GETTYSBURG.
A Hasty Departure.--At Harrisburg.--_En route_ for the Army of
the Potomac.--The Battle-Field at Gettysburg.--Appearance of
the Cemetery.--Importance of the Position.--The Configuration
of Ground.--Traces of Battle.--Round Hill.--General Meade's
Head-Quarters.--Appearance of the Dead.--Through the Forests along the
Line.--Retreat and Pursuit of Lee.
While in St. Louis, late in June, 1863, I received the following
telegram:--
"HERALD OFFICE,
"NEW YORK, _June_ 28.
"Report at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, at the earliest possible moment."
Two hours later, I was traveling eastward as fast as an express train
could carry me.
The Rebel army, under General Lee, had crossed the Potomac, and
was moving toward Harrisburg. The Army of the Potomac was in rapid
pursuit. A battle was imminent between Harrisburg and Baltimore.
Waiting a day at Harrisburg, I found the capital of the Keystone State
greatly excited. The people were slow to move in their own behalf.
Earth-works were being thrown up on the south bank of the Susquehanna,
principally by the soldiers from other parts of Pennsylvania and from
New York.
When it was first announced that the enemy was approaching, only
seventeen men volunteered to form a local defense. I saw no such
enthusiasm on the part of the inhabitants as I had witnessed at
Cincinnati during the previous autumn. Pennsylvania sent many
regiments to the field during the war, and her soldiers gained a
fine reputation; but the best friends of the State will doubtless
acknowledge that Harrisburg was slow to act when the Rebels made their
last great invasion.
I was ordered to join the Army of the Potomac wherever I could find
it. As I left Harrisburg, I learned that a battle was in progress.
Before I could reach the field the great combat had taken place. The
two contending armies had made Gettysburg historic.
I joined our army on the day after the battle. I could find no person
of my acquaintance, amid the confusion that followed the termination
of three days' fighting. The army moved in pursuit of Lee, whose
retreat was just commencing. As our long lines stretched away toward
the Potomac, I walked over the ground where the battle had raged,
and studied the picture that was presented. I reproduce, in part, my
letter of that occasion:--
"Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, _July_ 6,1863.
"To-day I have passed along the whole ground where the lines of battle
were drawn. The place bears evidence of a fierce struggle. The shocks
of those two great armies surging and resurging, the one against
the other, could hardly pass without leaving their traces in fearful
characters. At Waterloo, at Wagram, and at Jena the wheat grows more
luxuriantly, and the corn shoots its stalks further toward the sky
than before the great conflicts that rendered those fields famous. The
broad acres of Gettysburg and Antietam will in future years yield the
farmer a richer return than he has hithto received.
"Passing out of Gettysburg by the Baltimore turnpike, we come in a
few steps to the entrance of the cemetery. Little of the inclosure
remains, save the gateway, from which the gates have been torn. The
neat wooden fence, first thrown down to facilitate the movement of our
artillery, was used for fuel, as the soldiers made their camp on the
spot. A few scattered palings are all that remain. The cemetery was
such as we usually find near thrifty towns like Gettysburg. None of
the monuments and adornings were highly expensive, though all were
neat, and a few were elaborate. There was considerable taste displayed
in the care of the grounds, as we can see from the few traces
that remain. The eye is arrested by a notice, prominently posted,
forbidding the destruction or mutilation of any shrub, tree, or stone
about the place, under severe penalties. The defiance that war gives
to the civil law is forcibly apparent as one peruses those warning
lines.
"Monuments and head-stones lie everywhere overturned. Graves, which
loving hands once carefully adorned, have been trampled by horses'
feet until the vestiges of verdure have disappeared. The neat and
well-trained shrubbery has vanished, or is but a broken and withered
mass of tangled brushwood. On one grave lies the body of a horse, fast
decomposing under the July sun. On another lie the torn garments of
some wounded soldier, stained and saturated with blood. Across a small
head-stone, bearing the words, 'To the memory of our beloved child,
Mary,' lie the fragments of a musket shattered by a cannon-shot.
