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"For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad. " From G.K. Chesterton2
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“Chroist almoighty, we started yesterday wit’ twelve hundred men, how in God’s holy name is it we’re only two hundred an’ eighty dis marnin'!” Sean wanted to know.4
“Yer mon Burnside’s a fookin’ eejit, that’s what!” replied Eamon.5
“Himself, General Meagher, was wounded when his horse was shot, I’m hearin’” added Domhnall.6
"More like drunk and fell off," retorted Seamus.7
“John, Ed, Danny, Jim form up!” said Sargeant Tyree using their English names. "An' you'll be keepin' a civil tongue in yer head when it comes to the General or I'll have ya' flogged."8
They were all that remained of the platoon of twenty five men.9
Last night, returning to the bivouac area, they hoped more of their comrades would return. That maybe they just had become separated during the fighting instead of senselessly slaughtered, but it was not to be.10
They were too exhausted, too discouraged to search the field hospitals with their grisly mounds of severed limbs piled haphazardly outside the surgical tents. Even if the wounded survived the surgeons, infections would take many heavenward. 11
In battle, discharges of gunpowder thickened the air, combining with saliva to form a gummy paste, parching them to the point where they croaked rather than spoke. So they swilled water to cleanse the terribly bitter taste of sulfur and saltpeter from their mouths, spitting the gob on the ground. Then they choked down some hardtack and bully beef, too bone tired to go to the mess tent. Sean rummaged through the belongings of those not returned. Then passed a forbidden jug of uisge beatha, the water of life, to Eamon. 12
"Sure, Peder woulda shared if he'd been here," Sean said after taking a swig.13
"Slainte," said Eamon passing it to Seamus.14
The jug made it around before Tyree returned. "Lads, it's been a terrible day to be sure. But you'll be putting that away if ya' know what's best. These Yankee officers t'ink whiskey is the working mon's curse, not his privilege."15
He stalked away to avoid an argument for he was as disheartened as any of them and still had to maintain discipline. He was searching the field hospitals and replacement depots trying to locate his men since the lieutenant, two sergeants and corporals in addition to fourteen privates had been killed, wounded or captured during the day's hell.16
"I t'ink dem stripes turned him into Cromwell," Domhnall groused.17
"Stick a cork in it, Domhnall. Tyree's not a bad sort, he niver asked for dis, an’ no Irishman should ever be called Cromwell," said Eamon spitting on the ground at the mention of the name.18
In 1649, Cromwell fell on the Irish like a hammer from Hell. He indiscriminantly massacred men, women and children in the cities of Drogheda and Wexford, shipped twelve thousand 'indentured servants' to Bermuda and Barbados, and delighted in having Catholic priests drawn and quartered. Catholic ownership of land in Ireland fell from sixty to eight percent.19
Aves were said for those who were dead. And they slipped into tortured sleep.20
In the morning, they formed a line of march with the other survivors, and as several officers rode by, saluted as ordered by Tyree. The pontoons had been withdrawn or destroyed along with the other bridges across the Rappahannock, so for the moment they were safe until Stonewall found a ford and led his minions from hell onto their rear or flank. The column moved out.21
“Why does Lincoln let dolts crush his armies inta dust? Burnside has us funneled onto bridges an’ crossin’ a river under fire fer Christ sakes” said Eamon as they marched.22
The day before they had been forced to cross the Rappahanock on pontoons as Confederate sharpshooters and skirmishers shot into the masses of tightly packed men. 23
“Seamus, why’d ya’ keep wipin’ yer face?” asked Domhnall.24
“When we wuz crossin’ de dam bridges, didn’t one of those rebels blow poor Eoghan Mahoney’s brains right out the back of his head all onto me face! Even now, I fail it on me face.”25
“Would yez’ be switchin’ places with himself?” asked Tyree. “Put that bandana away else another of them divils chooses ya’ fer a target.”26
They had spent a cold, fireless night in Fredericksburg. In the morning they had formed up trying to take advantage of the shelter provided by the buildings.They were stationed on the Union right. They were to keep Lee and Longstreet pinned to Marye’s Height while General Meade broke through on the left. But even though Meade found a gap in Stonewall Jackson’s front, Burnside sent no troops to Meade to exploit the breakthrough. 27
When the attack on the left failed, Burnside order the right to advance and take Marye’s Height. Before them was a cleared field four hundred yards from the base of the heights. The field was bisected by a ditch fifteen feet wide, five feet deep and filled with three feet of water. Again, the troops were funneled into narrow bridges that crossed the ditch.28
“An’ den, even wit’ half the Confederate army dug in on top of Marye’s Heights, tell me why wit' over forty t'ousand troops dey send us up it one brigade at a toime,” adds Sean.29
