became frisky and threatened Richmond. Now Lee's entire army was reunited and standing between Burnside and the object of his affections.

The regiment suffered more casualties at Sharpsburg than I was aware. John Fail and Elias Frazier, neither of which I knew,  were killed there. Our colonel, Dixon Barnes, died of his wounds. Peace to his ashes. Cadwallader Jones is our new colonel. Harper and McDow have died of disease and Lieutenant Wade has retired. Troy Crenshaw is still away from us, still suffering from his wounds at Second Manassas. 

This now brings me to the momentous events of today. First, I must state the positions of the army relative to each other. When I finally get old, or at least older, I will no longer remember. Our Jackson was on the right of the line. Our division of Hill's was inside from the far right. Taliaferro's division was on our right. To our left was Hood's division. Hood was the far right of Longstreet's wing of the army. Longstreet and a good deal of our artillery was in a fortified position on some heights across the river from Fredericksburg. Gregg's brigade, which included us, was in reserve. Facing us, in the city, was the infernal horde of Burnside. 

They hit us on our right first. Our regiment was observing the battle from our protected reserve position on a rise when we were dreadfully surprised by a blue line of battle. We later found out that this was Meade's division. We were fairly surprised and broken up by Meade. General Gregg was killed while rallying his brigade to hold our position. General Early's division supported us and we were able to fight out the attack. We stayed and they withdrew.

At this point, we were able to just watch as the next period of battle began. It was Longstreet's turn to be attacked. That Burnside sent brigade after brigade uphill across open fields without cover against infantry and massed artillery firing from behind the protection of earthworks. We killed them in waves. As one wave was repulsed, another took its' place in the attack. I lost count of the number there were so many. As each wave was thrown back, we could see so many bodies. And they kept on coming, and dying. They never came close to our lines. As we were so far away, we could not assist Longstreet but he probably did not need us.

It is now night and I am writing this by the faint light of an astronomical oddity of nature called a borryallis. There can be seen so many bodies. They cannot all be dead; there are too many moans and calls for help. There is still frequent gunfire from Longstreet's men.

It is very cold. The vest and drawers help but I would like a blanket like my old one. I can see Adkins and hear him. He is sleeping quite well. After such slaughter as we witnessed today, how can the Yankees expect that we would ever surrender?