"In the center of a space inclosed by an iron fence, and containing a
half-dozen graves, a few rails are standing where they were erected by
our soldiers to form their shelter in bivouac. A family shaft has been
broken in fragments by a shell. Stone after stone felt the effects of
the _feu d'enfer_ that was poured upon the crest of the hill. Cannon
thundered, and foot and horse soldiers tramped over the resting-place
of the dead. Other dead were added to those who are resting here. Many
a wounded soldier lives to remember the contest above those silent
graves.
"The hill on which this cemetery is located was the center of our line
of battle and the key to our position. Had the Rebels been able to
carry this point, they would have forced us into retreat, and the
battle would have been lost. To pierce our line in this locality was
Lee's great endeavor, and he threw his best brigades against it. Wave
after wave of living valor rolled up that slope, only to roll back
again under the deadly fire of our artillery and infantry. It was on
this hill, a little to the right of the cemetery, where the 'Louisiana
Tigers' made their famous charge. It was their boast that they were
never yet foiled in an attempt to take a battery; but on this
occasion they suffered a defeat, and were nearly annihilated. Sad and
dispirited, they mourn their repulse and their terrible losses in the
assault.
"From the summit of this hill a large portion of the battle-ground
is spread out before the spectator. In front and at his feet lies the
town of Gettysburg, containing, in quiet times, a population of four
or five thousand souls. It is not more than a hundred yards to the
houses in the edge of the village, where the contest with the Rebel
sharp-shooters took place. To the left of the town stretches a long
valley, bounded on each side by a gently-sloping ridge. The crest of
each ridge is distant nearly a mile from the other. It was on these
ridges that the lines of battle on the second and third days were
formed, the Rebel line being on the ridge to the westward. The one
stretching directly from our left hand, and occupied by our own men,
has but little timber upon it, while that held by the rebels can
boast of several groves of greater or less extent. In one of these
the Pennsylvania College is embowered, while in another is seen the
Theological Seminary. Half-way between the ridges are the ruins of a
large brick building burned during the engagement. Dotted about, here
and there, are various brick and frame structures. Two miles at our
left rises a sharp-pointed elevation, known to the inhabitants of the
region as Round Hill. Its sides are wooded, and the forest stretches
from its base across the valley to the crest of the western ridge.
"It must not be supposed that the space between the ridges is an even
plain, shaven with, the scythe and leveled with the roller. It rises
and falls gently, and with little regularity, but in no place is
it steep of ascent. Were it not for its ununiformity and for the
occasional sprinkling of trees over its surface, it could be compared
to a patch of rolling prairie in miniature. To the southwest of the
further ridge is seen the mountain region of Western Maryland, behind
which the Rebels had their line of retreat. It is not a wild, rough
mass of mountains, but a region of hills of the larger and more
inaccessible sort. They are traversed by roads only in a few
localities, and their passage, except through, the gaps, is difficult
for a single team, and impossible for an army.
"The Theological Seminary was the scene of a fierce struggle. It was
beyond it where the First and Eleventh Corps contended with Ewell and
Longstreet on the first day of the engagement. Afterward, finding the
Rebels were too strong for them, they fell back to a new position,
this building being included in the line. The walls of the Seminary
were perforated by shot and shell, and the bricks are indented with
numerous bullet-marks. Its windows show the effects of the musketry,
and but little glass remains to shut out the cold and rain. The
building is now occupied as a hospital by the Rebels. The Pennsylvania
College is similarly occupied, and the instruction of its students is
neglected for the present.
"In passing from the cemetery along the crest of the ridge where our
line of battle stood, I first came upon the position occupied by
some of our batteries. This is shown by the many dead horses lying
unburied, and by the mounds which mark where others have been slightly
covered up. There are additional traces of an artillery fight. Here
is a broken wheel of a gun-carriage, an exploded caisson, a handspike,
and some of the accoutrements of the men. In the fork of a tree I
found a Testament, with the words, 'Charles Durrale, Corporal of
Company G,' written on the fly-leaf. The guns and the gunners, have
disappeared. Some of the latter are now with the column moving in
pursuit of the enemy, others are suffering in the hospitals, and still
others are resting where the bugle's reveille shall never wake them.
"Between the cemetery and the town and at the foot of the ridge where
I stand, runs the road leading to Emmetsburg. It is not a turnpike,
but a common dirt-road, and, as it leaves the main street leading into
town, it makes a diagonal ascent of the hill. On the eastern side,
this road is bordered by a stone wall for a short distance.
