Finishing Roll Call.
March to the Field.
Inspection of Arms.
Fearful Artillery Duel.
The Charge.
Killed and Wounded.
Army Retires.
Crosses the Potomac.
Proceeding with the roll call, the officers and men of Company D were:
Captain R. H. Bane, Lieutenants E. M. Stone, John W. Mullins and E. R.
Walker; non-commissioned, Sergeants T. S. Taylor, W. H. H. Snidow, the
writer; Corporals A. J. Thompson, Daniel Bish, George C. Mullins, J. B.
Young; Privates Akers, Barrett, Crawford, Darr, Fortner (J. H.),
Fortner (W. C.), Hight, Hurt (J. J.), Jones, Lewy (Jo), Meadows
(Anderson), Meadows (John), Minnich, Munsey, Peters, Sarver (D. L.),
Sublett, Stafford, Wilburn (G. L.) and Wilburn (W. I.). Total, 31,
being all of Company D present that I recall. I believe this to be
correct.
James B. Croy had been detailed to drive beef cattle; Alexander Bolton
belonged to the ambulance corps, and Charles A. Hale was company cook.
During the terrific artillery duel, which followed, Captain Bane and
Lieutenant Mullins were prostrated by heat, from which they did not
recover for some days. Lieutenant Stone had been assigned to the
command of Company E of the regiment, which had no commissioned officer
present. Lieutenant Walker was left in command of our company, and just
as the artillery duel was about closing, and but a few minutes before
the general advance began, I was knocked out of ranks by a bursting
shell, of which more later. The company therefore went into the charge
with but 28 men, counting Lieutenant Stone leading Company E, and
Young, color guard. The three brigades of Pickett's division present
were Garnett's, Kemper's and Armistead's, composed of fifteen Virginia
regiments, numbering in the aggregate that morning about 4,700 men,
which included the General's staff, and regimental officers, of which
there was the full complement; Colonel W. Tazewell Patton, commanding
the 7th Virginia regiment, being the only field officer of the regiment
then present. The division, from the major-general down, was composed
of Virginians, many of them mere boys, and the probability is that the
average age of the men in the ranks, including the line officers, did
not exceed 19 years. I had just passed my eighteenth birthday. In the
division were companies from the counties of Bedford, Campbell,
Franklin, Patrick, Henry, Floyd, Montgomery, Pulaski, Giles, Craig,
Mercer, Madison, Orange, Culpeper, Rappahannock, Greene, Albemarle,
Carroll, Appomattox, Pittsylvania, Prince Edward, Norfolk, Nansemond,
and others; and from the cities of Richmond, Lynchburg, Norfolk and
Portsmouth--volunteers all, many of them school boys who had entered
the service at the commencement of the war, and becoming fully inured
to the service.
Our brigade, commanded by the gallant and impetuous General James L.
Kemper, was in front during the morning's march, and as we formed
into battle line held the right, Garnett's brigade on the left,
Armistead's a little to the left and rear. The line was formed as
early as 7 o'clock A.M. Inspection of arms was had and everything
put in readiness for the engagement then imminent. We moved out of a
skirt of woods, went forward a short distance into a field, on which
was standing a crop of rye not yet harvested. Our position was now on
Seminary Ridge, four hundred yards or so back from the top, under the
crest; the line formed somewhat obliquely to the Emmitsburg road in
front of us, with the Confederate batteries on the crest four hundred
yards or more in front of us. Pickett's division was to lead the
assault, the wings supported on the right by Wilcox's brigade, Heth's
division under General Pettigrew, supported by the brigades of Scales
and Lane, under General Trimble, for the purpose of supporting the
left: all obstructions cleared away from the immediate front.
In the formation thus made, arms were stacked and we, with the
understanding that when two signal guns were fired, to take arms and
lie flat on the ground. All along the Confederate front was massed our
artillery, perhaps 75 or more guns. The Federal artillery, 220 guns,
along their whole front. The lines of the two armies, now held as by a
leash, were 1,430 yards from each other, the distance between the
opposing batteries an average of a little more than 1,000 yards. The
Federal guns exceeded ours in number and quality of metal.
