May 7, 1863, The New York Herald
Our Special Reports from the Battle Field.
OPERATIONS ON SUNDAY.
After the disaster to our right wing on Saturday and the manifestation the rebels made of their position and intentions, Gen. Hooker determined upon a radical change of front. Hitherto, as the reader has seen, his line faced east, south and west. It was now certain that the main body of the enemy had got around to our right, or on the west of us, and that but small bodies of them remained between us and Fredericksburg. Acting upon this supposition, and with the full confidence that he would be powerfully assailed the next morning on his right, the commanding general determined at midnight of Saturday to form a powerful line of battle, facing directly to the right.
INTENDED LINE OF BATTLE SUNDAY MORNING.
The organization of this line gave Reynolds the extreme right, with his right flank resting on the river, Slocum the centre, and Sickles the left, his left flank resting at Scott creek. Couch and Meade were left to look after the front towards Fredericksburg, while the remnant of the Eleventh was to be used, if it could be reorganized, wherever it could be made the most effective. In the formation of this line I have given particular attention to those forces that were most actively engaged. On the previous night, during the confusion of the stampede, Gen. Berry, of Sickles’ corps, had moved up the plank road and taken a position just at the edge of the woods, where he met the enemy as they were advancing to complete the discomfiture of the right wing, and had hurled them back most effectually. He was then ordered to retain the ground he had thus defended, which was on either side of the plank road, as indicated in the above diagram, which would give him the left of our right wing.
During the night of Saturday, Birney, having been annoyed by the sharpshooters of the enemy lying in the woods about the cleared field in which he bivouacked for the night, ordered out his division, and charged bayonets through the woods to the plank road, effectually clearing it of all bodies of rebels. He then fell back again into the field with Whipple.
THE GRAND FIGHT.
At daylight on Sunday morning the effort was making to withdraw both Whipple and Birney from this field and put them in position on the left of our new line, half a mile back, Whipple to have the extreme left, Birney the centre, with his right on Berry’s left flank. This new line had been provided for during the night by the construction of breastworks and rifle pits along its entire front, and throwing up field works for the artillery in the rear.
THE ATTACK.
A little before sunrise, while General Sickles was removing his two divisions from the little farm that I have so often had occasion to refer to, the enemy fell upon him in great force, the attack coming from the woods on the northwest of the field. The bulk of the corps had been withdrawn from the field, and were already in position at the designated point. A single brigade, each of Birney’s and Whipple’s corps, remained, and these set their faces bravely towards the enemy and returned the fire that was so unceremoniously poured upon them.
Simultaneously with this attack the rebels pushed on down the plank road and fell upon Berry’s division at the edge of the woods, and then upon French, lying on Berry’s right flank, and almost in a moment the fighting became general and intensely hot along the entire left wing of the army. The position in which the two divisions of Sickles’ corps were placed, so far in advance of the rest of the army, and with no breastworks to shelter them, was delicate in the extreme. The enemy, for the first time, brought up several pieces of field artillery, with which they opened upon that little body of brave men with a vigor that threatened their annihilation. But there are no soldiers in the corps that ever submit to defeat. It is Hooker’s old command, and is now distinguished from the others by the Commanding General as the “Old Guard.” It is one of the finest bodies of soldiers the world has ever produced – veterans of a dozen hard fought campaigns – scarred, ragged, trusty and brave – men that have never been known to quail under however so severe a fire they might be placed – doing and daring in every emergency as though always sure of the success that has hitherto invariably rewarded their efforts. Such a body of men deserve a distinguished position, and always feel badly used when not permitted to occupy the front ranks in time of battle.
Here is the famous division of Shields’ whose exploits in the Shenandoah valley gave them a name that will ever be glorious. And here, too, is the magnificent division of the lamented Kearny – men who never faltered under any fire, however galling. And here, also, is the veteran column led by Hooker through the peninsular campaign, and with which he established his reputation as a fighting general. Such material may be equalled in the ranks of American soldiers, but the world has never, and never can produce their superiors. The “Old Guard” is an appropriate title to be given them, and the distinction is eminently meritorious.
