GETTYSBURG
Harry took many messages that night, and he witnessed the gathering of
the generals about Lee. He saw Ewell come, hobbling on his crutches,
eager for battle and disappointed that they had not pushed the victory.
Hill returned again, refusing to yield to his illness. And there was
Longstreet, thick-bearded, the best fighter that Lee had since the death
of Jackson; McLaws, Hood, Heth, Pender, Jubal Early, Anderson and others,
veterans of many battles, great and small.
They talked long and earnestly and pointed many times to the battlefield
and the opposing heights. While they talked, a man appeared among the
men in blue on Cemetery Hill, accompanied only by a staff officer and an
orderly. He had ridden a long distance, and naturally lean and haggard,
these traits in his appearance were exaggerated by weariness and
anxiety. He looked as little like a great general as Jackson had looked
in those days before he had sprung into fame.
His military hat was black and broad of brim, and the brim, having
become limp, drooped down over his face. There were spectacles on his
nose, and it is said of him that he could have been taken more easily
for a teacher than for a commander-in-chief. Thus Meade came to his
army in the decisive moment of his country's life. He inspired neither
enthusiasm nor discouragement. He looked upon those left from the
battle and upon the brigades which had come since, thousands of men
already sound asleep among the white stones of the churchyard. Then
he turned in a calm and businesslike manner to the task of arranging a
stern front for the storm which he knew would burst upon them to-morrow.
The respect of his officers for him increased.
Lee's generals went to their respective commands. Harry once more took
orders, and, as he carried messages or brought them back, he never
failed to see all that he could. The great corps of Ewell was drawn up
on the battlefield of the day, Hill's forces extended to Willoughby Run,
and the Southern line was complete along the whole curve. They also had
the welcome news that Stuart at Carlisle had heard of the battle and
would be present with the cavalry on the morrow.
Harry, riding about in the darkness, recovered much of his spirits.
The whole Southern army would be present in the morning, and while
Jackson was dead, his spirit might ride again at their head. Now he
awaited the dawn with confidence, believing that Lee would win another
great victory.
Harry was sent on his last errand far after midnight, and it took him to
one of Ewell's divisions, in the edge of Gettysburg. It was a clear
night, with a bright summer sky, a good moon and the stars in their
myriads twinkling peacefully over the panorama of human passion and
death. But they seemed very far away and cold to the boy, who was
chilled by the night and the impending sense of mighty conflict.
In Virginia they were fighting against the invader and in defense of
their own soil. Now they were the invader, and it was the men in blue
who defended.
As he passed over that battlefield, on which the dead and the badly hurt
yet lay, his heart was dissolved for the time in sadness. The dead were
thick all around him, and there were many hurt seriously who were so
still that he did not know whether they were alive or not. He heard
very few groans. He noticed often on the battlefields that the hurt
usually shut their teeth together and endured in silence. As he
approached one of the little streams, a form twisted itself suddenly
from his path, and a weak voice exclaimed:
"For God's sake don't step on me!"
Harry looked down. It was a boy with yellow hair, younger than himself.
He could not have been over sixteen, but he wore a blue uniform and a
bullet had gone through his shoulder. Harry had a powerful sensation of
pity.
"I would not have stepped on you," he said. His duty urged him on,
but his feelings would not let him go, and he added:
"I'll help you."
He lifted the lad, rapidly cut away his coat, and slicing it into strips,
bound up tightly the two wounds in his shoulder where the bullet had
gone in and where it had come out.
"You've lost a lot of blood," he said, "but you've got enough left to
live on until you gather another supply, and you won't lose any more
now."
"Thank you," murmured the boy; "but you're very good for--for a rebel."
Harry laughed.
"Why, you innocent child!" he said. "Have they been filling your head
with tales of our ferocity and cruelty?"
He went down to the stream, dipped up water in his cap, and brought
it back to the boy, who drank eagerly. Then he placed him in a more
comfortable position on the turf, and patting his head, said:
"You'll get well sure, and maybe you and I will meet after the war and
be friends."
All of which came true. Its like happened often in this war. But he
went out of Harry's mind, as he walked on and delivered his message
in the edge of Gettysburg. He could not return before seeking the
Invincibles, who were surely here in the vanguard--if they were yet
alive. Harry shuddered. All his friends might have perished in that
whirlwind of death. He soon learned that they had suffered greatly,
but that those who were left were lying on the grass of what had been
a lawn.
He found the lawn quickly and saw dark figures strewed about upon the
ground. They were so still and silent that they looked like the dead,
but Harry knew that it was the stupor of exhaustion. As they were
inside the lines and needing no watch, there was no sentinel.
Harry stepped over the low fence and looked again at the figures.
The moonlight silvered them and they did not stir. He could not see a
single form move. It was weird, uncanny, and the blood chilled in his
veins. But he shook himself violently, angry at his weakness, and
walked among them, looking for the two colonels and the two lieutenants.
A figure suddenly sat up before him and a dignified voice said:
"Your footstep awakened me, Harry, and if there is a message, I am here
to receive it. But I ask you in the name of mercy to be quick. I was
never before so much overpowered that I could not hold up my head a
minute."
Before Harry could speak another figure rose.
"Yes, Harry, be quick if you can, and let us go back to sleep," said
Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire in a pleading voice.
"Thank God I've found you both. I have no message for you. I was
merely looking to see if all of you were alive."
"You've always had a kind heart, Harry," said Colonel Talbot, "and we
can't tell you how much we appreciate what you've done."