Now the suspense was something awful. The men were grave and
thoughtful, but showed no signs of fear. The multitude awaiting
judgment could not be more seriously impressed with what was now about
to follow. However, a soldier in the field rarely thought his time to
die had exactly arrived--that is, it would be the other fellow's
time--and well it was so. Occasionally a man was met who had made up
his mind that the next battle would be his last. Men have been known to
have such presentiment and sure enough be killed in the next
engagement. Such was true of our gallant Colonel Patton, who yielded up
his promising young life in this battle.
The issue of the campaign and of the Civil War itself, as history
shows, was now trembling in the balance. Victory or defeat to either
side would be in effect a settlement of the issues involved; this the
officers and men seemed clearly to realize. Under such conditions all
were impatient of the restraint. To the brave soldier going into
battle, knowing he must go, the moments seem to lengthen. This feeling
is not born of his love for fighting, but it is rather the nervous
anxiety to determine the momentous issue as quickly as possible,
without stopping to count the cost, realizing if it must be done, "it
were well it were done quickly." Over-confidence pervaded the
Confederate army, from the commanding general down to the shakiest
private in the ranks. Too much over-confidence was the bane of our
battle. For more than six long hours the men were waiting, listening
for the sound of the signal guns. The stillness was at last broken: the
shot was fired: down, according to program, went the men on their
faces.
Now began the most terrible artillery duel that beyond question
ever took place on the American continent, or, the writer believes,
anywhere else. Never had a storm so dreadful burst upon mortal
man. The atmosphere was rent and broken by the rush and crash of
projectiles--solid shot, shrieking, bursting shells. The sun but
a few minutes before so brilliant was now darkened. Through this
smoky darkness came the missiles of death, plowing great furrows of
destruction among our men, whole columns going down like grass before
the scythe. The scene of carnage and death beggars description. Not
for the world would the writer look upon such a sight again. In any
direction might be seen guns, swords, haversacks, heads, limbs, flesh
and bones in confusion or dangling in the air or bounding on the earth.
The ground shook as if in the throes of an earthquake. The teamsters,
two or more miles away, declared that the sash in the windows of
buildings where they were shook and chattered as if shaken by a violent
wind. Over us, in front, behind, in our midst, through our ranks and
everywhere, came death-dealing missiles. I am reminded by this awful
scene, produced by this fearful artillery fire, of the remark made by
Colonel Stephen D. Lee, commanding Confederate artillery at Sharpsburg,
to one of his artillery officers after the battle: "Sharpsburg was
artillery hell." Be this as it may, the artillery fire at Sharpsburg
was not comparable to that of the third day at Gettysburg. During all
this nearly two hours of horror the men remained steadfast at their
posts--excepting those who had not been knocked out of place by shell
and shot.
It must not be supposed that men were not alarmed, for doubtless many a
poor fellow thought his time had come--and pray? Yes, great big,
stout-hearted men prayed, loudly, too, and they were in earnest, for if
men ever had need of the care and protection of our Heavenly Father, it
was now.
The position was a trying one, indeed; much more so than had we been
engaged in close combat, and quite as perilous, for then we should not
have felt so much the terrible strain, could we have rendered blow for
blow; but it was as if we were placed where we were for target practice
for the Union batteries. To the left of my position, and not thirty
feet away, eight men were killed or wounded by one shot, while still
nearer to me a solid shot trounced a man, lifting him three feet from
the earth, killing him but not striking him. Many of the shots causing
much damage were from enfilading fire from a Union battery at the
Cemetery.
I feel confident in stating that not less than 300 of Pickett's men
were killed or injured by artillery fire.
[Illustration: Corporal Jesse B. Young]
Near 2:50 P.M., as the artillery fire had practically ceased, there
came the order, "Fall in!" and brave General Pickett, coming close by
where I lay wounded, called out: "Up, men, and to your posts! Don't
forget today that you are from old Virginia!" The effect of this word
upon the men was electrical. The regiments were quickly in line,
closing to the left over the dead and wounded--the ranks now reduced
by the losses occasioned by the shelling to about 4,400 men of the
division, and I am satisfied that Kemper's brigade, the smallest of the
division, did not then number over 1,250. The advance now began, the
men calling out to the wounded and others: "Goodbye, boys! Goodbye!"
