ON THE WAY TO GETTYSBURG--BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG--RETREAT
Before proceeding farther let us consider briefly the condition of the
two armies, and which had the better grounds to hope for success in the
great conflict now impending. With the exception of one--Sharpsburg--which
was a drawn battle, the Confederates had been victorious in every general
engagement up to this time. Scant rations, deprivation, and hardships of
every kind had made them tired of the war; and the recent abundance had
not only put them in better fighting condition than ever before, but made
them long to enjoy it permanently at home.
The Federal army had changed commanders after every defeat, and the
present one--General Meade--who had just been appointed, was not an
officer to inspire special confidence. With all this in favor of the
Southerners, all else seemed to conspire against them. On the morning of
June 30, the day before the battle, Pickett's division was at
Chambersburg, thirty miles from Gettysburg; Hood's and McLaw's (the
other two divisions of Longstreet's corps) fifteen miles nearer
Gettysburg; Hill's corps at Cashtown, nine miles from Gettysburg;
Rodes's division of Ewell's corps at Carlisle, thirty miles distant;
Johnson's at Greenville, and Early's near York. General Early levied for
and obtained from the city of York several thousand pairs of shoes and
socks and a less number of hats for his men, and $26,000 in money.
The different portions of the Federal army at this time were spread out
over a large area, south and east of Gettysburg. To the absence of our
cavalry, whose whereabouts since crossing the Potomac had not even been
known by General Lee, was due the ignorance as to the location of the
Federals, causing loss of time and the employment of other troops to do
what the cavalry should have done. It is generally conceded that until
they found themselves face to face the commander of neither army
expected or desired this locality to be the battleground. And when we
consider the fact that armies have been known to maneuver for weeks for
a vantage ground on which to give battle, we can realize the importance
of this seeming accident, which sealed the doom of the Confederacy. For
if the whole State of Pennsylvania had been gone over, it is probable
that no other place could have been found which afforded such advantages
as did this to the Northern army.
Early's division had passed it several days before on his way to York,
and Pettigrew's brigade of Hill's corps on July 1, while approaching in
search of shoes for his men, encountered Buford's Federal cavalry,
precipitating the first day's conflict, in which Hill's corps, Rodes's
and Early's divisions captured 5,000 prisoners and drove the Federals
through the town to the heights beyond. Our battalion of artillery, soon
after dark, passed southward through the outskirts of the town with
Early's division and bivouacked for the night. By dawn of the following
day (July 2) sufficient of the Federal army had arrived to occupy and
fortify the heights. From where our battery was posted, a mile east of
the town, we had in full view the end of Cemetery Hill, with an arched
gateway for an entrance. To the left of it and joined by a depressed
ridge was Culp's Hill, steep and rugged as a mountain, all now held and
fortified by the enemy. Jackson's old division, now commanded by Gen.
Ed. Johnson, having arrived late in the night, formed at the base of
Culp's Hill, and before an hour of daylight had elapsed had stirred up a
hornets' nest in their front.
I must mention an incident that occurred during this forenoon quite
interesting to myself. As we were standing by our guns, not yet having
fired a shot, General Ewell and his staff came riding by, and
Lieut.-Col. Sandy Pendleton, his adjutant, rode out from among them and
handed me two letters. To receive two letters in the army at any time
was an event, but here, away in the enemy's country, in the face of
their frowning guns, for them to have come so far and then be delivered
at the hands of the General and his staff was quite something. One of
the letters I recognized as being from my mother, the other aroused my
curiosity. The envelope, directed in a feminine hand, was very neat, but
the end had been burned off and the contents were held in place by a
narrow red ribbon daintily tied. In so conspicuous a place, with a
battle on, I could not trust myself to open my treasures. It was near
night before a suitable time came, and my billet-doux contained the
following:
_You are cordially invited to be present at the Commencement
Exercises of the ----Female Seminary, on the evening of July 3d,
1863, at eight o'clock_ P. M. _Compliments of Gertrude ----._
My feelings were inexpressible. How I longed to be there! To think of
such a place of quiet and peace as compared with my surroundings on this
bloody battlefield!
But to return to the serious features of the day. With the exception of
the steady musketry firing by Johnson's men on Culp's Hill, the day
passed quietly until nearly four o'clock. At this time Andrews's
battalion of artillery, led by Major Latimer, passed in front of us and
went into position two hundred yards to our left, and nearer the enemy.