"Are St. Clair and Happy Tom here?"
"I cannot tell you. We suffered from such tremendous exhaustion that
our men fell upon the grass, we with them, and all of us sank into
stupor. But, Harry, they must be here! We couldn't have lost those
boys! Why, I can't think of them as not living!"
"If you'll let me make a suggestion, lie down and go to sleep again,"
said Harry. "I'll find 'em."
The two colonels stretched a little, as if they were about to rise and
go with him, but the effort was beyond their powers. They sank back and
returned to sleep. Harry went on, his heart full of fear for the two
young friends who were so dear to him.
The survivors of the Invincibles lay in all sorts of positions, some
on their backs, some on their sides, some on their faces, and others
doubled up like little children. It was hard to recognize those dark
figures, but he came at last to one in a lieutenant's uniform, and he
was sure that it was Langdon. He was afraid at first that he was dead,
but he put his hand on his shoulder and shook it.
There was no response, but Harry felt the warmth of the body pass
through the cloth to his hand, and he knew that Langdon was living.
He shook him again.
Happy opened his eyes slowly and regarded Harry with a long stare.
"Are you a ghost?" he asked solemnly.
"No, I was never more alive than I am now."
"I don't believe you, Harry. You're a ghost and so am I. Look at the
dead men lying all around us. We're just the first up. Why, Harry,
nobody could go through the crater of an active volcano, as we've done,
and live. I was either burned to death or shot to death with a bullet
or blown to pieces with a shell. I don't know which, but it doesn't
matter. What kind of a country is this, Harry, into which we've been
resurrected?"
"Stop your foolishness, Happy. You're alive, all right, although you
may not be to-morrow night. The whole Army of the Potomac is coming up
and there's going to be another great battle."
"Then it's just as well that I'm alive, because General Lee will need
me. But, Harry, don't you think I've answered enough questions and that
I've been awake long enough? Harry, remember that I'm your friend and
comrade, almost your brother, and let me go back to sleep."
"Where is St. Clair? Was he killed?"
"No. A million shells burst over both of us, but we escaped them all.
But Arthur will be dead to the world for a while, just the same.
His is the fourth figure beyond me, but you couldn't wake him if you
fired a cannon at his ear, and in two minutes you won't be able to wake
me with another cannon."
Happy's head fell back as he spoke, and in less than half the time he
gave he had joined the band of the original seven sleepers. Harry,
stepping lightly over the slumbering figures--he had left his horse
on the hill--went back to the staff, where he saw that many were yet
watching. At the urgent advice of an older officer he stretched himself
between two blankets to protect his body from dew and slept a little
before dawn. He, too, had felt the exhaustion shown by the Invincibles,
but his nervous system was keyed highly, too high, in fact, to sleep
long. Moreover, he seemed to find some new reserve of strength, and
when Dalton put his hand upon his shoulder he sprang to his feet,
eager and active. Dalton had not been sent on many errands the night
before, and, sleeping longer than Harry, he had been up a half hour
earlier.
"You'll find coffee and food for the staff back a little," said Dalton,
"and I'd advise you to take breakfast, Harry."
"I will. What's going on?"
"Nothing, except the rising of the sun. See it, Harry, just coming over
the edge of the horizon behind those two queer hills."
The rim of the eastern sky was reddening fast, and Round Top and Little
Round Top stood out against it, black and exaggerated. They were raised
in the dawn, yet dim, to twice their height, and rose like gigantic
towers.
But there was light enough already for Harry to see masses of men on the
opposing slopes, and stone fences running along the hillsides, some of
which had been thrown up in the night by soldiers.
"I take it that the whole Army of the Potomac is here," he said.
"So our scouts tell us," replied Dalton. "Our forces are gathered, too,
except the six thousand infantry under Pickett and McLaws and the
cavalry under Stuart. But they'll come."
Harry and Dalton ate breakfast quickly, and, hurrying back, stood near
their chief, ready for any service. All the Southern forces were in
line. Heth held the right, Pender the left, and Anderson, Hood, and
McLaws and the others were stationed between. The brilliant sun moved
slowly on and flooded the town, the hills and the battlefield of the
day before with light. The officers of either side with their powerful
glasses could plainly see the hostile troops. Harry had glasses of
his own, and he looked a long time. But he saw little movement in the
hostile ranks. Meade and Hancock and the others had worked hard in the
hours of darkness and the Army of the Potomac was ready.
Harry expected to hear the patter of rifles. Surely the battle would
open at once. But there was no sound of strife. It seemed instead
that a great silence had settled over the two armies and all between.
Perhaps each was waiting for the other to make the first cast of the
dice.
Harry studied Lee's face, but he could read nothing there. Like Jackson
he had the power of dismissing all expression. He wore a splendid new
uniform which had recently been sent to him by the devoted people of
Virginia, and with his height and majestic figure, his presence had
never seemed more magnificent than on that morning. It was usually he
who opened the battle, never waiting for the enemy, but as yet he gave
no order.
Longstreet, Hill and Hood presently joined Lee, and the four walked a
little higher up the ridge, where they examined the Northern army for a
long time through their glasses. Lee must have recognized the strength
of that position, the formidable ridges, the stone walls bristling with
batteries, all crowned with an army of veterans more numerous than his
own, and, even when Stuart and Pickett should come, more numerous yet
by fifteen thousand men. But his army, with the habit of victory, was
eager for battle, sure that it could win, despite the numbers and
position of the enemy.
