Am I not shot With the self-same artillery?
—Richard Lovelace
The fog lay thick across the valley of the Rappahannock once again on the morning of December 13; visibility was no better than fifty or sixty yards. Yanks and Rebs caught a few final minutes of sleep in the chilly thirty-degree weather. Burnside was up early, having slept no more than four hours and nearing the limits of physical endurance. At this critical juncture he was faltering and hardly exhibited the proper balance of flexibility and firmness necessary for directing a battle against a skillful foe on unfavorable ground.1
Still determined to seize the military road running along the Confederate lines and split Lee’s army in two, Burnside hurriedly put finishing touches on a battle plan and drafted orders for the day before 6:00 A.M. He dispatched Brig. Gen. James A. Hardie with a rough pencil copy of the orders to Franklin’s headquarters. Hardie, friendly with both McClellan and Hooker, had known Franklin at West Point, and perhaps that was why Burnside picked him for this assignment. How he may have interpreted Burnside’s intentions as he wound his way toward the Rappahannock through mud and over frozen ground is unknown. Franklin had been impatiently expecting to receive word from headquarters ever since the preceding evening’s conference with Burnside. Around midnight he had even dispatched an aide to the Phillips House to hurry matters along. He sat up most of the night waiting for orders, but Hardie did not arrive at Mannsfield until around 7:30 A.M.2
The document Hardie delivered to Franklin was a model of imprecision: “Keep your whole command in position for a rapid movement down the old Richmond Road and . . . send out at once a division at least to pass below Smithfield, to seize if possible, the height near Captain Hamilton’s on this side of the Massaponax, taking care to keep it well supported and its line of retreat open.”3 What exactly had Burnside ordered Franklin to do? Make an attack against Lee’s right flank, or a mere diversion against Prospect Hill? Unfortunately, later self-serving testimony by Franklin, Burnside, and other generals, along with the vaguely worded orders themselves, hardly cleared up this question. Confusion about the local road system on various maps makes sorting out the truth even more difficult.4
In the meantime Sumner would attempt to capture Marye’s Heights, and if both movements succeeded, the Confederates would likely “evacuate the whole ridge between these points.” Two of Hooker’s divisions would remain in the rear at the bridges to support Franklin, who was further instructed to “keep your whole command in readiness to move at once, as soon as the fog lifts.” These last two points suggested that Burnside expected Franklin to be using most of his troops for the assault on Prospect Hill and in the movement down the Richmond Stage Road to flank the Rebel right.5
Unfortunately for Burnside, the force of the attack depended on Franklin’s understanding and judgment, and that general had never shown much imagination or aggressiveness. Camp scuttlebutt claimed that Franklin, an old McClellan loyalist supposedly jealous of Burnside, might attempt to sabotage the battle plans. Such loose talk was hardly unusual in the Army of the Potomac, and how seriously it should be taken is far from clear. Yet one fact is indisputable: Franklin narrowly construed Burnside’s instructions to mean that he was to conduct essentially a reconnaissance in force with at least one well-supported division. Other misinterpretations added to the confusion. Baldy Smith later claimed that his Sixth Corps could not have moved down the Richmond Stage Road without uncovering the bridges, but Burnside’s order had clearly provided for the defense of these crossings. The word “seize” seemed to imply that the high ground near Hamilton’s Crossing was undefended; “carry” would have been more consistent with normal military usage. Such ambiguities gave Franklin all the excuses he needed to proceed cautiously, indeed timidly. Although Franklin would later claim that the orders contradicted an understanding reached with Burnside the previous evening, by 7:40 he had already chosen a division to spearhead the attack. It is also likely that Franklin had lost faith in Burnside and that any assault against the Confederate right would be neither powerful nor well supported.6