The ground sloped so as to give us a perfect view of his four
batteries. Promptly other batteries joined those confronting us on
Cemetery Hill, and by the time Latimer's guns were unlimbered the guns
on both sides were thundering.
In less than five minutes one of Latimer's caissons was exploded, which
called forth a lusty cheer from the enemy. In five minutes more a
Federal caisson was blown up, which brought forth a louder cheer from
us. In this action Latimer's batteries suffered fearfully, the Alleghany
Roughs alone losing twenty-seven men killed and wounded. Only one or two
were wounded in our battery, the proximity of Latimer's guns drawing the
fire to them. Near the close of the engagement, Latimer, who was a
graduate of the Virginia Military Institute, a mere youth in appearance,
was killed.
The artillery contest was a small part of the afternoon's work. One of
Johnson's brigades, after capturing breastworks and prisoners on Culp's
Hill, pushed nearly to General Meade's headquarters. Rodes, usually so
prompt, was occupying the town and failed to attack till late, and then
with but two of his four brigades; but they charged over three lines of
breastworks and captured several pieces of artillery, which had to be
abandoned for want of support. Sickles's corps, having occupied the two
"Round Tops" on the extreme left of the Federal line, advanced on
Longstreet, and at four P. M. the two lines met in the celebrated "Peach
Orchard," and from that time until night fought furiously, the Federals
being driven back to their original ground.
At the close of the second day the Confederates had gained ground on the
right and left, and captured some artillery, but still nothing decisive.
Another night passed, and the third and last day dawned on two anxious
armies. Pickett, after a mysterious delay of twenty-four hours, arrived
during the forenoon and became the left of Longstreet's corps. At twelve
o'clock word was passed along our lines that when two signal-guns were
heard, followed by heavy firing, to open vigorously with our guns. There
was no mistaking when that time came, and we joined with the three
hundred guns that made the firing. For an hour or more a crash and roar
of artillery continued that rolled and reverberated above, and made the
earth under us tremble. When it began there was great commotion among
the enemy's batteries in our front, some of which limbered up and
galloped along the crest of Cemetery Hill, but soon returned and renewed
their fire on us.
So far they had failed to do our battery any serious harm, but now each
volley of their shells came closer and closer. At this time my attention
was attracted to the second piece, a few paces to our left, and I saw a
shell plow into the ground under Lieutenant Brown's feet and explode. It
tore a large hole, into which Brown sank, enveloped as he fell in smoke
and dust. In an instant another shell burst at the trail of my gun,
tearing the front half of Tom Williamson's shoe off, and wounding him
sorely. A piece of it also broke James Ford's leg, besides cutting off
the fore leg of Captain Graham's horse. Ford was holding the lead-horses
of the limber, and, as they wheeled to run, their bridles were seized by
Rader, a shell struck the horse nearest to him, and, exploding at the
instant, killed all four of the lead-horses and stunned Rader. These
same horses and this driver had very nearly a similar experience (though
not so fatal) at Sharpsburg a year before, as already described. Sam
Wilson, another member of our detachment, was also painfully wounded and
knocked down by the same shell.
This artillery bombardment was the prelude to Pickett's charge, which
took place on the opposite side of Cemetery Hill, and out of our view.
Culp's Hill, since the early morning previous, had been enveloped in a
veil of smoke from Johnson's muskets, which had scarcely had time to
cool during the thirty-six hours.
The men of the Fourth Virginia Regiment had been gradually and steadily
advancing from boulder to boulder, until they were almost under the
enemy's fortifications along the crest of the ridge. To proceed farther
was physically impossible, to retreat was almost certain death. So, of
the College company alone, one of whom had already been killed and many
wounded, sixteen, including Captain Strickler, were captured. To John
McKee, of this company, a stalwart Irish Federal said as he reached out
to pull him up over the breastworks, "Gim-me your hand, Johnny Reb;
you've give' us the bulliest fight of the war!"
Lieutenant "Cush" Jones determined to run the gauntlet for escape, and
as he darted away the point of his scabbard struck a stone, and throwing
it inverted above his head, lost out his handsome sword. Three bullets
passed through his clothing in his flight, and the boulder behind which
he next took refuge was peppered by others. Here, also, my former
messmate, George Bedinger, now captain of a company in the Thirty-third
Virginia Regiment, was killed, leading his "Greeks," as he called his
men.