The generals came back, but Lee said little. Harry often wished that
he could have penetrated the mind of the great commander that morning,
a mind upon which so much hung and which must have been assailed by
doubts and fears, despite the impenetrable mask of his face. But he did
not yet give any orders to attack, and Harry and Dalton, who had nothing
to do but look on, were amazed. There was the Army of the Potomac
waiting, and it was not Lee's habit to let it wait.
Slow though the sun was, it was now far up the blue arch and the day was
intensely hot. The golden beams poured down and everything seemed to
leap out into the light. Harry clearly saw the Northern cannon and
now and then he saw an officer moving about. But the men in blue were
mostly still, lying upon their arms. The troops of his own army were
quiet also, and they, too, were lying down.
It suddenly occurred to Harry that no more fitting field for a great
and decisive battle could have been chosen. It was like a vast arena,
enclosed by the somber hills and the two Round Tops, on both of which
flew the flags of the Union signalmen.
Yet the day drew on. The two armies of nearly two hundred thousand men
merely sat and stared at each other. Noon passed and the afternoon
advanced. Harry yet wondered, as many another did. But it was not for
him to criticize. They were led by a man of genius, and the great mind
must be working, seeking the best way.
He and Dalton and some others lay down on the grass, while the heavy
silence still endured. Not a single cannon shot had been fired all that
day, and soon the sun would begin its decline from the zenith.
"I think I'll go to sleep," said Dalton.
"You couldn't if you tried," said Harry, "and you know it. If General
Lee is waiting, it's because he has good reasons for waiting, and you
know that, too."
"You're right in both instances, Harry. I could never shut my eyes on
a scene like this, and, late as it grows, there will yet be a battle
to-day. Weren't some orders sent along the line a little while ago?"
"Yes, the older men took 'em. What time is it, George?"
"Four o'clock." Then he closed his watch with a snap, and added:
"The battle has begun."
The heavy report of a cannon came from the Southern right under
Longstreet. It sped up the valleys and returned in sinister echoes.
It was succeeded by silence for a moment, and then the whole earth shook
beneath a mighty shock. All the batteries along the Southern line
opened, pouring a tremendous volume of fire upon the whole Northern
position.
The young officers leaped to their feet. A volcano had burst. The
Union batteries were replying, and the front of both armies blazed with
fire. The smoke hung high and Harry and Dalton could see in the valley
beneath it. They caught the gleam of bayonets and saw the troops of
Longstreet advancing in heavy masses to the assault of the slope where
the peach trees grew, now known as the Peach Orchard. Here stood
the New Yorkers who had been thrust forward under Sickles, a rough
politician, but brave and in many respects capable. There was some
confusion among them as they awaited the Confederates, Sickles, it is
charged, having gone too far in his zeal, and then endeavoring to fall
back when it was too late. But the men under him were firm. On this
field the two great states of New York and Pennsylvania, through the
number of troops they furnished for it, bore the brunt of the battle.
Harry and Dalton, crouched down in order that they might see better
under the smoke, watched the thrilling and terrible spectacle. The
Southern vanguard was made up of Texans, tall, strong, tanned men,
led by the impetuous Hood, and shouting the fierce Southern war cry they
rushed straight at the corps of Sickles. The artillery and rifle fire
swept through their ranks, but they did not falter. Many fell, but the
others rushed on, and Harry, although unconscious of it, began to shout
as he saw them cross a little stream and charge with all their might
against the enemy.
The combat was stubborn and furious. The men of Sickles redoubled
their efforts. At some points their line was driven in and the Texans
sought to take their artillery, but at others they held fast and even
threatened the Southern flank. They knew, too, that reinforcements were
promised to them and they encouraged one another by saying they were
already in sight.
Harry could not turn his eyes away from this struggle, much of which was
hidden in the smoke, and all of which was confused. The cannon of Hill
and Ewell were thundering elsewhere, but here was the crucial point.
The Round Tops rose on one side of the combatants. Round Top itself
seemed too lofty and steep for troops, but Little Round Top, accessible
to both men and cannon, would dominate the field, and he believed that
Hood, as soon as his men crushed Sickles, would whirl about and seize
it. But he could not yet tell whether fortune favored the Blue or the
Gray.
The generals from both sides watched the struggle with intense anxiety
and hurried forward fresh troops. Woods and rocks and slopes helped
the defense, but the attack was made with superior numbers. Longstreet
himself was directing the action and a part of Hill's men were coming
up to his aid. Sedgwick and Sykes, able generals, were rushing to
help Sickles. The whole combat was beginning to concentrate about the
furious struggle for the Peach Orchard and Little Round Top.
Hood, in all the height of the struggle, saw the value of Little Round
Top and tried his utmost to seize it. Again the Northern generals were
to show that they had learned how to see what should be done and to do
it at once. Little Round Top rose up, dominant over the whole field,
a prize of value beyond all computation. Just then it was the most
valuable hill in all the world.
A Northern general, Warren, the chief engineer of the army, had seen the
value of Little Round Top as quickly as Hood. The signalmen were about
to leave, but he made them stay. An entire brigade, hurrying to the
battle, was passing the slope, when Warren literally seized upon them by
force of command and rushed the men and their cannon to the crest.
Hood's soldiers were already climbing the slopes, when the fire of
the brigade, shell and bullets, struck almost in their faces. Harry,
watching through his glasses, saw them reel back and then go on again,
firing their own rifles as they climbed over the rocky sides of Little
Round Top. Again that fierce volley assailed them, crashing through
their ranks, and again they went on into the flame and the smoke.
Harry saw the battle raging around the crest of Little Round Top.