With Jackson’s final two divisions still moving into place on the morning of December 13, Lee’s right flank was temporarily vulnerable, and Confederate writers have conceded that Burnside had an opportunity to strike a blow.7 The thick fog prevented the Rebels from observing their opponents’ opening moves, but they could hear “the indescribable buzz, like the distant and uncertain noise of bees, that so plainly tells the trained soldier that an army is going into line of battle.”8
The wooded hills and the open plain broken up by small streams and poor roads chewed up by wartime traffic certainly favored the defenders. Burnside’s only significant geographical advantage was Stafford Heights, the platform for his artillery. The Confederate lines along the range of hills behind the town ran from Taylor’s Hill on the north near the dam above Falmouth to Marye’s Heights behind Fredericksburg, then slightly southwest to Telegraph Hill (later called Lee’s Hill), and finally to Prospect Hill near Hamilton’s Crossing on the south. Although not especially imposing, these gentle slopes formed naturally strong defensive positions. South of Fredericksburg, Hazel Run and Deep Run broke up the riverside plain between Burnside’s two grand divisions. This made mutual reinforcement between Franklin and Sumner difficult and essentially dictated separate (though it was hoped coordinated) assaults against the Confederates.9
At Fredericksburg, as in many battles, the ground itself would exert what Clausewitz termed a “decisive influence on the engagement.” The terrain would shape the tactics of each side as well as the outcome of the battle. The plain and heights south of Fredericksburg had what Clausewitz considered the three characteristics that most affect the course of military operations: first, obstacles (some seemed slight but would nevertheless prove important) to the Federals approaching Jackson’s lines; second, uneven ground along with the thick fog that impaired visibility (much more for Franklin than for Jackson); and finally, the excellent cover for both infantry and artillery offered by the Confederate positions.10
Franklin’s troops would have to advance across open ground while exposed to battery fire. Even though the plain provided room for maneuvering, its features could impede any offensive thrust. The Richmond Stage Road ran roughly parallel to the river about three-quarters of a mile away. Mounded earth and ditches on both sides along with fences and scattered cedars made this thoroughfare, according to Franklin, “an exceedingly strong feature in the defense of the ground,” but the hedgerows could slow any attacking force as well. To Franklin’s front lay muddy fields of wheat and corn stubble traversed by drainage ditches. Beyond them, some 1,000 yards past the Richmond Stage Road, ran the tracks of the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac Railroad. The ground sloped gently down toward the roadbed, and at one point woods lapped across the tracks. On the other side of the railroad the ground rose gradually toward the wooded crest held by Jackson’s troops.11
Around 35,000 Confederate infantry supported by fifty-four artillery pieces awaited Franklin’s attack. Although mud on top of frozen ground, a shortage of tools, and the last-minute shifting of troops had prevented construction of gun pits or other defensive works, Jackson had approximately eleven men per yard—in military parlance a “deep formation.” A. P. Hill’s famous Light Division occupied the front line running from Deep Run nearly to Hamilton’s Crossing. Two divisions formed a backup line: Brig. Gen. William B. Taliaferro’s four brigades on the left, and Early’s sleepy-eyed men on the right. Two brigades of Stuart’s cavalry hovered on Jackson’s right flank between Hamilton’s Crossing and Massaponax Creek.12
The placement of artillery batteries presented several difficulties. Because Hill’s line arced back and the high ground was wooded, it would be impossible to sweep the field of fire. On Prospect Hill Lt. Col. Reuben Lindsay Walker, a superb artillerist, commanded five batteries (fourteen guns). On Hill’s left near Arthur Bernard’s slave cabins, Capt. Greenlee Davidson had three more batteries (nine guns). About 200 yards to the right of Davidson and across the railroad tracks, Capt. John B. Brockenbrough placed an additional three batteries (twelve guns). This last group was in front of Hill’s lines, close to the skirmishers. Eighteen guns from Stuart’s horse artillery further protected the right flank.