About nine o'clock that evening, and before we had moved from our
position, I received a message, through Captain Graham, from some of the
wounded of our company, to go to them at their field-hospital. Following
the messenger, I found them in charge of our surgeon, Dr. Herndon,
occupying a neat brick cottage a mile in the rear, from which the owners
had fled, leaving a well-stocked larder, and from it we refreshed
ourselves most gratefully. Toward midnight orders came to move. The
ambulances were driven to the door and, after the wounded, some eight or
ten in number, had been assisted into them, I added from the stores in
the house a bucket of lard, a crock of butter, a jar of apple-butter, a
ham, a middling of bacon, and a side of sole-leather. All for the
wounded!
Feeling assured that we would not tarry much longer in Pennsylvania, and
expecting to reach the battery before my services would be needed, I
set out with the ambulances. We moved on until daylight and joined the
wounded of the other batteries of our battalion, and soon after left, at
a house by the wayside, a member of the Richmond Howitzers who was
dying. Our course was along a by-road in the direction of Hagerstown. In
the afternoon, after joining the wagon-train, I found "Joe," the colored
cook of my mess, in possession of a supernumerary battery-horse, which I
appropriated and mounted. Our column now consisted of ambulances loaded
with wounded men, wounded men on foot, cows, bulls, quartermasters,
portable forges, surgeons, cooks, and camp-followers in general, all
plodding gloomily along through the falling rain.
We arrived at the base of the mountain about five P. M. and began
ascending by a narrow road, leading obliquely to the left. Before
proceeding farther some description of the horse I was riding is
appropriate, as he proved an important factor in my experiences before
the night was over. He was the tallest horse I ever saw outside of a
show, with a very short back and exceedingly long legs, which he handled
peculiarly, going several gaits at one time. Many a cannoneer had sought
rest on his back on the march, but none had ventured on so high a perch
when going into battle. When half-way up the mountain we heard to our
left oblique the distant mutter of a cannon, then in a few moments the
sound was repeated, but we thought it was safely out of our course and
felt correspondingly comfortable. At intervals the report of that gun
was heard again and again. About dusk we reached the top of the
mountain, after many, many halts, and the sound of that cannon became
more emphatic.
After descending a few hundred yards there came from a bridle-path on
our left, just as I passed it, three cavalry horses with empty saddles.
This was rather ominous. The halts in the mixed column were now
frequent, darkness having set in, and we had but little to say. That
cannon had moved more to our front, and our road bore still more to
where it was thundering. We were now almost at the foot of the mountain,
and to the left, nearer our front, were scattering musket-shots. Our
halts were still short and frequent, and in the deep shadow of the
mountain it was pitch-dark. All of this time I had not a particle of
confidence in my horse. I could not tell what was before me in the dense
darkness, whether friend or foe, but suddenly, after pausing an instant,
he dashed forward. For fifty or seventy-five yards every other sound was
drowned by a roaring waterfall on my right; then, emerging from its
noise, I was carried at a fearful rate close by dismounted men who were
firing from behind trees along the roadside, the flashes of their guns,
"whose speedy gleams the darkness swallowed," revealing me on my tall
horse with his head up. He must see safety ahead, and I let him fly.
A hundred yards farther on our road joined the main pike at an acute
angle, and entering it he swept on. Then, just behind me, a Federal
cannon was discharged. The charge of canister tore through the brush on
either side, and over and under me, and at the same instant my steed's
hind leg gave way, and my heart sank with it. If struck at all, he
immediately rallied and outran himself as well as his competitors. After
getting out of the range of the firing and the shadow of the mountain, I
saw indistinctly our cavalrymen along the side of the road, and we
bantered each other as I passed.
Farther on, at a toll-gate, I heard the voice of Tom Williamson. His
ambulance had broken down and he was being assisted toward the house. I
drew rein, but thought, "How can I help him? This horse must be
well-nigh done for," and rode on. Since reaching the foot of the
mountain the way had been open and everything on it moving for life. But
again the road was full, and approaching clatter, with the sharp reports
of pistols, brought on another rush, and away we went--wagons, wounded
men, negroes, forges, ambulances, cavalry--everything.
This in time subsided and, feeling ashamed, I turned back to look after
my wounded, my horse as reluctant as myself, and expecting every moment
the sound of the coming foe. A sudden snort and the timid step of my
nervous steed warned me of breakers ahead. Peering through the darkness
I saw coming toward me, noiseless and swift as the wind, an object
white as the driven snow. "What," I asked myself, "are ghosts abroad,
and in such a place? Is Gettysburg giving up her dead so soon?" But, as
the thing met me, a voice cried out, "Is that you, Ned? Is that you?