Then he uttered a cry of despair. The Southerners, with their ranks
thin--woefully thin--were falling back slowly and sullenly. They had
done all that soldiers could do, but the commanding towers of Little
Round Top remained in Union hands, and the Union generals were soon
crowding it with artillery that could sweep every point in the field
below.
But Sickles himself was not faring so well. His men, fighting for
every inch of ground about the Peach Orchard, were slowly driven back.
Sickles himself fell, a leg shattered, and walked on one leg for more
than fifty years afterwards. Hood, his immediate opponent, also fell,
losing an arm then and a leg later at Chickamauga, but Longstreet still
pushed the attack, and the Northern generals who had stood around
Sickles resisted with the stubbornness of men who meant to succeed or
die.
Early in the battle Harry had seen General Lee walk forward to a point
in the center of his line and sit down on a smooth stump. There he sat
a long time, apparently impassive. Harry sometimes took his eyes away
from the combat for the Peach Orchard and Little Round Top to watch his
commander-in-chief. But the general never showed emotion. Now and then
General Hill or his military secretary, General Long, came to him and
they would talk a little together, but they made no gestures. Lee would
rise when the generals came, but when they left he would resume his
place on the stump and watch the struggle through his glasses.
Throughout the whole battle of that day he sent a single order and
received but one message. He had given his orders before the advance,
and he left the rest to his lieutenants.
"I wish I could be as calm as he is," said Harry.
"I'll risk saying that he isn't calm inside," said Dalton. "How could
any man be at such a time?"
"You're right. Duck! Here comes a shell!"
But the shell fell short and exploded on the slope.
"Now listen, will you!" exclaimed Harry. "That's the spirit!"
Immediately after the shell burst a Southern band began to play.
And it played the merriest music, waltzes and polkas and all kinds of
dances. Harry felt his feet move to the tunes, while the battle below,
at its very height, roared and thundered.
But he promptly forgot the musicians as he watched the battle. He knew
that the Invincibles were somewhere in that volcano of fire and smoke,
and it was almost too much to hope that they would again come unhurt
out of such a furious conflict. But they, too, passed quickly from his
mind. The struggle would let nothing else remain there long.
He saw that the Union troops were still in the Peach Orchard and that
they were pouring a deadly fire also from Little Round Top. Hancock had
come to take the place of Sickles, and he was drawing every man he could
to his support. The afternoon was waning, but the battle was still at
its height. Men were falling by thousands, and generals, colonels,
majors, officers of all kinds were falling with them. The Southerners
had not encountered such resistance in any other great battle, and the
ground, moreover, was against them.
Yet the grim fighter, Longstreet, never ceased to push on his brigades.
The combat was now often face to face, and sharpshooters, hidden in
every angle and hollow of the earth, picked off men by hundreds.
The great rocky mass known as the Devil's Den was filled with Northern
sharpshooters and for a long time they stung the Southern flank terribly,
until a Southern battery, noticing whence the deadly stream of
bullets issued, sprayed it with grape and canister until most of the
sharpshooters were killed, while those who survived fled like wolves
from their lairs.
The day was now passing, but Harry could see no decrease in the fury of
the battle. Longstreet was still hurling his men forward, and they were
met with cannon and rifle and bayonet. The Confederate line now grew
more compact. The brigades were brought into closer touch, and,
gathering their strength anew, they rushed forward in a charge, heavier
and more desperate than any that had gone before. Generals and colonels
led them in person. Barksdale, young, but with snow-white hair, was
riding at the very front of the line, and he fell, dying, in the Union
ranks.
The Southern charge was stopped again on the left wing of the Union army,
and with the coming of the night the battle there sank, but elsewhere
the South was meeting with greater success. Ewell, making a renewed and
fierce attack at sunset, drove in the Northern right, and, seconded by
Early, took their defenses there. But the darkness was coming fast,
and although the firing went on for a long time, it ceased at last,
with the two enemies still face to face and the battle drawn.
Harry, who had expected to see a glorious victory won by the setting of
the sun, was deeply depressed. His youth did not keep him from seeing
that very little advantage had been won in that awful conflict of
the afternoon, and he saw also that the Army of the Potomac had been
fighting as if it had been improved by defeat. Nor had Lee thrown in
his whole force where it was needed most. If Jackson had only been
there! Harry pictured his swift flank movement, his lightning stroke,
and the crumpling up of the enemy. Jackson loomed larger than ever now
to his disappointed and excited mind.
Harry had been all day long and far into the night on Seminary Hill.
Often he had scarcely moved for an hour, and now, when the firing ceased
and he stood up and tried to peer into the valley of death, he found his
limbs so stiff for a minute or two that he could scarcely move. His
eyes ached and his throat was raw from smoke and the fumes of burned
gunpowder. But as he shook himself and stretched his muscles, he
regained firmness of both mind and body.
"We didn't win much," he said to Dalton.
"Not to-day, but we will to-morrow. Harry, wasn't it awful? It looks
to me down there like a pit of destruction."
And Dalton described it truly. The losses of the day before had been
doubled. Thirty thousand men on the two sides had now fallen, and there
was another day to come.
Harry saw that the generals themselves were assailed by doubts and
fears. He with other young staff officers witnessed the council of
Lee and his leading officers in the moonlight on Seminary Ridge. Some
spoke of retreat. A drawn battle in the enemy's country, and with an
inferiority of numbers, was for them equivalent to a defeat. Others
pointed out, however, that while their losses had been enormous, the
courage and spirit of the Army of Northern Virginia were unshaken.