Despite being thus favorably placed, the guns did not cover between 800 and 1,000 yards of Hill’s front, according to the estimate of Jackson’s artillery chief, Col. Stapleton Crutchfield. The guns could not oblique far enough right or left to defend the weak point in the center of Jackson’s line. Although trees masked much of Jackson’s artillery, they also limited maneuverability. In short, the nature of the terrain meant that Jackson could not effectively deploy more than a third of his artillery.13
One glaring weak point diminished the strength of Jackson’s position. Hill had left a 600-yard gap between Lane’s North Carolina brigade on the left and Brig. Gen. James J. Archer’s mixed brigade of Alabamians, Georgians, and Tennesseans to the right. This ground, where the woods extended beyond the railroad, was swampy and covered with thick undergrowth. A brigade commanded by Brig. Gen. Maxcy Gregg stood more than a quartermile behind the gap.14 Concerned about what he considered faulty deployment, Lane informed Hill, who apparently declined to station troops in such a marshy place, evidently relying instead on the uninviting ground to deter a Federal attack there.15
Hill, doubtless distracted by news of his oldest daughter’s death from diphtheria and never known for meticulous defensive preparations, had been careless in positioning his troops. His official report made no comment on the gap between Lane and Archer. Even more mysterious is the lack of evidence about Hill’s activities or even his whereabouts during the battle. Jackson’s report tersely suggested that Hill had been responsible for the brigade alignment. By the time of the battle, however, the two generals had been embroiled in a nasty feud for over two months. Hill had recently referred to Jackson as “a crazy old Presbyterian fool.” Candidly describing himself as a “porcupine—all bristles and all sticking out too,” Hill had predicted that “the Almighty will get tired, helping Jackson after awhile, and then he’ll get the damndest thrashing.”16 No evidence suggests that Hill was undermining Jackson at Fredericksburg, but he was clearly not up to par.
Sorting out Jackson’s responsibility is equally difficult. Given the testy relationship, he probably had not conferred with Hill about the terrain. He had pressed for an attack on the Federals before the fog lifted, but Lee had demurred. Jackson’s habitual aggressiveness was far less striking this morning than his appearance. The chronically rumpled Old Jack was once again wearing his new uniform—the recent gift from Stuart—and looked uncharacteristically dapper. His old fatigue cap had been replaced by a fine grayish-blue lieutenant general’s hat resplendent with gold braid. Wherever Jackson went during the day, the bright new uniform elicited considerable amazement and not a few humorous jibes. So another tale became part of the Stonewall legend; in retrospect the sparkling new uniform dramatized the day’s signal importance for the Confederacy. The eccentricities of great battle captains add to their mystique, and Jackson’s oddities certainly burnished his reputation as a pious and fearsome fighter. Confederates in general had enormous faith in him, but on this morning the usually careful Jackson—reported to be praying as he rode along—may have overlooked the ominous gap in Hill’s lines.17
* * *
The Federals would discover the breach soon enough. After mulling over Burnside’s orders, Franklin gave Reynolds the go-ahead to launch the assault. Meade’s division would lead the attack supported by Gibbon on the right with Doubleday protecting the left. Reynolds, a hard-bitten Regular army officer, commanded enormous respect from the volunteers as well as from his fellow officers. Even the ambitious Meade, who acknowledged a natural rivalry with his corps commander, considered him a fine soldier and good friend. Yet as with A. P. Hill’s performance, Reynolds’s role, too, remains murky. Apparently he spent much of the day on artillery details.18
Meade’s division included the Pennsylvania Reserves along with a couple of newly recruited Keystone State regiments. The famous Pennsylvania Reserves—so designated because they had initially been militia regiments raised in excess of the state’s quota of volunteers—were rugged, battle-toughened veterans, bloodied and depleted by hard fighting in the Seven Days, Second Bull Run, and Antietam campaigns. Meade, their commander and the senior division commander in the First Corps, had been angling for a corps command and blamed the McClellan clique for delaying it; in fact, he had even consulted with Hooker on the matter.19 But for all his ambition and notorious temper, Meade shunned political intrigue and was a solid general, in many respects an excellent choice to lead the assault.
