The National tribune., 1881-10-08
AT FREDERICKSBURG continued from Sd page.

any one moved among the mass of bleeding men
it was the signal for the rifle balls to whistle
around. Few of us expected to live until night,
and but few did. Keeping very quiet, hugging
the ground closely, we talked together in low
tones. The bullets kept whistling and dropping,
and every few moments some one would cease
talking never to speak again. How quietly they
passed away from the crimson field to eternity,
their last gaze on their waving flag, the last
sound to reach their ears the vOlleys of musketry
and their comrades cheers.
What a cosmopolitan crowd these dead and
wounded were-Amercans from the Atlantic
Coast and the Pacific States, from the praries,
from the great valleys of the Mississippi and the
Ohio; 1rishmen from the banks of the Shannon,
and Germans from the Rhine and the blue Dan
ube; Frenchmen from the Seine and Italians
from the classic Tiber, mingled their blood and
went down in death together, that our cause and
the Union might live Every little while we
could see other columns emerge from the city,
deplOy upon the plain, march forward, but never
get so far as the brick house The appearance of
these troops would draw the fire of the batteries
on the hills above u.s. and hundreds of deadly
proiectiles would 60 screaming over us, and we
could see them bursting in the midst of our
friends Evening came at last; the sun went
down behind the terrible heights, and anx-
iously watched the shadows lengthen and steal
across the field of blood, creeping slowly the
plain through the houses of the city in the shade,
then up the church tower until the only object
that reflects the rays was the cross of FURNISHED
gold, which sparkled a moment against the pur-
pie sky, and then twilight was upon us and
deepened until it was difficult to discern objects.
We thought the battle ended when through the
darkness loomed up the divisions of Hooker
Nobly they came to the work, with empty mus
kets and orders to carry the position with the
bayonet. The dark mass passed the brick house
and almost to the point that Hancock had
reached. They had come up through the gloam-
ing unseen and surged against the base of
Maryes Heights
Again the hills flashed fire, shook rocked
roared, and belched forth more tons of iron on
the red plain more minutes of useless carnage
The sombre wave rolled back, the last and most
absurd attempt of the disastrous day had come to
naught and seventeen hundred more had been
added to the pOnderous list Of casualties. Clouds
overshadowed the skies, and, guided by the lurid
fires still smOulderng through the ebony dark
ness, the immense crowd of wounded began crawl
ing, struggling, dragging themselves towards the
city, those who were slightly hurt assisting others
who were more seriously injured; those with
limbs using muskets for crutches, many
fainting and falling by the way. And when in
the town how hard to find spot to rest or a
geon to bind up the wounds. More wounded than
the city had inhabitants, every public hall and
house filled to overflow, the porches of the resi-
dences covered with bleeding men, the surgeons
busy everywhere. In the lecture room of the
Episcopal church eight operating tables in full
blast, the floor is densely packed with men whose
limbs are crushed, fractured, and torn. Lying
there, in deep pools of blood, they wait so very
patiently almost cheerfully, their turn to be
treated there is no grumbling, no screaming,
hardly a moan many of the badly hurt smile
and chat, and one, who has both legs shot off, is
cracking jokes with an officer who cannot laugh
at the humorous salies, for his lower Jaw is shot
away.
The cases here are nearly all capital and ampu-
tatlOn is nearly always resOrted to. Hands and
feet, arms and legs are thrown under each table.
and the sickening piles grow larger as the night
progresses. The delicate limbs of the drummer
boy fall along with the rough hand of the veteran
in years. but all, every one is so brave and cheer
full. Towards morning the conversation flags:
many drop off to sleep before they can be at
tended to, and some of them never wake again
The only sound is the crunching of the surgeons
saws and now and then the melancholy music of
a random she'll dismally wailing overhead. Few
the prayers that are said but / can yet hear the
soft voice of boyish soldier as he is lifted on to
the table, his limbs mass of quivering acerated
flesh, quietly say, oh my God, l offer all my
here in atOnement for the sins by
which have crucified Thee" Outside, the MEM
bers of the Christian Commission are hard at work
relieving all within reach, the stretcher-carriers
hurrying the wounded from the field: few
priests and the chaplains were quietly moving
among the suffering thousands, striving, giving |
them comfort and soothing their dying hour |
Out ON the railroad at Hamiltons Law the BODY |
Of the fearless commander of the Third brigade |
Of the Pennsylvania Reserves General C.. Eager
Jackson, and at the Bernard House, where he |
had been carried, died at midnight the Youngest
general officer and one of the most beloved of |
all that fell, General George D. Bayard of the |
cavalry. While conversing with some other |
officers early in the day shell struck the group !
passing through the Overcoat of Captain H. G. |
Gibson, destroying his sabre 1t crushed General |
Bayard'S thighs and carried away a norton Of |