Elsewhere on both sides there is only a rail fence. A portion of our
sharp-shooters took position behind this wall, and erected traverses
to protect them from a flanking fire, should the enemy attempt to move
up the road from Gettysburg. These traverses are constructed at right
angles to the wall, by making a 'crib' of fence-rails, two feet high
and the same distance apart, and then filling the crib with dirt.
Further along I find the rails from the western side of the road,
piled against the fence on the east, so as to form a breast-work two
or three feet in height--a few spadesful of dirt serve to fill the
interstices. This defense was thrown up by the Rebels at the time they
were holding the line of the roads.
"Moving to the left, I find still more severe traces of artillery
fighting. Twenty-seven dead horses on a space of little more than one
acre is evidence of heavy work. Here are a few scattered trees, which
were evidently used as a screen for our batteries. These trees did not
escape the storm of shot and shell that was rained in that direction.
Some of them were perforated by cannon-shot, or have been completely
cut off in that peculiar splintering that marks the course of a
projectile through green wood. Near the scene of this fighting is a
large pile of muskets and cartridge-boxes collected from the field.
Considerable work has been done in thus gathering the débris of the
battle, but it is by no means complete. Muskets, bayonets, and sabers
are scattered everywhere.
"My next advance to the left carries me where the ground is thickly
studded with graves. In one group I count a dozen graves of soldiers
belonging to the Twentieth Massachusetts; near them are buried the
dead of the One Hundred and Thirty-seventh New York, and close at hand
an equal number from the Twelfth New Jersey. Care has been taken to
place a head-board at each grave, with a legible inscription thereon,
showing whose remains are resting beneath. On one board the comrades
of the dead soldier had nailed the back of his knapsack, which bore
his name. On another was a brass plate, bearing the soldier's name in
heavily stamped letters.
"Moving still to the left, I found an orchard in which the fighting
appears to have been desperate in the extreme. Artillery shot had
plowed the ground in every direction, and the trees did not escape the
fury of the storm. The long bolts of iron, said by our officers to be
a modification of the Whitworth projectile, were quite numerous. The
Rebels must have been well supplied with this species of ammunition,
and they evidently used it with no sparing hand. At one time I counted
twelve of these bolts lying on a space not fifty feet square. I am
told that many shot and shell passed over the heads of our soldiers
during the action.
"A mile from our central position at the cemetery, was a field of
wheat, and near it a large tract, on which corn had been growing.
The wheat was trampled by the hurrying feet of the dense masses of
infantry, as they changed their positions during the battle. In the
cornfield artillery had been stationed, and moved about as often as
the enemy obtained its range. Hardly a hill of corn is left in its
pristine luxuriance. The little that escaped the hoof or the wheel,
as the guns moved from place to place, was nibbled by hungry horses
during the bivouac subsequent to the battle. Not a stalk of wheat is
upright; not a blade of corn remains uninjured; all has fallen long
before the time of harvest. Another harvest, in which Death was the
reaper, has been gathered above it.
"On our extreme left the pointed summit of a hill, a thousand feet in
elevation, rises toward the sky. Beyond it, the country falls off into
the mountain region that extends to the Potomac and across it into
Virginia. This hill is quite difficult of ascent, and formed a strong
position, on which the left of our line rested. The enemy assaulted
this point with great fury, throwing his divisions, one after the
other, against it. Their efforts were of no avail. Our men defended
their ground against every attack. It was like the dash of the French
at Waterloo against the immovable columns of the English. Stubborn
resistance overcame the valor of the assailants. Again and again they
came to the assault, only to fall back as they had advanced. Our left
held its ground, though it lost heavily.
"On this portion of the line, about midway between the crests of the
ridges, is a neat farm-house. Around this dwelling the battle raged,
as around Hougoumont at Waterloo. At one time it was in the possession
of the Rebels, and was fiercely attacked by our men. The walls were
pierced by shot and shell, many of the latter exploding within,
and making a scene of devastation. The glass was shattered by rifle
bullets on every side, and the wood-work bears testimony to the
struggle. The sharp-shooters were in every room, and added to the
disorder caused by the explosion of shells. The soldiers destroyed
what the missiles spared. The Rebels were driven from the house, and
the position was taken by our own men. They, in turn, were dislodged,
but finally secured a permanent footing in the place.