Unfortunately Meade was at best doubtful of success. He complained to Franklin that attacking with a single division would simply repeat the mistakes of Antietam, where piecemeal assaults had yielded little but heavy casualties. His division could take the heights, Meade believed, but could not hold them. Typically laconic, Franklin replied that these were Burnside’s orders and they would have to be obeyed. As one staff officer later described it, “Meade went in by God and he went in like a gentleman.” Franklin directed the division to advance from near Smithfield down a local farm lane directly toward the Confederate lines on Prospect Hill.20
With the fog beginning to lift, around 9:00 A.M. Meade’s three brigades accompanied by artillery approached the Richmond Stage Road. Men un-slung their knapsacks and began tearing away the hedgerows on both sides of the thoroughfare. Once across, they grabbed cedar branches to form makeshift bridges for artillery to pass over a drainage ditch. Col. William Sinclair’s brigade led the way onto a slight crest facing the railroad, followed by Col. Albert Magilton’s brigade 300 yards to the rear. Brig. Gen. Conrad Feger Jackson’s brigade aligned perpendicular to Sinclair and Magilton protecting the left flank. It took nearly an hour to get these troops into position.21
Through the mist Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, and Stuart could now glimpse the Federal host. The advancing blue lines deeply impressed Confederate observers, who long afterward penned descriptions of fluttering flags, gleaming bayonets, and bright uniforms. Contemporary accounts used words such as “grand” and “magnificent”; one Tennessean described it as “one of the most imposing sights ever beheld on the American Continent.” For Yankee and Rebel alike, the geography of Fredericksburg offered a remarkable panorama for viewing the battlefield, and many on both sides would comment about how unusual it was to watch so much of the fighting unfold.22
Observing the enemy’s advance, Confederates on Telegraph Hill seemed entirely nonplussed. As usual, the stiff and earnest Jackson became an easy target for playful teasing. Longstreet asked him if all those lines of Yankees frightened him, but of course he received a deadly serious response: “Wait till they come a little nearer, and they shall either scare me or I’ll scare them.” Just to make sure that no one misunderstood, Jackson responded to a later jab from Longstreet, “Sir, we’ll give them the bayonet.” Old Jack then rode back along the lines, instructing artillery officers to reserve their fire until the enemy came within range. His fighting blood obviously up, Jackson remarked, “I am glad the Yankees are coming.” He spoke with the assurance of a general not only holding a strong defensive position but also sure that God would safeguard the right. A firm belief in providence produced a calm resignation in many of Jackson’s men also. “What my fate may be I know not,” mapmaker Jedediah Hotchkiss mused in a hastily written letter to his wife. “I can only trust in a merciful God, whose favor has never forsaken me, and hope for his protection. May he grant us victory, and may it be the means of bringing peace to our distracted land.”23 So, too, the piety of some young artillery officers, rapidly becoming legends in the Army of Northern Virginia, would soon be tested.
