Morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven [Conn.]) 1848-1894, 1885-01-30
FREDERICKSBURG.
Night on Its Fatal Field-ssLighted
Burial by the Meteor SpIendOrs
Their Native SkY..s

Night on Its Fatal Field-ssLfghted to
Burial by the Meteor SpIendors OF
Their Native Sky.''
A correspondent General Chamberlain, of
Maine) Of the Congregationalist tells the
following story of the late war:
Twenty-Five years have passed since t'Fred-
ericksburg" Of what then was, not much
is left but memory. Faces and forms of men
and things that then were have changed
perchance to dust. New life has covered
some; the rest look but lingering farewells.
But whatever changes may beautify those
storm-swept and barren slopes, there is one
character from which they can never pass.
Death gardens, haunted by glorious hosts,
they must abide. No bloom can there I'm
fold which does not wear the rich token of
the inheritance of heroic blood; no breeze
be waited that does not bear the breath of
the immortal life there breathed away.
Of all that splendid but unavailing valor
no one has told the story; nor can I. The
pen has no wing to follow where that sacri-
flee and devotion sped their flight But
memory may rest down on some night scenes
too quiet and sombre with shadow to be WV
idly depicted, and yet which have their in
terest from very contrast with the tangled
and Iurid lights of battle.
The desperate charge was over. We had
not reached the enemy's Notifications, but
only that fatal crest where we had seen five
lines of battle mount but to be cut to earth
as by sword swoop of fire. We had that
costly honor which sometimes falls to the
''reserve'-to go in when all is havoc and
confusion, through storm and slaughter, to
cover the broken and depleted ranks of COM
rades and take the battle from their hands.
Thus we had replaced the gallant few still
lingering on the crest, and received that
whitening fire which nothing could Withstand
by throwing ourselves flat in slight hollow
Of ground, within pistol shot of the enemy's
works, and, mingled with the dead and dy
ing that strewed the field, we returned the
fire till it Redeemed into night, and at last
fell away through darkness and silence.
But out of that silence from the battles
crash and roar rose new sounds more appal-
ling still; rose or fell, you knew not which,
or whether from the earth or air; strange
of which you could not To-
cate the source, a smothered moan that
seemed to come from distances beyond reach
of the natural sense, wall so far and deep
and wide, as if thousand discords were
flowing together into a keynote weird, I'M
aarthlv. terrible to hear and bear, yet start
ling in its nearness; the writhing concord
broken by cries for help, pierced by shrieks
IF paroxysm; some begging for a drop of
water, some calling on God for pity; and |
some on friendly hands to finish what the |
enemy had so horribly begun; some with de- |
irious, dreamy voices murmuring loved |
names, as if the dearest were bending over
hem. some gathering their last strength to |
ire a musket to call attention to them where
hey Law helpless and deserted; and under
,eafb. all the time, the deep bass note from
losed lips too hopeless or too heroic to artic-
late their agony.
Who could sleep or who would! Our po-
ition was isolated and exposed. Officers
must be on the alert with their command.
But the human took the mastery of the OIL
'ial; sympathy of soldiership. Command
ould be devolved, but pity not. So with
taft officer sailed forth to see what we
ould do where the helpers seemed so few.
Taking some observations in order not to
ose the bearing of our own position, we
uided our steps by the most piteous of the
ries. Our part was but little-to relieve