Stuart with the cavalry, expected earlier, would certainly be up soon,
and, after all, the day had not been without its gains. Longstreet held
the Peach Orchard and Ewell was in the Union defenses on the flank of
Gettysburg.
But Lee thought most of the troops. These ragged veterans of his
who had been invincible asked to be led once more against the enemy.
A spirit so high as theirs could not be denied. His decision was given.
They would stay and smash the Union army on the morrow.
Harry heard of the decision. He had never doubted that it would be so.
They must surely win the next day with the addition of Pickett's men
and Stuart's cavalry. He wondered why Stuart had not come up already,
but he learned the next morning that a good reason had held him back.
The Union cavalry, always vigilant now, had intercepted Stuart in the
afternoon and had given him battle, just when the combat of the second
day had begun at Gettysburg. Gregg led the horsemen in blue and there
was another combat like that at Brandy Station, now about five thousand
sabres on a side. There was a long and desperate struggle in which
neither force could win, young Custer in particular showing uncommon
skill and courage for the North, while Wade Hampton performed prodigies
for the South. At last they drew off by mutual consent, Gregg into the
forest, while Stuart, with his reduced force, rode on in the night to
Lee. But Gregg in holding back Stuart had struck the Southern army a
great blow.
Harry and Dalton with nothing to do received permission to go among the
soldiers, and as they marked their spirits, their own rose. Then they
passed down toward the battlefield. Harry had some idea that they might
again find the Invincibles, as they had found them the night before,
but their time was too short. The Invincibles were somewhere in the
front, he learned, and, disappointed, he and Dalton turned back into the
valley.
The night was clear and bright, and they saw many men coming and going
from a cold spring under the shadow of the trees. Some of them were
wounded and limped painfully. Others carried away water in their hats
and caps for comrades too badly wounded to move. Harry observed that
some wore the blue, and some the gray. Both he and Dalton were assailed
by a burning thirst at the sight of the water, and they went to the
spring.
Here men who an hour or two ago had been striving their utmost to kill
one another were gathered together and spoke as friends. When one went
away another took his place. No thought of strife occurred to them,
although there would be plenty of it on the morrow. They even jested
and foes complimented foes on their courage. Harry and Dalton drank,
and paused a few moments to hear the talk.
The moon rode high, and it has looked down upon no more extraordinary
scene than this, the enemies drinking together in friendship at the
spring, and all about them the stony ramparts of the hills, bristling
with cannon, and covered with riflemen, ready for a red dawn, and the
fields and ridges on which thirty thousand had already fallen, dead or
wounded.
"Another meeting, Mr. Kenton," said a man who had been bent down
drinking. As he rose the moonlight shone full upon his face and Harry
was startled. And yet it was not strange that he should be there.
The face revealed to Harry was one of uncommon power. It seemed to him
that the features had grown more massive. The powerful chin and the
large, slightly curved nose showed indomitable spirit and resolution.
The face was tanned almost to blackness by all kinds of weather.
Harry would not have known him at first, had it not been for his voice.
"We do meet in unexpected places and at unexpected times, Mr. Shepard,"
he said.
"I'm not merely trying to be polite, when I tell you that I'm glad to
find you alive. You and I have seen battles, but never another like
this."
"And I can truthfully welcome you, Mr. Shepard, as an old acquaintance
and no real enemy."
It was an impulse but a noble one that made the two, different in years
and so unlike, shake hands with a firm and honest grip.
"Your army will come again in the morning," said Shepard, not as a
question, but as a statement of fact.
"Can you doubt it?"
"No, I don't, but to-morrow night, Mr. Kenton, you will recall what I
told you at our first meeting in Montgomery more than two years ago."
"You said that we could not win."
"And you cannot. It was never possible. Oh, I know that you've won
great victories against odds! You've done better than anybody could
have expected, but you had genius to help you, while we were led by
mediocrity in the saddle. But you have reached your zenith. Mark how
the Union veterans fought to-day. They're as brave and resolute as you
are, and we have the position and the men. You'll never get beyond
Gettysburg. Your invasion is over. Hereafter you fight always on the
defensive."
Harry was startled by his emphasis. The man spoke like an inspired
prophet of old. His eyes sparkled like coals of fire in the dark,
tanned face. The boy had never before seen him show so much emotion,
and his heart sank at the appalling prophecy. Then his courage came
back.
"You predict as you hope, Mr. Shepard," he said.
Shepard laughed a little, though not with mirth, and said:
"It is well that it should be settled here. There will be death on a
greater scale than any the war has yet seen, but it will have to come
sooner or later, and why not at Gettysburg? Good-bye, I go back to the
heights. May we both be alive to-morrow night to see which is right."
"The wish is mine, too," said Harry sincerely.
Shepard turned away and disappeared in the darkness. Harry rejoined
Dalton who was on the other side of the spring, and the two returned to
Seminary Ridge, where they walked among sleeping thousands. They found
their way to their comrades of the staff, and their physical powers
collapsing at last they fell on the ground where they soon sank into a
heavy sleep. The great silence came again. Sentinels walked back and
forth along the hostile lines, but they made no noise. There was little
moving of brigades or cannon now. The town itself became a town of
phantom houses in the moonlight, nearly all of them still and deserted.
On all the slopes of the hostile ridges lay the sleeping soldiers,
and on the rocks and fields between lay the dead in thousands. But from
the crest of Little Round Top, the precious hill so hardly won, the
Union officers watched all through the night, and, now and then, they
went through the batteries for which they were sure they were going to
have great use.