Take me on your horse. Let me get in the saddle and you behind." For a
moment I was dumb, and wished it wasn't I. The voice was the voice of
Lieutenant Brown, the same whom I had seen undermined by the shell at
Gettysburg, and who had not put a foot to the ground until now.
Barefooted, bareheaded; nothing on but drawers and shirt--white as a
shroud! The prospect that now confronted me instantly flashed through my
mind. First, "Can this horse carry two?" Then I pictured myself with
such a looking object in my embrace, and with nothing with which to
conceal him. There were settlements ahead, daylight was approaching, and
what a figure we would cut! It was too much for me, and I said, "No, get
on behind," feeling that the specter might retard the pursuing foe. But
my tall horse solved the difficulty. Withdrawing my foot from the
stirrup, Brown would put his in and try to climb up, when suddenly the
horse would "swap ends," and down he'd go. Again he would try and almost
make it, and the horse not wheeling quickly enough I would give him the
hint with my "off" heel. My relief can be imagined when an ambulance
arrived and took Brown in. I accompanied him for a short distance, then
quickened my pace and overtook the train. Presently another clatter
behind and the popping of pistols. Riding at my side was a horseman,
and by the flash of his pistol I saw it pointing to the ground at our
horses' feet.
Reaching the foot of a hill, my horse stumbled and fell as if to rise no
more. I expected to be instantly trampled out of sight. I heard a groan,
but not where the horse's head should have been. Resting my feet on the
ground, thus relieving him of my weight, he got his head from under him
and floundered forward, then to his feet and away. Farther on, a swift
horse without a rider was dashing by me. I seized what I supposed to be
his bridle-rein, but it proved to be the strap on the saddle-bow, and
the pull I gave came near unhorsing me.
The pursuit continued no farther. Not having slept for two days and
nights, I could not keep awake, and my game old horse, now wearied out,
would stagger heedlessly against the wheels of moving wagons. Just at
dawn of day, in company with a few horsemen of our battalion, I rode
through the quiet streets of Hagerstown, thence seven miles to
Williamsport.
The wounded of our battalion had all been captured. A few, however, were
not carried off, but left until our army came up. Some of the cooks,
etc., escaped by dodging into the brush, but many a good horse and rider
had been run down and taken. At Williamsport I exchanged horses with an
infantryman while he was lying asleep on a porch, and had completed the
transaction before he was sufficiently awake to remonstrate.
We were now entirely cut off from our army, and with what of the wagons,
etc., that remained were at the mercy of the enemy, as the Potomac was
swollen to a depth of twenty feet where I had waded a year before. Most
of the horses had to be _swum over_, as there was little room in the
ferry-boats for them. The river was so high that this was very
dangerous, and only expert swimmers dared to undertake it. Twenty
dollars was paid for swimming a horse over, and I saw numbers swept down
by the current and landed hundreds of yards below, many on the side from
which they had started. I crossed in a ferry-boat on my recently
acquired horse, having left my faithful old charger, his head encased in
mud to the tips of his ears, with mingled feelings of sadness and
gratitude.
A great curiosity to understand this battle and battlefield induced me
to visit it at the first opportunity, and in 1887, twenty-four years
after it was fought, I, with Colonel Poague, gladly accepted an
invitation from the survivors of Pickett's division to go with them to
Gettysburg, whither they had been invited to meet the Philadelphia
Brigade, as their guests, and go over the battlefield together. After
our arrival there, in company with two officers of the Philadelphia
Brigade, one of Pickett's men and an intelligent guide, I drove over the
field. As a part of our entertainment we saw the Pickett men formed on
the same ground and in the same order in which they had advanced to the
charge. Farther on we saw the superb monuments, marking the location
of the different Federal regiments, presenting the appearance of a vast
cemetery. The position held by the Federals for defense was perfect. Its
extent required the whole of the Confederate army present to occupy the
one line they first adopted, with no troops to spare for flanking. Its
shape, somewhat like a fish-hook, enabled the Federal army to reinforce
promptly any part that was even threatened. Its terrain was such that
the only ground sufficiently smooth for an enemy to advance on, that in
front of its center, was exposed throughout, not only to missiles from
its front, but could be raked from the heights on its left. And, in
addition to all this, the whole face of the country, when the battle was
fought, was closely intersected with post and rail and stone fences.
[Illustration: EDWARD A. MOORE
(February, 1907)]