Pennsylvania Campaign of July, 1863.
Culpeper and Snicker's Gap.
Fording the Potomac.
Shooting a Deserter.
Pennsylvania Invaded.
Chambersburg.
My Dream.
Willoughby Run.
Roll Call.
I am now about to record the things I saw in connection with the
greatest endeavor of the Army of Northern Virginia during the Civil
War, which led up to the Battle of Gettysburg, a campaign which
startled the North, alarmed the capital at Washington, and inspired
General Lee's army with new heroism and courage. We were going to
Pennsylvania in part to procure that for which Jacob's sons went down
into Egypt.
Monday, June 15, 1863, the head of the column moved out, directed
toward the Blue Ridge and Snicker's Gap, through which we passed June
20, crossing the Shenandoah River at Castleman's ferry, where we were
detained three or four days, and again at Berryville, for the purpose
of keeping in supporting distance of our cavalry operating against that
of the enemy east of the Ridge. The march from Culpeper was conducted
left in front, the enemy being on our right. The Confederate cavalry
had for several days been engaged with that of the enemy in the
vicinity of Aldie and Upperville. The army was followed by a large
drove of beef cattle, James B. Croy, of Company D, being detailed as
one of the drivers, thereby escaping the storm at Gettysburg.
The way for the march of the army through the Virginia valley had been
cleared by Ewell's corps, which had defeated and driven away the
Federal troops at Winchester and Martinsburg; while the Confederate
cavalry had cut and destroyed a portion of the Baltimore & Ohio
railroad west of Harper's Ferry, and Jenkins' Confederate cavalry
brigade had crossed the Potomac, entering Maryland and Pennsylvania.
The weather was hot and the march continued through Martinsburg by
Falling Waters, crossing the Potomac by wading to Williamsport, Md.,
going into camp a short distance out of the town. Here it was late in
the evening that a deserter from the 18th Virginia regiment was
executed by shooting.
The morale of the army was superb, officers and men alike inspired with
confidence in the ability of the army to beat its old antagonist
anywhere he chose to meet us. We were moving into the enemy's country
in fine spirit--no straggling, no desertion, no destruction of private
property, no outrages committed upon non-combatants, the orders of the
commanding general on this subject being strictly observed. Among the
men were expressions of disapproval of the invasion of the North. We
had uniformly insisted upon defensive warfare on our own soil; in other
words, we steadfastly contended against the claim of the enemy to
invade our own land, and logically we should be bound by the same
reasoning. However, in the last analysis every man in the army of
Northern Virginia was loyal to his commander-in-chief, wherever he
should lead. Here, indeed, was a spectacle: An army of more than sixty
thousand freemen, every man a soldier in the true sense of the word,
brave, resolute, fearless, the heroes and victors of many fields,
marching unobstructed and thus far unopposed through an enemy's
country, whose people had scarcely known that war was in progress;
living in quiet and plenty. The march was continued with steady tread
to Hagerstown, where a halt was made to allow Hill's corps, which had
crossed the river below, to pass. Again marching, the Cumberland Valley
in Pennsylvania was entered, a magnificent land, the counterpart of the
lovely valley of Virginia, the sight bringing homesickness to the heart
of not a few Virginia boys. Nothing was seen indicating that these
people knew that a terrible war had been raging for two years, only a
few miles away; certain it is they had felt little of its effect,
either upon their population or resources. At Greencastle was noted
among the people defiance and vindictive mien; while not speaking out,
their looks indicated that deep down in their bosoms was rancor and the
wish that all the rebel hosts were dead and corralled by the devil.
Saturday, June 27, Chambersburg, the capital--county town--of Franklin
County, was entered by our column; passing to the outskirts on the
north, or northwest side thereof, halting in the street in front of a
beautiful residence, said to be that of Colonel McClure. Some ladies
appeared and volunteered to deliver a sharp, spicy address, which was
responded to by the band of our regiment, with "Dixie." The boys sang
"Dixie" and "Bonnie Blue Flag," laughed and cheered lustily, then
marched on a few miles on the York road and went into camp.
Pickett's division was left at Chambersburg to guard the trains until
General Imboden's command could close up and relieve it, which it did
on the evening of July 1. While waiting to be relieved, the men of
Pickett's division were employed in tearing up the track of the
Cumberland Valley railroad, which was thoroughly done for a mile or
more, piling and firing the ties, heating the rails and bending them
around trees.
During the march from the Potomac to Chambersburg, I one night had a
dream in which I saw my left shoulder mangled by a cannon shot and I
lying on the battlefield bleeding, dying. This dream, not like many
not recollected, deeply impressed itself upon my mind, and I found
myself unable to throw it off. When three days later in the battle
at Gettysburg I was struck by an exploding shell on my left side, the
dream instantly came up, and I said, here now is its fulfillment. Other
soldiers, like myself, probably during and after the war dreamed of
being in battle, hearing distinctly the booming of cannon, the noise of
bursting shell and the rattle of musketry.
About 2 o'clock on Thursday morning, July 2, being aroused by the sound
of the long roll, we were quickly in line, the column moving on the
road leading to Gettysburg. The march was rapid, and unceasing, until
we reached the vicinity of the coming conflict at Gettysburg, a
distance of twenty-five miles or more over a dusty road, beneath a
burning July sun, passing on the way the smoldering ruins of Thad
Stevens' iron furnace, which had been fired by General J. A. Early a
few days before. The other divisions of our corps (Longstreet's) had
preceded us some twenty-four hours, arriving in time to make the
principal battle of the second day.
On the march over South Mountain, reaching the east side, passing
through the small hamlets of Cashtown and Seven Stars, plainly could be
heard the roar of Longstreet's battle of that evening. Near the middle
of the afternoon the division halted at Willoughby Run, two miles from
Gettysburg; the men soon scattered, some getting water, some eating and
some in conversation. As the shades of night began to gather on this
bright eve, being fatigued with the day's march, all retired early to
rest, little dreaming that upon such lovely eve, such awful morn should
rise. Brave, happy souls, little do you anticipate the horrors of the
next twenty-four hours! All was quiet during the night until reveille,
which was sounded before day, when we fell into ranks for roll call,
the last for so many gallant men, who on this eventful day were to pour
out their life's blood for freedom and the right, as God gave them to
see the right, and to go to that bourne from whence no traveler
returns.