The Confederates had over three hundred pieces of artillery, many of them sighted on this field. Longstreet said “A chicken could not live on that field when we opened up on it.” Nor could the brave men being sent to their deaths by commanders across the river. Confederates started hammering the Yankees with solid shot and shells that tore huge gaps through their lines, visible gaps that seconds before had been soldiers.“Didya’ see what happened to Declan McDermott?” asked Sean reliving one of the horrors of the previous day. “He was marching next to me when we formed up after the ditch. One of them shells took his trunk clean off his legs. Bejaysus, didn’t he take t’ree more steps before his dead legs fell down. 30
They had formed at the base of the heights. Meagher a tough Irishman the English had exiled to Van Dieman’s Land (Tasmania) for his part in the failed Irish rebellion of 1848, was their commander. 31
“Aye,” said Domhnall, “and den dey switched to canister and grapeshot. I saw Finbar staggered and when I tried to help him, he had no face. From his waist up was just a sheet of blood, his t’roat shredded, his jaw torn away so’s he couldn’t even scream, t’was just a gurgling sound. I t’ink he drowned in his own blood. And da’ Lieutenant holding his sword, marchin’ forward calm as ya’ please, until a piece of chain from da’ grapeshot took his hand off. Da’ sword flipped backwards, stuck in da’ ground an’ his hand still grippin’ da’ hilt. Couldn’t stop da’ bleedin’ wit’ blood gushin’ and shooting out from every vein. But he kept advancin’, it was like he just got tired, lay down and just went to sleep."32
Their battle cry “fag an bealeach” or “clear the way’ rose up to the Lee’s army in both Gaelic and English. Many of the troop had been born in Ireland and had yet to make the hated English language their tongue. The Irish Brigade of the New York Fighting Sixty Ninth charged uphill at the well entrenched troops who poured a withering fire into them. 33
The rebels were lined up three deep on a sunken road behind a stone wall. Even though the range of their rifles was four hundred yards, they waited until the Brigade was one hundred yards out, point blank range.34
“When I was a kid, I climbed a tree to get the honey out of a hive,” said Sean. “But Chroist, I nivir heard a buzzin’ da’ likes a when dey opened up on us from behind dat cursed wall." 35
"God A’moighty, it was like a scythe passing over a wheatfield. I don’t know how any of us survived,” said Seamus. 36
Confederates would later tell of one brave soldier who made it to within thirty yards of the wall. Most of the dead and wounded never got within seventy yards of the wall before the attack was mercifully called off.37
Afterwards, Lee said “It is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it."38
Eamon said “Meagher t’inks dis foightin’ will ‘clear da’ way’ for us if…when we git back home.”39
“In a pig’s oye, da same “Irish need not apply” signs’ll be everywhere just as before,” countered Domhnall. 40
“Me Da says de only t’ing a vote’s good fer is a point o’ whiskey on election day” put in Sean. 41
“Yah, before dey cartcha’ off in a Paddy wagon wit’ da’ rest a’ da’ drunken Paddy’s,” said Eamon.42
“Aye, doncha know dey leave da more valuable darkies back in Washington to dig trenches and build fortifications. Us dey t’row inta da’ meatgroinder, just like at Antietam,” growled Domhnall.43
At Antietam, command confusion resulted in the Irish Brigade charging the center of the Rebel line entrenched behind a sunken road so a flanking maneuver that broke the Confederate position could be executed. One of the Confederate units defending Bloody Lane was the Irish Regiment, commanded by General Thomas Cobb. And as always, the fighting between Irishmen proved savage. 44
“Doncha go talking about flamin’ Bloody Lane. It was dere we lost our own Captain McGonigle,” said Eamon crossing himself. He would never forget the sight of the Captain's head exploding like a watermelon dropped from the top of a barn. The headless body sat ramrod straight atop the horse until it toppled sideways out of the saddle. 45
“An’ a good mon he was,” agreed Sean. “One a’ da’ stretcher bearers dey let pick up the wounded told me we killed General Thomas bleedin’ Cobb, da’ bastard in charge of da' Rebel Irish regiment today.”46
“We t’ought sexty percent casualties was bad,” said Eamon “Chroist, dey took all the meat off da bones dis toime.”47
“Meagher says we made it higher up the heights than any other unit,” said Tyree.48
“Guess dat makes us da tallest midget,” Sean wisecracked.49
“More like eejit,” countered Eamon.50
The Irish brigade served at Chancellorsville again suffering heavy casualties. Meagher was refused permission to recruit replacements and resigned. By the time it reached Gettysburg, the Irish Brigade could muster only six hundred men, little more than a regiment. It was disbanded in eighteen sixty four and the troopers were absorbed by other units.51
During the Civil War one hundred twenty seven Irishmen, from all branches, received the Medal Of Honor for their valor. Most were born in Ireland and emigrated to America.52
The Fighting Sixty Ninth, heavily laden with Irish surnames, would be resurrected and serve with distinction in World War One. They did it because no one could doubt the valor of the Irish Brigade that had been established at such a terrible cost.53
Adding your comment:
you deserve a gold 
for this one; but sorry I'm not a judge.
and made the Brits ecstatic.
Geri
I felt like crying out to the soldiers, "may you have the luck of the Irish!" Yet reading the language dripping in Guiness was also like reading the ole Scottish Balads in my Norton Anthology Of Poetry complete with the explanations at the bottom 