On the occasion of this Sunday morning attack the colors of the corps were still upon the field, as also the corps commander. Their brigade colors were also there, and he is but a poor soldier who deserts his flag when it is in danger. There was danger now. They were assailed by not less than twenty thousand of the enemy, against whom they could oppose scarcely more than five thousand men in both brigades combined. Fortunately there were one or two batteries yet remaining on the field, which were so efficiently worked as to check the advance of the rebels. Gallantly they fought, those two brigades, many of their number falling upon the field under the merciless fire of the sheltered foe; but they would not run, however severe that fire might be. But it was impossible that they could stand long against such odds as assailed them here. For half an hour they held their ground, and then fell back in good order to the shelter of the stone wall that divides this field from Chancellorsville opening, dragging their cannon after them. And here they made another glorious stand. If some of their numbers were left upon the upper field, ten times the number of the foe, who now advanced from his shelter and occupied the ground they had vacated were laid there to keep them company. The position was changed now. The weaker party had the shelter while the stronger were forced to fight in the open field. And coming into this field the rebels also exposed themselves to a most severe raking from several field batteries planted on the other side of the neck close by the position of Whipple’s division. It was truly astonishing how lavish they were of human life and blood. Regiment after regiment were completely swept away by our musketry and the grape and canister of our artillery, and yet fresh regiments were as often pushed forward to take their places. At last, gaining possession of the woods on the right of the stone wall, they got an enfilading fire upon our little band of heroes, who were compelled to abandon their position. But if the enemy had driven them back it had cost him dearly. That little field was strewn all over with the mangled corpses of the slain rebels, telling the silent story of the desperation of the struggle.
THE GENERAL FIGHT.
The determined obstinacy of this little band of two small brigades, in holding the rebels for more than an hour in check, had given General Hooker opportunity to perfect the formation of his main line of battle on the line he had intended it to take, and with the exception of these two brigades, who were too much exhausted to renew the action immediately, the line was formed precisely as desired. The two brigades that had thus far done the severe fighting fell back to the rear, leaving the field open for the enemy to advance up to our rifle pits.
THE POSITION.
By a glance at the diagram that heads the account of this day’s proceedings, it will be seen that along the rear of the line of infantry we had a large number of field batteries planted. These were protected by earthworks that had been thrown up during the previous evening and night. Our front line of battle was formed in rifle pits and behind breastworks of timber and brush, hastily thrown up, but affording some shelter to the men. The second, or reserve line, lay upon the field, and was intended to advance to the breastworks when the first line should become exhausted. The line was formed upon either side of the plank road leading to Orange Court House, and close up to the woods. We had a section of Dimmick famous battery planted directly in this road on a line with our reserves which swept the road to prevent the enemy advancing down it. But the enemy had also brought around a quantity of field artillery, with which they opened upon Captain Dimmick with great earnestness. The duel fought between these batteries was a hard one. The brave Dimmick fell during its progress, and many of his gunners were carried to the rear, no longer useful as warriors.
THE MUSKETRY.
But the enemy had advanced through the woods close up to our lines, and were attacking us in great force, despite our artillery. We filled the woods with shell, crossing fires in all directions, but still the masses of the enemy crowded on. It seemed as if they were a dense mob, those in the rear being ignorant of the carnage going on in front crowding their companions on to sure destruction. They appeared in front of our lines for at least a mile, along the front of the entire Third and Second corps, coming up in dense masses, climbing over the heaps of the fallen, firing heavy volleys, and going down among the slain as the response broke from our ranks. It was frightful to contemplate the slaughter to which these men were forced. Whole brigades would be swept away in the determined effort to force our lines, and still other brigades would spring up to take their places. And so they fought us, and so we continued to fight, until the cartridge boxes of our men began to grow light, and their powers of endurance began to flag under the constant exertion.