Unable to move, I could not accompany this advance--did not see, hear,
observe or know what thereafter happened only from the statement of
others. I will not attempt to state, but for a reasonable and fair
report thereof will give the published statement of an intelligent
Union soldier (a Massachusetts man) who observed the movement of
Pickett's division, which is as follows:
"But what is Gettysburg, either in its first day's Federal defeat,
or its second day's terrible slaughter around Little Round Top,
without the third day's immortal charge by Pickett and his brave
Virginians! * * * Then Pickett and his brave legions stood up
and formed for the death struggle: three remnants of brigades,
consisting of Garnett's--the 8th, 18th, 19th, 28th and 56th
Virginia; Armistead's brigade--the 9th, 14th, 38th, 53d, 57th
Virginia; Kemper's brigade--1st, 3d, 7th, 11th, 24th Virginia.
Their tattered flags bore the scars of a score of battles, and
from their ranks the merciless bullet had already taken two-thirds
their number. In compact ranks: their front scarcely covering
two of Hancock's brigades, with flags waiving as if for a gala
day. * * * It was nearly a mile to the Union lines, and as they
advanced over the open plain the Federal artillery opened again,
plowing great lanes through their solid ranks, but they closed
up to guide center, as if upon dress parade. When half way over,
Pickett halted his division amidst a terrible fire of shot and
shell, and changed his direction by an oblique movement, coolly
and beautifully made. * * * To those who have ever faced artillery
fire it is marvellous and unexplainable how human beings could have
advanced under the terrific fire of a hundred cannon, every inch
of air being laden with the missiles of death; but in splendid
formation they still came bravely on till within range of the
musketry; then the blue line of Hancock's corps arose and poured
into their ranks a murderous fire. With a wild yell the rebels
pushed on, unfalteringly, crossed the Federal lines and laid hands
upon eleven cannon.
"Men fired into each other's faces; there were bayonet thrusts,
cutting with sabres, hand-to-hand contests, oaths, curses, yells
and hurrahs. The Second corps fell back behind the guns to allow
the use of grape and double cannister, and as it tore through the
rebel ranks at only a few paces distant, the dead and wounded were
piled in ghastly heaps; still on they came up to the very muzzles
of their guns; they were blown away from the cannon's mouth, but
yet they did not waiver. Pickett had taken the key to the position,
and the glad shout of victory was heard, as, the very impersonation
of a soldier, he still forced his troops to the crest of Cemetery
Ridge. Kemper and Armistead broke through Hancock's line, scaled
the hill and planted their flags on its crest. Just before
Armistead was shot, he placed his flag upon a captured cannon and
cried: 'Give them the cold steel, boys!' But valor could do no
more, the handful of braves had won immortality, but could not
conquer an army. * * * Pickett, seeing his supports gone, his
Generals Kemper, Armistead and Garnett killed or wounded, every
field officer of three brigades gone, three-fourths of his men
killed or captured, himself untouched, but broken-hearted, gave
the order for retreat, but, band of heroes as they were, they fled
not; but amidst that still continuous, terrible fire, they slowly,
sullenly, recrossed the plain--all that was left of them, but few
of five thousand."
Pickett's division was the only organized body of Confederates that
crossed the stone fence. In a letter of General Kemper to me he gives a
short description, and but brief, of this wonderful charge, in which he
states: "I think General Garnett and myself were the only officers of
Pickett's division who went into the battle mounted and remained
mounted until shot down. My recollection is that I fell just about the
time our men began to give back. I was close enough to the enemy to
distinguish features and expressions of faces, and thought I observed
and could identify the individual who shot me. Quickly afterwards a
Federal officer, with several of his men, took possession of me,
placing me on a blanket, started to carry me, as he said, to a Federal
surgeon, when some of our men, firing over my body, recaptured me and
carried me to our rear.
"As to how the three brigades of our division advanced in line of
battle when the artillery ceased firing; as to how the gaps were
closed up as men fell and the general alignment was well preserved;
as to the cul-de-sac of death, our unsupported, or very badly supported
division was hurled into; as to the last unavailing grapple with the
overwhelming numbers of the enemy: all these are matters about which
you doubtless know as much as I do."
As already stated, it was 1,430 yards from our position to that
occupied by the Union infantry; it was practically open field. It was
the longest charge in open ground under heavy fire that our troops were
ever required to make. Indeed, this was the most remarkable charge made
in the annals of warfare.
