Burnside
was appointed commander of the army of the Potomac. He accepted
the post unwillingly, for he did not think himself great enough to
fill it. It was soon proved that he was right.
On December 13th a great battle was fought at Fredericksburg in
Virginia. The weather had been very cold and the ground was covered
with frost and snow. But on the morning of the 13th, although a
white mist shrouded the land, the sun shone so warmly that it seemed
like a September day. Yet though the earth and sky alike seemed
calling men to mildness and peace the deadly game of war went on.
The centre of the Confederate army occupied some high ground known
as the Maryes Heights, and Burnside resolved to dislodge them. It
was a foolhardy attempt, for the hill was strongly held, the summit
of it bristled with cannon. Yet the order was given, and with
unquestioning valour the men rushed to the attack. As they dashed
onward the Confederate guns swept their ranks, and they were mowed
down like hay before the reaper. Still they pressed onward, and
after paying a fearful toll in dead and wounded they at length
reached the foot of the hill. Here they were confronted by a stone
wall so thick and strong that their fire had not the slightest effect
on it, and from behind which the Confederates poured a deadly hail
of bullets upon them.
Here the carnage was awful, yet still the men came on in wave after
wave, only to melt away as it seemed before the terrible fire of
the Confederates.
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