The equally devout (albeit always playful) Stuart also enjoyed a grand view of the unfolding drama. One of his officers had seen Federal ambulance drivers and litter carriers marking with red and yellow flags old barns and various outbuildings for field hospitals. Stuart had placed Maj. John Pelham in charge of the eighteen guns on Jackson’s right. Twenty-four years old, Pelham had not quite completed his West Point education when the war broke out. Slender, fair-haired, and blue-eyed, a veritable boy in appearance, Pelham had been nicknamed “Sallie” by fellow cadets. But he was a spirited and intrepid officer nonetheless. On this morning he had tied a red and blue striped necktie (a gift from a British observer) around his cap.24
Pelham’s attitude was as audacious as his attire. He proposed hauling a gun or two well ahead of the advancing Federals and then pouring an enfilading fire into their flank. Stuart, no stranger to audacity, readily assented. Pelham promptly placed a 12-pounder Napoleon at the intersection of the Richmond Stage Road and a country road that ran northeast from Hamilton’s Crossing. Pelham unlimbered in a shallow depression screened by cedar hedges. Meade’s troops, though, were plainly visible to the Rebel artillerists less than 400 yards away. At 10:00 A.M. Pelham opened on the Federals with a solid shot.25
Nothing so terrorizes infantry as artillery fire from the flank and rear, and some bluecoats immediately hit the ground, their faces pressed against the muddy earth. Pvt. Joseph Pratt of the 1st Pennsylvania Reserves had been one of those fellows who always claimed to be having premonitions of death. Indeed, just that morning an officer had told him to stay back and guard the knapsacks. Right before Pelham opened fire, Pratt had decided to stick with his company. He took only a few steps before he was hit by a Rebel round. Pratt joked about the wound being “good for a month’s furlough” but died a few days later. Meade’s artillery, joined by the heavier guns across the river, quickly responded to the deadly enfilading fire, but without much effect because the Federals had trouble finding Pelham’s lone gun. Some cannon on Stafford Heights could not be depressed far enough, while defective shells posed more danger to Yankee infantry than to the Rebels. On the other hand, a well-aimed Confederate round mowed down seven members of the 121st Pennsylvania, and one poor wretch was cut in half by a solid shot.26
Fully five Union batteries tried to zero in on the elusive Pelham. Stuart deployed skirmishers as well as Capt. John Esten Cooke with a Blakely rifle to support his intrepid artillerist. Pelham continued calmly directing the fire of his beleaguered Napoleon, instructing his men to hit the ground after each round. They began taking casualties, however, and Pelham soon had to help man the gun himself. Advancing Federal infantry and accurate artillery fire that broke the Blakely’s axle and killed two gunners underscored the precariousness of his position. Stuart—on no less than three occasions—sent orders to withdraw, but only when the limbers were nearly empty did Pelham finally do so.27
Pelham’s skillful maneuvering and rapid fire had not only delayed Meade but had also thoroughly shaken the Pennsylvanians. Later Federal reports claimed that the Union left had been enfiladed by an entire battery.28 Pelham’s daring against long odds made for a dramatic tale that Confederates never tired of retelling. Thus was born a legend shorn of the qualifications and complexities of the events themselves. Pelham had delayed the Federal assault for nearly an hour, which allowed D. H. Hill’s weary troops more time to move into a supporting position in Jackson’s rear. Yet Pelham may in fact (as even Lee perhaps believed) have opened prematurely on the advancing bluecoats. Given the natural strength of Jackson’s lines, Franklin’s caution, and the accumulation of Federal delays, his contribution to Confederate success that day has perhaps been exaggerated.
Any postmortem discussion over tactical fine points, however, is largely irrelevant. Pelham became the perfect Confederate hero, the dashing young officer who had stalled an entire division and several batteries with a single gun. (Confederates guessed that between a dozen and twenty Federal cannon had fired toward Pelham’s position). Watching from his hilltop headquarters, Lee uttered the famous words that assured the Alabamian’s place in the Confederate pantheon: “It is glorious to see such courage in one so young.” In a dispatch to the War Department the next day, Lee dubbed his young artillerist “the gallant Pelham,” a sobriquet that became permanently attached to him. That Stuart’s cavalrymen, other artillerists, and some of Jackson’s infantry had such a good view of this engagement helped spread Pelham’s renown as an exemplary officer.29 However inspiring to soldiers, civilians, and young people, the lessons drawn from Pelham’s exploits were far from simple. The single-gun heroics overshadowed Federal tactical errors and obscured Union opportunities lost. More importantly, although Pelham’s performance helped build esprit de corps, it also fostered an over-confidence apparent during and long after the battle of Fredericksburg. Ironically, Pelham’s bravery and tactical skill could mislead the unwary. Federal advantages in every resource could not forever be overcome by gallant young officers whose ranks would grow ever thinner. Pelham himself, the prototype, would de dead in less than four months.