"Retracing my steps from the extreme left, I return to the center of
our position on Cemetery Hill. I do not follow the path by which I
came, but take a route along the hollow, between the two ridges. It
was across this hollow that the Rebels made their assaults upon our
position. Much blood was poured out between these two swells of land.
Most of the dead were buried where they fell, or gathered in little
clusters beneath some spreading tree or beside clumps of bushes. Some
of the Rebel dead are still unburied. I find one of these as I descend
a low bank to the side of a small spring. The body is lying near the
spring, as if the man had crawled there to obtain a draught of water.
Its hands are outspread upon the earth, and clutching at the little
tufts of grass beneath them. The soldier's haversack and canteen are
still remaining, and his hat is lying not far away.
"A few paces distant is another corpse, with its hands thrown upward
in the position the soldier occupied when he received his fatal wound.
The clothing is not torn, no blood appears upon the garments, and the
face, though swollen, bears no expression of anguish. Twenty yards
away are the remains of a body cut in two by a shell. The grass is
drenched in blood, that the rain of yesterday has not washed away.
As I move forward I find the body of a Rebel soldier, evidently
slain while taking aim over a musket. The hands are raised, the left
extended beyond the right, and the fingers of the former partly bent,
as if they had just been grasping the stock of a gun. One foot is
advanced, and the body is lying on its right side. To appearances it
did not move a muscle after receiving its death-wound. Another body
attracts my attention by its delicate white hands, and its face black
as that of a negro.
"The farm-house on the Emmetsburg road, where General Meade held his
head-quarters during the cannonade, is most fearfully cut up. General
Lee masked his artillery, and opened with one hundred and thirty
pieces at the same moment. Two shells in every second of time fell
around those head-quarters. They tore through the little white
building, exploding and scattering their fragments in every direction.
Not a spot in its vicinity was safe. One shell through the door-step,
another in the chimney, a third shattering a rafter, a fourth carrying
away the legs of a chair in which an officer was seated; others
severing and splintering the posts in front of the house, howling
through the trees by which the dwelling was surrounded, and raising
deep furrows in the soft earth. One officer, and another, and another
were wounded. Strange to say, amid all this iron hail, no one of the
staff was killed.
"Once more at the cemetery, I crossed the Baltimore turnpike to the
hill that forms the extremity of the ridge, on which the main portion
of our line of battle was located. I followed this ridge to the point
held by our extreme right. About midway along the ridge was the scene
of the fiercest attack upon that portion of the field. Tree after
tree was scarred from base to limbs so thickly that it would have been
impossible to place one's hand upon the trunk without covering the
marks of a bullet. One tree was stripped of more than half its leaves;
many of its twigs were partially severed, and hanging wilted and
nearly ready to drop to the ground. The trunk of the tree, about ten
inches in diameter, was cut and scarred in every part. The fire
which struck these trees was that from our muskets upon the advancing
Rebels. Every tree and bush for the distance of half a mile along
these works was nearly as badly marked. The rocks, wherever they faced
our breast-works, were thickly stippled with dots like snow-flakes.
The missiles, flattened by contact with the rock, were lying among the
leaves, giving little indication of their former character.
"Our sharp-shooters occupied novel positions. One of them found half
a hollow log, standing upright, with a hole left by the removal of a
knot, which gave him an excellent embrasure. Some were in tree-tops,
others in nooks among the rocks, and others behind temporary
barricades of their own construction. Owing to the excellence of our
defenses, the Rebels lost heavily."
A few days after visiting this field, I joined the army in Western
Maryland. The Rebels were between us and the Potomac. We were steadily
pressing them, rather with a design of driving them across the Potomac
without further fighting, than of bringing on an engagement. Lee
effected his crossing in safety, only a few hundred men of his
rear-guard being captured on the left bank of the Potomac.
The Maryland campaign was ended when Lee was driven out. Our army
crossed the Potomac further down that stream, but made no vigorous
pursuit. I returned to New York, and once more proceeded to the West.
Our victory in Pennsylvania was accompanied by the fall of Vicksburg
and the surrender of Pemberton's army. A few days later, the capture
of Port Hudson was announced. The struggle for the possession of the
Mississippi was substantially ended when the Rebel fortifications
along its banks fell into our hands.