Harry and Dalton awoke at the same time. Another day, hot and burning,
had come, and the two armies once more looked across the valley at each
other. Harry soon heard the booming of cannon off to his right, where
Ewell's corps stood. It came from the Northern guns and for a long time
those of the South did not answer. But after a while Harry's practiced
ear detected the reply. The hostile wings facing each other were
engaged in a fierce battle. He saw the flash of the guns and the rising
smoke, but the center of the Army of Northern Virginia and the other
wing did not yet move. He looked questioningly at Dalton and Dalton
looked questioningly at him.
They expected every instant that the combat would spread along the
entire front, but it did not. For several hours they listened to the
thunder of the guns on the left, and then they knew by the movement of
the sound that the Southern wing had been driven back, not far it is
true, but still it had been compelled to yield, and again Harry's heart
sank.
But it rose once more when he concluded that Lee must be massing his
forces in the center. The left wing had been allowed to fight against
overwhelming numbers in order that the rest of the army might be left
free to strike a crushing blow.
Then noon came and the battle on their left died completely. Once more
the great silence held the field and Harry was mystified and awed.
Lee, as calm and impassive as ever, said little. The ridges confronted
one another, bristling with cannon but the armies were motionless.
The day was hotter than either of those that had gone before. The sun,
huge and red, poised in the heavens, shot down fiery rays in millions.
Harry gasped for breath, and when at last he spoke in the stillness his
voice sounded loud and harsh in his own ears.
"What does it mean, George?" he said.
"I don't know, but I think they are massing behind us for a charge."
"Not against the sixty or seventy thousand men and the scores of cannon
on those heights?"
"Maybe not yet. It's likely there will be a heavy artillery fire first.
Yes, I'm right! There go the guns!"
One cannon shot was followed by many others, and then for a while a
tremendous cannonade raged along the front of the armies, but it too
died, the smoke lifted, and then came the breathless, burning heat again.
The fire of the sun and of the battle entered Harry's brain. The valley,
the town, the hills, the armies, everthing swam in a red glare. The
great pulses leaped in his throat. He was anxious for them to go on,
and get it over. Why were the generals lingering when there was a
battle to be finished? Half the day was gone already and nothing was
decided.
Conscious that he was about to lose control of himself he clasped his
hands to his temples and pressed them tightly. At the same time he made
a mighty effort of the will. The millions of black specks that had been
dancing before his eyes went away. The solid earth ceased to quiver and
settled back into its place, careless of the armies that trampled over
it. Again he clearly saw through his glasses the long lines of men in
blue along the slopes and on the crest of Cemetery Hill. He marked, too,
there, at the highest point, a clump of trees waving their summer green
in the hot sunshine. Turning his glasses yet further he saw the massed
artillery on Little Round Top, and the gunners leaning on their guns.
A house, set on fire purposely or by shells, was burning brightly,
like some huge torch to light the way to death.
"You told me they were preparing for a charge," he said to Dalton.
"So they are, Harry. Pickett's men, who have not been here long,
are forming up in the rear, but their advance will be preceded by a
cannonade. You can see them wheeling guns into line."
Lee, with Hill and Longstreet, had recently ridden along the lines
followed by the older staff officers, and often shells and the bullets
of sharpshooters had struck about them, but they remained unhurt.
Now Lee stopped at one of his old points of observation. It was now
about one o'clock in the afternoon, and as the last gun took its
place the whole artillery of the Southern army opened with a fire so
tremendous that Harry felt the earth trembling, and he was compelled
to put his fingers in his ears lest he be deafened.
A storm of metal flew across the valley toward the Northern ranks,
but the guns there did not reply yet. The Union troops lay close behind
their intrenchments and mostly the storm beat itself to pieces on the
side of the hill. The smoke soon became so great that Harry could not
tell even with glasses what was going on in the enemy's ranks, but he
inferred from the fact that they were not yet replying that they were
not suffering much.
But in a quarter of an hour the tremendous cannonade was suddenly
doubled in volume. The Union guns were now answering. Two hundred
cannon facing one another across the valley were fighting the most
terrible artillery duel ever known in America. The air was filled with
shells, shot, grape, shrapnel, canister and every form of deadly missile.
Harry and Dalton sprang to cover, as some of the shells struck about
them, but they stood up again when they saw that Lee was talking calmly
with his generals.
The Southern fire was accurate. General Meade's headquarters were
riddled. Many important officers were wounded, but the Northern gunners,
superb always, never flinched from their guns. They fell fast, but
others took their places. Guns were dismounted but those in the reserve
were brought up instead.
The appalling tumult increased. The shells shrieked as they flew
through the air in hundreds, and shrapnel and grape whined incessantly.
Harry thought it in very truth the valley of destruction, and it was a
relief to him when he received an order to carry and could turn away for
a little while. He saw now in the rear the brigades of Pickett which
were forming up for the charge, about four thousand five hundred men who
had not yet been in the battle, while nearly ten thousand more, under
Trimble, Pettigrew and Wilcox, were ready to march on their flanks.
Pickett's men were lying on their arms patiently waiting. The time had
not quite come.
When Harry came back from his errand the cannonade was still at its
height. The roar was continuous, deafening, shaking the earth all
the time. A light wind blew the smoke back on the Southern position,
but it helped, concealing their batteries to a certain extent, while
those of the North remained uncovered.
The Northern army was now suffering terribly, although its infantry
stood unflinching under the fire. But the South was suffering too.