But for now his gallantry had disrupted the Federal plans. Not only had he held up Meade’s advance, but his spirited attack would also keep Double-day’s division guarding the Federal left the entire day rather than supporting Meade and Gibbon—a signal accomplishment in itself. Reynolds ordered Doubleday to drive off the pesky Confederate cavalry; two batteries (assisted by the Regulars across the river) began shelling Stuart’s troopers on the left flank. Doubleday then ordered the Iron Brigade to advance toward woods where Rebel cavalry had taken shelter.30
Led by the newly enlisted 24th Michigan on the left and the veteran 7th Wisconsin on the right, the troops moved forward. After one Michigan man had his head blown off by a Confederate shell and another lost an arm, the regiment wavered until Col. Henry A. Morrow steadied them by putting companies through the manual of arms. Both regiments stumbled into ravines and thick undergrowth in the woods but also managed to capture several disoriented Confederates and grab horses that the Rebels could ill afford to lose. A Maryland battery plunged ahead with the Federal infantry, making it still hotter for Pelham.31
With the threat to his left quelled for the moment, Meade swung Feger Jackson’s brigade into line on Sinclair’s left and trained several batteries toward Prospect Hill. Wainwright hurried more First Corps artillery forward to support Gibbon’s advance on Meade’s right. Reynolds ordered four batteries (eighteen guns in all) to shell the woods held by A. P. Hill’s troops. Around 11:00 A.M. Yankee gunners, joined by others across the river, opened a nearly hour-long bombardment. It drew little response from the largely hidden Rebel guns more than 1,000 yards away. Meanwhile Meade’s men still lay on the cold ground, which was now turning oozy. Smoke from the guns blew back over the troops and obscured the area leading down toward the railroad. The cruel chaos of battle had begun in earnest: a recruit from one of the new Pennsylvania regiments saw a horse shot in the head while still hitched to a caisson and another poor beast running to the rear dragging its entrails along the ground. Trails shattered and axles broke as recoiling guns slid around in the mud and hit frozen ground.32
Throughout the morning Federal artillery exacted a steady toll, dealing death bolts randomly, arbitrarily, and anonymously. Even what Lindsay Walker on Prospect Hill termed the earlier “desultory fire” had been bothersome. Battery commanders were forced to relocate their guns to avoid the enemy rounds. Two of Brockenbrough’s pieces were brought back across the railroad tracks. One of the first shots had landed in the midst of Walker’s group and killed Lt. James Ellett of the Crenshaw Artillery just as he was positioning his guns.33
Capt. David McIntosh, one of Walker’s commanders, recalled the unpleasant experience of enduring this barrage: “The worst ordeal the soldier has to encounter is to lie still, and do nothing under heavy fire.” But the orders that morning allowed no other course. Confederate guns were not to engage in a long-range artillery duel but instead wait until the infantry was in range (roughly 800 yards) before opening fire. Old Jack sat quietly on horseback, setting an example of courage for the troops while shells flew. As a sharpshooter’s bullet passed between Jackson and his aide Lt. James Power Smith, Jackson coolly remarked, “Mr. Smith, had you not better go to the rear? They may shoot you!” A North Carolina major who saw Jackson riding along while the troops cheered wildly noticed how “his eyes seemed to be on fire, so eager was he for the fray.” Not everybody, of course, shared Old Jack’s enthusiasm. Soldiers who had bragged about how brave they would be in a fight suddenly turned pale; some lay flat on the ground; others crouched behind large trees. The latter tactic proved unwise. Several men were injured and at least one was killed by falling tree limbs snapped off by artillery shells.34
* * *
