DECEMBER 12, 1862:
The Battle
of Fredericksburg (Day Two).
Union troops
continue to pour into Fredericksburg. The burning and looting continues
unchecked. Above and around the city, Confederate forces await battle.
Union Nurse Clara Barton writes to her Cousin Vira. Her
letter reads in part:
Five minutes time
with you; and God only knows what those five minutes might be worth to the
many-doomed thousands sleeping around me. It is the night before a battle. The
enemy, Fredericksburg, and its mighty entrenchments lie before us, the river
between - at tomorrow's dawn our troops will assay to cross, and the guns of
the enemy will sweep those frail bridges at every breath.
The moon is shining through
the soft haze with a brightness almost prophetic. For the last half hour I have
stood alone in the awful stillness of its glimmering light gazing upon the
strange sad scene around me striving to say, "Thy will Oh God be
done."
The camp fires blaze with
unwanted brightness, the sentry's tread is still but quick - the acres of
little shelter tents are dark and still as death, no wonder for us as I gazed
sorrowfully upon them. I thought I could almost hear the slow flap of the grim
messenger's wings, as one by one he sought and selected his victims for the
morning. Sleep weary one, sleep and rest for tomorrow toil. Oh! Sleep and visit
in dreams once more the loved ones nestling at home. They may yet live to dream
of you, cold lifeless and bloody, but this dream soldier is thy last, paint it
brightly, dream it well…Already the roll of the moving artillery is sounded in
my ears. The battle draws near and I must catch one hour's sleep for tomorrow's
labor.
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