In the afternoon of the tenth, two hundred and fifty men of the Twenty-seventh were detailed to picket along the Rappahannock above Falmouth. During all the following night might be heard an unusual rumbling of cars, bringing up subsistence from Acquia Creek, and the rattling of ammunition wagons and pontoon trains, slowly moving to their respective destinations. At half-past four, on the morning of the eleventh, the Colonel passed around to the officers’ quarters, giving orders to have their companies supplied with three days’ rations, and fall in by half-past six, in light marching order. Let us leave the scene of busy preparation in camp, and for a few moments view the events transpiring on the river. Three points had been carefully selected by General Burnside where bridges were to be thrown across—one a short distance above the Lacey House, another a few rods below the railroad bridge, and the third about two miles below the city. Boat after boat is anchored in its place; plank after plank is laid in quick succession, and the river is well-nigh spanned by the trembling structure, when suddenly two signal guns break on the still night air, and a sheet of flame bursts from houses on
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 the opposite bank, where hundreds of sharp-shooters lie concealed. The defenceless bridge builders are temporarily driven from their work, while the cannon from the bluffs behind belch forth a defiant response to the rebel challenge.
To return to the Twenty-seventh. Promptly at half-past six the regiment fell in and joined the rest of the brigade, a short distance from camp. Silently, through woods and across fields, we marched to the corps rendezvous, in a deep hollow near the Phillips House, where General Sumner had his headquarters. On the way we passed long lines of troops moving rapidly to the river, or resting behind rows of musket stacks. Here we were to remain until a crossing could be effected.
Meanwhile, the frequency of cannon discharges increases. Every moment another adds its voice to the swelling volume, until from twenty batteries, comprising more than a hundred guns, arranged along the banks of the river, bursts a tempest of shot and shell over the rebel city. This continues, with little cessation, until noon. For three hours following, only occasionally a gun disturbs the comparative quiet. Then the ball opens again with renewed violence. A visit to the top of the hill, overlooking the city, reveals columns of smoke, with now and then a flash of flame, testifying to the effectiveness of the bombardment. At the river, all attempts to complete the pontoon bridge had hitherto failed.
With particular interest we gazed upon a regiment of the corps, as, tired, dusty, and powder smeared, it rejoined us after a protracted effort at the bridge. History records but few parallels to the more than heroic valor which crowned that day’s work. A trusty weapon supports the soldier’s courage, but to stand, unarmed,
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 the target of unerring sharp-shooters, unable to respond to their attacks, and in view of almost inevitable death, is the highest test of courage. It became evident that the bridge could be completed only by driving the sharp-shooters from the houses on the opposite side, by a sudden dash across the river. This hazardous duty was intrusted to the Seventh Michigan and detachments from several other regiments, and nobly was it performed. The rebels were driven from their hiding-places, the bridge touched the opposite shore, and the first act in this fearful drama closed. This success was received with universal joy, and all attention now concentrated in what the future should unfold. General Howard’s division of the Second Corps crossed over into the city, while Hancock’s and French’s bivouacked for the night in a strip of woods near the Phillips House.
Early the next morning, December twelfth, we crossed into Fredericksburg, over the bridge which had cost so much blood and labor the preceding day. Evidences of the bombardment everywhere presented themselves, in the houses perforated with shot and shell, and in the miscellaneous rubbish which hindered our progress through the street. Mattresses, pitchers, chairs, kitchen utensils, and other furniture, scattered about in grotesque confusion, testified that those who had passed the night in the town had availed themselves of all the comforts within reach. We moved down Water street, and halted at the first pontoon bridge, a few rods below the railroad, where we encamped that day and night. The Twenty-seventh spent the day in bridging gullies and mud-holes with boards and planks from neighboring fences, so that the artillery could pass. Company B was detailed to lay pontoons across a stream uniting with the Rappahannock
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 just below the town. About the middle of the afternoon the rebel batteries attempted to annoy the men engaged in these preparations, and for a time a very brisk artillery duel was maintained between the opposing forces. Sheltered as we were by the steep bank, the rebels could not obtain accurate range, and most of the shells shrieked harmlessly over our heads, and fell into the river or struck on the opposite side.
At length the eventful thirteenth arrived—a day full of scenes and experiences which will never fade from the memory of those who participated in them. Immediately after breakfast we were marched up to Caroline street, the principal street of the town, parallel with the river. Here the division was formed in line of battle, and stacked arms, while arrangements were being completed to storm the heights back of the city. Staff officers were riding in hot haste to and fro, carrying orders, or disposing the forces, and occasionally our division general, Hancock, rode slowly and proudly up and down the line, surveying the ranks, his countenance wearing an aspect of quiet and cool determination. At length the sound of cannonading comes to our ears from below, indicating that General Franklin has entered upon the task assigned him, of seizing the railroad and turning the enemy’s flank. Like banks of keys in a great organ, the rebel works rise behind the town, and gradually the chorus of notes bursts forth directly in front of us. The rebel shell crash among the houses or strike in the street, while the batteries of the Second Corps, on the north bank of the Rappahannock, send their shrieking replies over the city. “Attention!” rings out loud and long above the din. Every man is in his place, his musket at a shoulder. “Right face!” “Right shoulder shift arms!”
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 follow in quick succession. At this moment General Hancock rides up to the Twenty-seventh, and leaning forward in his saddle, with his right arm upraised, briefly addresses them: “You are the only Connecticut regiment in my division. Bring no dishonor upon the State you represent.” The order is given, “Forward! March!” reëchoed by commanders of brigades, regiments, and companies, and we move in quick time down the street to the railroad.
While the column is moving on, let us briefly survey the position of the battle-field. Fredericksburg is situated in a large amphitheatre, admirably adapted for defence. Directly in the rear of the town is a smooth field with a slightly ascending grade, extending back a little less than half a mile to the telegraph road, which is flanked by a stone wall, beyond which rises a ridge somewhat abruptly from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet high. This range of high ground extends as far as Hazel Run, a little stream emptying into the Rappahannock just below the lower edge of the town, and in the other direction bends toward the river, which it very nearly touches just above Falmouth, about a mile above Fredericksburg. Rebel batteries were strongly posted along this eminence, so that a front and enfilading fire could be secured upon any force advancing across the level plateau. General Longstreet was in command of these lines of fortifications, while Stonewall Jackson commanded the rebel right, opposite General Franklin, the whole under the supreme direction of General Lee. Bearing in mind that the task before us was to capture these formidable heights, let us return to the storming column.
Sheltered in a measure by the houses, it passes down
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 Caroline street with little interruption; but as soon as we arrived at the railroad dépôt, several rebel guns, trained upon the spot with fatal accuracy, welcome us to the encounter. Very near this point fell Captain Schweizer, the first of the long list of casualties which at nightfall told how fearfully the conflict had decimated the ranks of the Twenty-seventh. Several were knocked down, one of whom, leaping up, exclaimed earnestly, “I’ll have pay for that!” then springing to his place, rushed on to death, for no one ever saw or heard of him afterward. The division now advanced at a double-quick into the open field; then, after resting a few m............