Yet as frightful as it was, the cannonade inflicted mostly accidental and incidental damage because the Federal gunners had not been able to sight their targets. Confederate batteries had hardly been disabled as Union infantry prepared to go forward once again. Reynolds instructed Meade to advance toward the woods (where troops crossed the railroad) and Gibbon to move forward on the right. Feger Jackson’s and Sinclair’s brigades comprised two-thirds of this assault line, and Gibbon’s division supplied the other third. Brig. Gen. Nelson Taylor’s brigade was in the lead, and the division’s other two brigades were stacked up behind it. Under cover of slow artillery fire, the long blue line, 8,000 strong, crossed over a slight rise and began descending toward the railroad.35
With guns charged and lanyards drawn taught, Rebel artillerists tensed. “Minutes seemed like hours,” one officer recalled. “One holds his breath and then breathes hard.” As the first bluecoats approached a tree around 800 yards in front of Walker’s batteries, the Confederates opened up with shells, spherical case (a projectile filled with shrapnel), and double-shotted canister. Pelham’s fifteen guns, practically at right angles to the Federal line of advance, raked Meade’s troops in a murderous crossfire. Stuart, moving about quickly directing fire, had several close calls but seemed oblivious to danger. Brockenbrough and Davidson also opened on Gibbon. All told, Jackson brought between forty and fifty guns to bear on the Federal infantry.36
Walker’s guns, Jackson later reported, were “pouring such a storm of shot and shell into his [the enemy’s] ranks as to cause him first to halt, then to waver, and at last to seek shelter by flight.” The lines, savagely rent by the fire, staggered. Officers tried to close them up, but some bluecoats broke for the rear. Gibbon ordered his men to hit the ground, and Meade’s brigade commanders followed suit. “Now the dogs of war are being let loose,” one of the Pennsylvania Reserves melodramatically noted in his diary. “The rebs are throwing their rotten shells all around us, much to our discomfort.” Other soldiers complained of enemy batteries hurling “railroad iron.” Far in Gibbon’s rear a Maine volunteer “hugged the ground for dear life” even as one of his comrades was killed by a spent cannonball.37
Not only in Reynolds’s corps but in the Union army generally on this day the number of injuries and deaths caused by artillery fire would be unusually high. A Maine sergeant in Gibbon’s division suffered a severe skull fracture from a shell fragment. Pieces of bone pressed down on his brain, causing partial paralysis, and he died a little more than a month after being hit. Rebel shells killed horses as well as men. Lt. John Simpson, commanding the 1st Pennsylvania Light Artillery, Battery A, lost so many animals that he had to conduct a “change of front” by hand.38
Confederate artillerists cheered as their projectiles plowed through the Union ranks. “Oh! It did me good to see the rascals run,” exclaimed a South Carolina gunner. The Yankees skedaddled like “frightened deer,” a member of the Richmond Howitzers later told his mother. But the exaltation was tinged with sadness as well. Veterans had been on the receiving end of such a hailstorm before and knew they might well face the screaming shells themselves within minutes. Under such circumstances anger and awe did not always overwhelm ordinary human sympathies. Observing the carnage, one of Walker’s men declared, “Lord be marsiful to their poor souls.”39 He might well have invoked a similar mercy for himself and his comrades who would need it soon enough.
In technical military terms the Federals responded with “counter-battery fire,” but those who witnessed and survived this barrage would not have used such sterile language. Wainwright, with support from several Sixth Corps batteries, had between forty and fifty cannon working to silence the now unmasked Confederate guns. Capt. Frank Amsden’s Pennsylvanians, who would expend 346 case shot and 236 shells throughout the day, lobbed many of these rounds in Walker’s direction. Several of the pieces fouled rapidly, while continuous recoil snapped two axles. Federal artillerists scored several direct hits on Confederate caissons, causing breathtaking explosions.
