man who stood upright in the open plain could hope to live long.
Yet there were men who wanted to try. Up to Caldwell came the slim, handsome young colonel who commanded the two New York regiments, a dandy of a man with pointed mustaches, the name of him Nelson Miles. He wanted permission to take his two regiments and make a bayonet charge straight up the road for the stone wall. It needed just one spirited dash to clear that wall, he argued, and if two regiments started, men all over the plain would jump up and follow them. But Caldwell refused. There were no supports; if the men did breach the Rebel line they could not stay there, the thing was just impossible. . . . And then Caldwell was wounded and was carried off the field, and Miles took a bullet in the throat and went to the rear with blood dripping through the fingers which he held pressed against the wound. There was nothing for the survivors to do but hug the ground and hope for the best. 0
From his perch in the cupola General Couch had seen some of this —not much, for the smoke was very heavy, and from the rear one could make out little but the dim forms of blue-clad men swaying uncertainly in a terrible haze that glowed and sparked with deadly fixe. (One man who watched the attackers from the heights beyond the river found himself amazed that the heavy fire "did not absolutely sweep them from the face of the earth.") General Howard, who stood beside Couch for a time, heard him gasp as the smoke lifted briefly: "Oh, great God! See how our men, our poor fellows, are falling!" 10
Couch decided that enough of them had fallen in front of the stone wall, so he told Howard to lead his division farther to the right, where the Rebel line looked a bit softer. If this impregnable line could not be stormed, perhaps it might be flanked, and Howard must try. There were plenty of troops available to follow him in if his men won any success, and Howard rode off to put his division into action.
Couch's idea was a good one, but the shape of the ground was against it. Although no one seems to have realized it at the time, it simply was not possible for an attack issuing from Fredericksburg to hit the Rebel line anywhere except along that impassable sunken road. It looked as if Howard could cross the ditch where the others had crossed and could then shift to his right until he was half a mile or more north of Marye's Heights; but when his men tried it they found that they could edge to the right only a little way before striking impassable ground. A long slough, known locally as Gordon's Marsh, ran to the north on the western side of the ditch: an unobtrusive dike which forced every Federal assault on this part of the field to drift to the left and go crashing up against the one front that could not be broken. 11
Howard's men drifted and instead of flanking the stone wall they came in, at last, over the wreckage of the other two divisions, fared as they had fared, and reached the outer boundaries of human endurance on that same little rise of ground in front of the wall. Survivors hid out behind houses or face-down on the earth as the others had done, and it seemed that no one could live out in the open. Howard wrote that he had "a feeling akin to terror" whenever he had to send an aide or a mounted orderly forward with a dispatch. 12
The men who lay in the open used what poor cover they could get. One officer saw three men sheltering behind a dead horse. Here and there a man would be able to get two or three rocks which he would pile up in a pitiful little barricade. Many a soldier lay behind the corpse of a comrade while he loaded and fired. In the brick house and in other houses back on the edge of town sharpshooters found vantage points from which they could fight effectively. They and the men in the field kept up a fire which now and then stung the Southerners painfully. The Confederate brigadier who commanded the troops back of the stone wall was killed, various guns in
Yet there were men who wanted to try. Up to Caldwell came the slim, handsome young colonel who commanded the two New York regiments, a dandy of a man with pointed mustaches, the name of him Nelson Miles. He wanted permission to take his two regiments and make a bayonet charge straight up the road for the stone wall. It needed just one spirited dash to clear that wall, he argued, and if two regiments started, men all over the plain would jump up and follow them. But Caldwell refused. There were no supports; if the men did breach the Rebel line they could not stay there, the thing was just impossible. . . . And then Caldwell was wounded and was carried off the field, and Miles took a bullet in the throat and went to the rear with blood dripping through the fingers which he held pressed against the wound. There was nothing for the survivors to do but hug the ground and hope for the best. 0
From his perch in the cupola General Couch had seen some of this —not much, for the smoke was very heavy, and from the rear one could make out little but the dim forms of blue-clad men swaying uncertainly in a terrible haze that glowed and sparked with deadly fixe. (One man who watched the attackers from the heights beyond the river found himself amazed that the heavy fire "did not absolutely sweep them from the face of the earth.") General Howard, who stood beside Couch for a time, heard him gasp as the smoke lifted briefly: "Oh, great God! See how our men, our poor fellows, are falling!" 10
Couch decided that enough of them had fallen in front of the stone wall, so he told Howard to lead his division farther to the right, where the Rebel line looked a bit softer. If this impregnable line could not be stormed, perhaps it might be flanked, and Howard must try. There were plenty of troops available to follow him in if his men won any success, and Howard rode off to put his division into action.
Couch's idea was a good one, but the shape of the ground was against it. Although no one seems to have realized it at the time, it simply was not possible for an attack issuing from Fredericksburg to hit the Rebel line anywhere except along that impassable sunken road. It looked as if Howard could cross the ditch where the others had crossed and could then shift to his right until he was half a mile or more north of Marye's Heights; but when his men tried it they found that they could edge to the right only a little way before striking impassable ground. A long slough, known locally as Gordon's Marsh, ran to the north on the western side of the ditch: an unobtrusive dike which forced every Federal assault on this part of the field to drift to the left and go crashing up against the one front that could not be broken. 11
Howard's men drifted and instead of flanking the stone wall they came in, at last, over the wreckage of the other two divisions, fared as they had fared, and reached the outer boundaries of human endurance on that same little rise of ground in front of the wall. Survivors hid out behind houses or face-down on the earth as the others had done, and it seemed that no one could live out in the open. Howard wrote that he had "a feeling akin to terror" whenever he had to send an aide or a mounted orderly forward with a dispatch. 12
The men who lay in the open used what poor cover they could get. One officer saw three men sheltering behind a dead horse. Here and there a man would be able to get two or three rocks which he would pile up in a pitiful little barricade. Many a soldier lay behind the corpse of a comrade while he loaded and fired. In the brick house and in other houses back on the edge of town sharpshooters found vantage points from which they could fight effectively. They and the men in the field kept up a fire which now and then stung the Southerners painfully. The Confederate brigadier who commanded the troops back of the stone wall was killed, various guns in
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