Guns were shattered, and the deadly rain of missiles carried destruction
into the waiting regiments. Harry saw Lee and Longstreet continually
under the Union fire. They visited the batteries and encouraged the
men. Showers of shells struck around them, but they went on unharmed.
Wherever Lee appeared the tremendous cheering could be heard amid the
roar of the guns.
Now the Southern artillerymen saw that their ammunition was diminishing
fast. Such a furious and rapid fire could not be carried on much longer,
and Lee sent the word to Pickett to charge. Harry stood by when the
men of Pickett arose--but not all of them. Some had been struck by the
shells as they lay on the ground and had died in silence, but their
comrades marched out in splendid array, and a vast shout arose from the
Southern army as they strove straight into the valley of death.
Harry shouted with the rest. He was wild with excitement. Every nerve
in him tingled, and once more the black specks danced before his eyes in
myriads. Peace or war! Right or wrong! He was always glad that he saw
Pickett's charge, the charge that dimmed all other charges in history,
the most magnificent proof of man's courage and ability to walk straight
into the jaws of death.
The dauntless Virginians marched out in even array, stepping steadily
as if they were on parade, instead of aiming straight at the center of
the Union army, where fifty thousand riflemen and a hundred guns were
awaiting them. Their generals and those of the supporting divisions
rode on their flanks or at their head. Besides Pickett, Garnett, Wilcox,
Armistead, Pettigrew and Trimble were there.
The Southern cannon were firing over the heads of the marching
Virginians, covering them with their fire, but the light breeze
strengthened a little, driving away the smoke. There they were in the
valley, visible to both friend and foe, marching on that long mile from
hill to hill. The Southern army shouted again, and it is true that,
at this moment, the Union ranks burst into a like cry of admiration,
at the sight of a foe so daring, men of their own race and country.
But Harry never took his eyes for a moment from Pickett's column.
He was using his glasses, and everything stood out strong and clear.
The sun was at the zenith, pouring down rays so fiery that the whole
field blazed in light. The nature of the ground caused the Virginians
to turn a little, in order to keep the line for the Union center,
but they preserved their even ranks, and marched on at a steady pace.
Harry began to shout again, but in an instant or two he saw a line
of fire pass along the Union front. Forty guns together opened upon
the charging column, and Hancock at the Union center, seeing and
understanding the danger, was heaping up men and cannon to meet it.
The shells began to crash into the ranks of the Virginians and the ten
thousand on their flanks. Men fell in hundreds and now the batteries
on Little Round Top added to the storm of fire. The clouds of smoke
gathered again, but the wind presently scattered them and Harry, waiting
in agony, saw Pickett's division marching straight ahead, never
faltering.
But he groaned when he saw that there was trouble on the flanks.
The men of Pettigrew, exhausted by the great efforts they had already
made in the battle, wavered and lost ground. Another division was
driven back by a heavy flank attack. Others were lost in the vast banks
of smoke that at times filled the valley. Only the Virginians kept
unbroken ranks and a straight course for the Union center.
Pickett paused a few moments at the burning house for the others to get
in touch with him, but they could not do so, and he marched on, with
Cemetery Hill now only two hundred yards away. The covering fire of the
Southern cannon had ceased long since. It would have been as dangerous
now to friend as to foe. Harry, watching through his glasses, uttered
another cry. Pickett and his men were marching alone at the hill.
Half of them it seemed to him were gone already, but the other half
never paused. The fire of a hundred guns had been poured upon them,
as they advanced that deadly mile, but with ranks still even they rushed
straight at their mark, the Union center.
Then Harry saw all the slopes and the crest of Cemetery Hill blaze with
fire. The Virginians were near enough for the rifles now, and the
bullets came in sheets. Harry saw it, and he groaned aloud. He no
longer had any hope for those brave men. The charge could not succeed!
Yet he saw them rush into the Union ranks and disappear. A group in
gray, still cleaving through the multitude, reappeared far up the slope,
and then burst, a little band of a few dozen men, into the very heart of
the Union center, the point to which they had been sent.
A battle raged for a few minutes under the clump of trees where Hancock
had stood directing. There Armistead, who had led them, his hat on the
point of his sword, fell dead among the Northern guns, and Cushing,
his brave foe who commanded the battery, died beside him. All the
others fell quickly or were taken. A few hundreds on the slopes cut
their way back through the Union army and reached their own. Pickett,
preserved by some miracle, was among them.
Harry gasped and threw down his glasses. Now he knew that the words
Shepard had spoken to him the night before at the spring were true.
The Southern invasion had been rolled back forever.
He looked at General Lee, who on foot had been watching the charge.
The impenetrable mask was gone for a moment, and his face expressed deep
emotion. Then the great soul reasserted itself and mounting his horse
went forward to meet the fugitives and encourage them. He rode back and
forth among them, and Harry heard him say once:
"All will come right in the end. We'll talk it over afterward, but
meanwhile every good man must rally. We want all good and true men just
now."
His manner was that of a father to his children, and, though they had
failed, the spontaneous cheers again burst forth wherever he passed.
The wounded as they were carried to the rear raised themselves up to see
him, and their cheers were added to the others.
Harry never forgot anything that he saw or heard then. Although the
battle, in effect, was over, the Northern artillery, roaring and
thundering triumphantly, was sending its shells across the valley and
upon Seminary Ridge. But he did not think anything of them, even when
they struck near him. It would be days before he could feel fear again.