But the contest was hardly one-sided. The 2nd Maine battery still faced a “very galling” crossfire from Brockenbrough and Pelham. Reynolds, for a time, put a halt to counterfire toward the Hamilton’s Crossing area because the rounds were passing so closely over Gibbon’s infantry. Shells whooshed only a foot above their heads, a Massachusetts volunteer claimed, and one man was badly wounded in the hip by friendly fire. As Capt. James Hall was redirecting his guns, a Confederate solid shot passed between him and several officers, smashing and exploding a limber chest. Enraged, Hall dismounted, sighted one of the guns, and sent a shell whizzing toward Prospect Hill. In a startling display of marksmanship and luck, the return shot struck a Rebel caisson, evening the score.40
Hall then directed his fire toward Brockenbrough on the right with dramatic effect. Davidson had reportedly been slow to support Brockenbrough’s beleaguered gunners, several of whom had been downed by artillery fire and Federal sharpshooters. Brockenbrough, one of his battery commanders, and several other officers were wounded. Broken axles, defective fuses, high casualties (among men and horses), and weak infantry support finally forced these batteries to pull back across the railroad.41
Near the Bernard slave cabins, Davidson’s men were also pressed hard. The Rebels with their light pieces were no match for the Federals, who hammered them with shot and shell. Likewise plagued by poor ammunition and a broken axle, Davidson soon had four disabled cannon. Behind these guns the shells fell thick and fast among Pender’s brigade. A Tar Heel captain raised his head just long enough to see a sergeant hit in the breast by an exploding shell that tore off the top of his head. The man dropped onto his hands and knees, and for at least a minute his brains “quivered” until he finally flopped on his face. Several others suffered mortal wounds.42
Dividing their attention between Federal artillery and the advancing infantry, Walker’s gunners fought an uneven battle as the Union batteries pounded their position. So many horses were killed that Prospect Hill was quickly dubbed “Dead Horse Hill,” but the human casualties were more appalling. The Pee Dee Artillery lost nearly twenty men. One gunner had some shrapnel go through his coat. A minié ball struck his ramrod, and a splinter grazed his head. A piece of shell struck the gun he was serving and knocked him to the ground. Another shell fragment barely missed a leg. Under this intense fire some men from Capt. Willie Pegram’s section abandoned their guns. The diminutive but combative Pegram, however, wrapped himself in the battery flag and strode among the cannon rallying his men. An equally daring but fatalistic member of the Crenshaw Battery refused to take cover while under fire. “I’ll be killed just as quick laying down as standing up,” he told his comrades and proved something of a prophet when a bullet fatally pierced his heart.43
On the right of Jackson’s lines, with the help of two more batteries sent by Crutchfield, Pelham kept up an enfilading fire against the Federals. The young major seemed to be everywhere, dashing among the cannon, according to one artillerist, like a “boy playing ball.” Pelham jauntily promised to keep one of his men in the thick of the fight until he was killed. Well-aimed shells continued to scatter Yankee infantry to the “boisterous cheers and repeated huzzahs of [the] men.”44
Determined to silence the pesky artillery on his left, Wainwright dispatched several batteries (mostly from Doubleday’s division) to do the job. For a half-hour about fourteen Yankee guns concentrated on the Rebel batteries, a “fearful” exchange of fire, Wainwright claimed.45 “You men stand killing better than any I ever saw,” Pelham remarked to a lieutenant in the Rockbridge Artillery whose command was being hit hard. An exploding limber chest mortally wounded a few officers and disabled guns. Even Pelham reportedly took to his heels during the more deadly fireworks.46
By now the Confederates had lost eleven guns, three limbers, and a caisson. Those cannon still in working order hardly had enough horses. Losses included several capable battery commanders. But Rebel artillery had performed well, delaying Meade’s assault and inflicting considerable damage and casualties on the Yankee batteries. Doubleday would be tied down protecting the Federal left for the rest of the day. General Franklin now brought up Brig. Gen. David B. Birney’s Third Corps division to form a strong supporting line along the Richmond Stage Road.47 With the attack on the left stymied, the timing of Burnside’s battle plan had gone out of kilter.
The intermittent and sometimes intense artillery duel had left a lasting impression. “Such a scene at once terrific and sublime,” wrote one Confederate, could only be compared to the “bombardment of Sebastopol.” Had the fiends of hell been let loose in these furious barrages? As Federal shells landed among Early’s men, a Georgia volunteer suddenly realized that an exploding shell could snuff out his life at any time, though “Providence ordered it otherwise.”48 Yet he and many other infantrymen on both sides would not have to wait long to find out whether they would survive through God’s grace or just dumb luck.