In this frightful life and death struggle the whole plain of Chancellorsville was swept by the missiles of one or the other party, and heart sick and weary of witnessing such sacrifices of human life, I turned my horse’s head away and moved down the road towards the ford. And here other scenes equally effecting met my eye. Long trains of ambulances were constantly coming down the road, depositing their loads of suffering, mangled men at impromptu hospitals hastily fitted up beneath the shelter of the woods, where large gangs of surgeons were occupied to the utmost limit of their ability in dressing the wounds. The road swarmed with those not sufficiently wounded to necessitate carriage in an ambulance, yet for whose sufferings as they went hobbling and groaning along the stoutest hearted must bleed.
And still the carnage went on. It was nine o’clock. Since five o’clock that deafening, horrible roar of musketry had known no cessation and the loud booming of a hundred cannon sent the sound only to a greater distance without adding to its volume. And yet our men held their position. Could human endurance stand more? They, too, were suffering; not slain so lavishly as the enemy, because sheltered; but their ranks were sensibly thinning. Half past nine o’clock– our column is growing weak, 10 o’clock– the work of death still goes on. Ten thousand brave men have closed their eyes in death during the past five hours. Two thousand an hour slain! Ten thousand more have been mangled and crippled for life. The ratio of deaths to the simply wounded was never equalled in war. One to one. We mowed the enemy down by brigades; they wounded us by dozens and scores. Could we endure the exertion long enough? Even though they did so greatly outnumber us we should finally destroy them. But our men were exhausted.
Half past ten o’clock. Our ranks are broken. From sheer fatigue our men have given way. One entrance into those rifle pits and the still dense masses of the enemy make but short work of clearing them. But though repulsed, we are not disordered. Like veterans, every column falls back in order, and the line is re-established at the old brick house, Chancellorsville.
THE CLOSE OF THE BATTLE.
The old house had been taken early in the battle for a hospital, and was now crowded with wounded. Our lines were reformed along in front of it to hold, if possible, the cross roads. The enemy halted on the edge of the woods, as if to breathe, and there was a few moments of silence. That horrible roar has ceased. The quiet is painful. But it lasts but a few seconds. The enemy brings forward his guns and commences to shell our new position.
NARROW ESCAPE OF GENERAL HOOKER.
And here the Commanding General met with a very narrow escape. He was standing upon the porch of the old brick house, leaning against one of the pillars, when a shell struck the pillar, shattering it to splinters. The General was thrown down and somewhat stunned; but otherwise was unhurt. It was not his fate to be injured in this battle. He had been on the field throughout its continuance, everywhere present where the fight was the hottest, encouraging his men to renewed efforts, and had escaped without a scratch. His safety was most miraculous.
THE BRICK HOUSE BURNED.
The vigorous shelling of the enemy riddled that old mansion in all directions, and some of the wounded who had already had their wounds dressed, were killed. At last an incendiary shell burst within the building, and soon it was enveloped in flames. Some of the wounded were removed. How many perished I have not been able to ascertain.
A RENEWED ASSAULT.
Between eleven and twelve o’clock the enemy mustered their forces and renewed the assault. They came down upon us in solid masses, against which it seemed like folly for our comparatively small force, wearied and exhausted as they were, to contend. But they did contend. They accepted the challenge of battle, and though overpowered, fought like heroes, contesting every inch of ground back to the White House, half a mile on the road to the Ford, and here the contest ceased. Here we had a powerful array of artillery that drove the rebels back as rapidly as they advanced, and they were glad to accept the opportunity of resting from the fierce struggle.
DEFERRED.
There is much of incident and personal experience and observation that I am reluctantly compelled to omit in this communication, owing to the lengths to which it has been extended. These items may furnish the matter for another letter. Let me simply add here that, save a slight skirmish this evening on the left, the particulars of which I have not yet received, there has been no fighting since Sunday.
The result of the great struggle cannot be told. The burning woods have ended the torture of many wounded, while the bulk of our own slain and many of our worst wounded were left upon the field from which we were driven. We have lost ground; but our lines are now so circumscribed that we shall have no trouble in holding them. We have taken about five thousand prisoners, in addition to which we have weakened the enemy by twenty thousand killed and wounded. Our own loss will be not far from twelve thousand killed, and wounded and missing.