He heard Lee say to an officer who rode up, and stated, between sobbing
breaths, that his whole brigade was destroyed:
"Never mind, General. All this has been my fault. It is I who have
lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way you can."
To another he said:
"This has been a sad day for us, a sad day. But we can't expect always
to gain victories."
Beholding such greatness of soul, Harry regained his own composure.
He rejoined Dalton, and soon they saw the Southern army reform its lines,
and turn a bristling front to the enemy. The Northern cannon were still
flashing and thundering, but the Northern army made no return attack.
Gettysburg, in all respects the greatest battle ever fought on the
American continent, was over, and fifty thousand men had fallen.
The sun set, and Harry at last sank on the ground overpowered. The
next day the two armies stood on their hills looking at each other, but
neither cared to renew the battle after such frightful losses. That
afternoon a fearful storm of thunder, lightning and rain burst over the
field. It seemed to Harry an echo of the real battle of the day before.
That night Lee, having gathered up his wounded, his guns and his wagons,
began his retreat toward the South. His army had lost, but it was still
in perfect order, willing, even anxious to fight again. The wagons
containing the wounded and the stores stretched for many miles, moving
along in the rain, and the cavalry rode on their flanks to protect them.
It was not until the next morning that Harry discovered anything of the
Invincibles. In the dawn he saw a covered wagon by the side of which
rode an officer, much neater in appearance than the others. He knew at
once that it was St. Clair and he galloped forward with a joyous shout.
"Arthur! Arthur!" he cried.
St. Clair turned a pale face that lighted up at the sight of his friend.
"Thank God, you're alive, Harry!" he said, as their hands clasped.
"Are you alone left?" asked Harry.
"Look into the wagon," he said.
Harry lifted a portion of the flap, and, looking in, saw Colonel
Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire sitting on
rolls of blankets facing each other. One had his right arm in a sling
and the other the left, but the chessmen rested on a board between them
and they were playing intently. They stopped a moment or two to give
Harry a glad welcome. Then he let the flap drop back.
"They began at daylight," said St. Clair.
"Where's Happy?"
"He's in the wagon, too. He's lying on some blankets behind them."
"Not hurt badly?"
"He was nipped in the shoulder, but it doesn't amount to anything.
What he wanted was sleep and he's getting it. He told me not to wake
him up again for a month."
"Well, Arthur, we lost."
"Yes, and I don't know just how it happened."
"But we're here, ready to fight them again whenever they come."
"So we are, Harry, and if they ever reach Richmond it will be many a
long day before they do it."
"I say so, too."
The great train toiled on through the mud, and the Army of Northern
Virginia continued its slow march southward.
Appendix: Transcription notes:
This etext was transcribed from a volume of the 15th printing
The following modifications were applied while transcribing the
printed book to e-text:
chapter 1
- page 3, para 4, added a missing open-quote
- page 8, para 3, deleted a misplaced comma
- page 13, Langdon and Dalton are having a conversation, but para 4
incorrectly stated "said St. Clair". It is clear that this should
be changed to "said Dalton", because Langdon replies to "George" in
his next sentence.
- page 20, para 7, the troop is specified here as "six hundred" men,
but is subsequently repeatedly specified as two hundred - changed
this reference from "six" to "two"
chapter 2
- page 25, para 8, Sherburne incorrectly called Harry "Dick" - changed
to "Harry"
- page 36, para 7, fixed typo "ghose"
chapter 3
- page 49, para 3, fixed typo "Jackkson"
- page 53, para 3, fixed typo "lud"
chapter 5
- page 105, para 3, Dalton incorrectly called Harry "Dick" - changed
to "Harry"
- page 109, para 6, changed "Its" to "It's"
- page 120, para 5, added a missing open-quote
- page 121, para 1, fixed typo ("plan" changed to "plain")
- page 121, para 1, fixed typo "cannister"
chapter 6
- page 143, para 5, changed an erroneous period to a comma
chaper 7
- page 153, para 3, changed "And" to "and"
- page 181, para 2, fixed typo "Longeais"
chapter 8
- page 189, para 1, added a missing close-quote
chapter 9
- page 259, para 3, changed "outgeneraled" to "outgeneralled"
(whether 'tis a word or not, the variant with double-"l" occurs 3
times in this book, the single-"l" variant only once)
chapter 10
- page 272, para 2, changed "fulness" to "fullness"
- page 273, para 1, fixed typo "marvellous"
- page 282, end of para 2, changed "division" to "divisions"
chapter 11
- page 295, para 3, fixed typo "dextrously"
chapter 13
- page 347, para 4, fixed typo "occurrred"
- page 351, para 4, fixed typo "wofully"
- page 358, para 9, added a missing close-quote
- page 359, para 1, changed "You" to "Your"
Modifications resulting from conversion to plain ASCII:
- chapter 1, page 12, the phrase "In forma pauperis" was presented
in italics in the printed book
- chapter 10, page 282, the name "Duffie" was presented in the
printed book with an accented "e"
I did not modify:
- There are instances where the use of the comma in the printed
book seems to me inappropriate. However, I have adhered to the
punctuation as printed (except for obvious printing errors,
which are noted above).
For example:
But Harry, having further leave of absence went forth and
answered many questions.
- Each section of verse is formatted to appear similar to its
presentation in the printed book. Consequently: some verse is
indented more than others, some is left-aligned, some is
staggered on the left margin, some is center-aligned.
- The author sometimes uses a technique whereby a paragraph introducing
a quotation ends with a colon, with the quotation following as the
next paragraph.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Star of Gettysburg, by Joseph A. Altsheler