The Union army, under General Burnside, at the Battle of Fredericksburg
against Marye's Hill, made as many as fourteen distinct charges as
brave and gallant as were ever made by any soldiers, at some points
leaving their dead within a few yards of the Confederate lines, but
each time repulsed with heavy loss, but the fact must not be overlooked
that these charging columns had fairly good cover to within four
hundred yards of the Confederate line.
Had the Confederate assaulting column had a shorter run with protected
cover, it is almost certain that the Union lines would have been
broken, the Federal army cut in twain, forced to rapid retreat to avoid
capture or destruction. Again, it is manifest that had the Federal army
been in the open on the third day as on the first and for most part on
the second day, General Meade's Union army would have been crushed. As
it was, in a well-protected position, and the battle well conducted by
General Meade, he barely escaped defeat--too badly crippled to promptly
pursue the Confederates.
General Meade was a good soldier, and the Union army of the Potomac
made a splendid fight. No doubt General Meade and the Army of the
Potomac were proud of their achievement at Gettysburg, for they had
been hammered so much and so often by the Army of Northern Virginia
that they doubtless expected the same old bill of fare. A little relief
was comforting; the other fellows were now sore, for Gettysburg battle
was a sad and gloomy one for the Army of Northern Virginia and the
Confederacy, but the survivors had not lost their old-time spirit; they
soon recuperated, and were themselves again ready for the fray.
In the battles from the Rapidan to the James in the Spring and Summer
of 1864, the soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia showed that they
had not lost their old-time spirit, pluck, and fighting qualities, and
if the more than twenty thousand men lost by General Lee at Gettysburg
had been with him in the Wilderness, in the Spring of 1864, General
Grant would not have reached the James by that route. At Gettysburg
General Meade had about 105,000 men; General Lee about 62,000. These
figures are given by Colonel Taylor, a member of General Lee's staff,
and adjutant-general of the army, taken, as he states, from the
official records. General Meade himself states his strength not less
than 95,000 men. The Federal loss was 23,049; Confederate, 20,451.
The loss in Pickett's division was 2,888; in Kemper's brigade, 58
killed, 356 wounded and 317 captured. In the 7th Virginia regiment the
loss was 67. In Company D, David C. Akers, Daniel Bish, Jesse Barrett
and John P. Sublett were killed; Lieutenant E. R. Walker and E. M.
Stone, Sergeant Taylor and myself, Corporal Young, Privates William C.
Fortner, James H. Fortner, J. J. Hurt, John F. Jones (leg amputated),
John Meadows, W. W. Muncey and D. L. Sarver, wounded, and John W. Hight
captured; total 17--over sixty per cent of the number led into action.
By this statement it will be seen that my Company D came out of the
Battle of Gettysburg with but 11 men. J. B. Young belonged to the color
guard of the 7th regiment. The color bearer, Lieutenant Watson, with
his guards, eight sergeants and corporals going into the battle were
all either killed or wounded. Our colors fell into the hands of the 82d
New York infantry, commanded by Captain John Darrow. Corporal Young was
the eighth man who had the colors during the fight, carrying them
within a few feet of the enemy's line behind the stone fence, where he
was wounded and captured. The colors were then taken by ---- Tolbert, a
mere boy of ours, who bore them forward to the stone fence, where he
intended to plant them, but was shot in the head. The colors were then
grabbed by the man who fired the shot and carried back into the Union
lines.
The loss in officers in Pickett's division was something fearful to
contemplate. General Garnett was killed, Armistead mortally and Kemper
dangerously wounded. Of the whole complement of generals and field
officers, aggregating about 48, only one lieutenant-colonel was left.
The division was nearly annihilated. General Kemper fell into the
enemy's hands in field hospital the second day after he was wounded. So
bad was his wound, and he was believed to be so near death, that a
coffin was prepared for him, which he refused to use. He survived, and
afterwards became Governor of Virginia, serving with distinction and
much honor from his countrymen. During his gubernatorial term he
carried in his hip a leaden bullet of standard weight and size.
Of the wounded in Company D, Lieutenant Stone, Corporal Young, Privates
William C. Fortner, James H. Fortner, Jones, Hurt and the writer fell
into the hands of the enemy; Stone, Young, William C. Fortner, Jones
and Hurt on the field; James H. Fortner and the writer the second day
thereafter in the field hospital. Several of the men of Company D in
the charge went over the stone wall, only a few getting back, among
them Sergeant Taylor, and he wounded. Thomas N. Mustain, a valiant
soldier, transferred from Company D to the 57th Virginia regiment, went
over the stone wall, and while lying under the captured Union batteries
was severely wounded in the neck.
Company E of the 7th regiment had four men--Alec Legg, John Canady,
Willis Welch and Joseph Welch--killed during the artillery duel by the
explosion of a shell. The company carried into the charge but one
officer, Lieutenant Stone, and seventeen men, all of whom except one
man were killed, wounded or captured.
Recurring to the wounding of myself at the closing of the artillery
duel, I was at my post on the left of the regiment, which threw me
under the shade of a friendly apple tree which chanced to stand there.
I lay down near Colonel Mayo, of the 3d regiment, and Colonel Patton of
the 7th, near the feet of the latter. A little before the artillery
fire ceased, a Union battery at the Cemetery on our left front had on
us an enfilading fire with accurate range, which threw shell and solid
shot into our ranks. A shell from this battery struck the heads of two
men of the 3d regiment, taking them off above the ears, exploding
almost on me, not only killing the two men and wounding me, but also
wounding Lieutenant Brown of the 7th regiment, and another, who lay
close on my right. Just a moment before this shell came, I had raised
my head up to get, if possible, a breath of fresh air, whereupon
Lieutenant Brown said to me: "You had better put your head down or you
may get it knocked off." I replied: "A man had about as well die that
way as to suffocate for want of air." The words had scarcely escaped my
lips when the shell exploded, which for a few moments deprived me of my
breath and sensibility; I found myself lying off from the position I
was in when struck, gasping for breath. My ribs on left side were
broken, some fractured, left lung badly contused, and left limbs and
side paralyzed. My Colonel Patton, sprang to his feet inquiring if I
was badly hurt. I asked for water, the first thing a wounded man wants,
and the Colonel had it brought to me. The marvel is that I escaped the
explosion of that shell without being torn to shreds. Harry Snidow and
another of my old company brought a blanket, placing it at the base of
the apple tree, where they set me up against the tree. Just then the
order came for the men to fall in for the charge, which has already
been described. Colonel Mayo, after the war, describing this day's
battle and the part taken by our division, refers to me as "one left
for dead under that apple tree." I still live, while the brave and good
Colonel has passed to the Great Beyond.
In a few minutes after the men moved forward, the "litter bearers"
picked me up and bore me back into the woods to our field hospital,
where our surgeons, Drs. Oliver and Worthington, did for me all in
their power. About dark I was removed by ambulance to the shed of a
farmer's barn, a mile or more away, on Willoughby Run, to the place
where General Kemper had been removed, the farmer placing him in his
dwelling house. I visited this same house twenty-two years later, where
I saw distinctly the stains of General Kemper's blood on the floor.
The shed in which I was placed was filled with the wounded and dying.
Throughout that long night and until a little before dawn, I spoke to
no one, and no one to me, never closed my eyes in sleep; the surgeons
close by being engaged in removing the limbs of those necessary to be
amputated, and all night long I heard nothing but the cries of the
wounded and the groans of the dying, the agonies of General Kemper, who
lay near by, being frequently heard. Everything in the barn was dark,
but near dawn I discovered a flickering light advancing toward me: it
was borne by John W. Grubb, of our regiment, who had been sent by our
surgeon to look after me. Comrade Grubb was very kind to me, preparing
for me a day or two later a bed and shelter in the orchard, to which I
was removed, but he was taken away a prisoner by the Federals.
During the morning of Sunday many of our wounded men were brought in,
among them Captain John H. Parr, adjutant of the 7th regiment, and
Lieutenant Lewis Bane of the 24th regiment. Some of these wounded men
died during the day.
During Sunday night and the following day the Confederate army was
withdrawing from the field. Our brigade surgeon, Dr. Morton, and
General Early made visits to the field hospital, urging all the men
able to ride in wagons to go, of which a goodly number availed
themselves. Shortly after the Confederate rear guard had passed the
field hospital where I was, the Federal advance guard appeared, the
Federal surgeons taking charge of us.
Lee's army continued the retreat into Virginia, and I did not join my
command for service for four months after, at Taylorsville.