the West slope of Round Top is the scene of the conflict; and nearer us
there was but short abatement, as the last of the Third Corps retired
from the field, for the enemy is flushed with his success. He has been
throwing forward brigade after brigade, and Division after Division,
since the battle began, and his advancing line now extends almost as far
to our right as the right of the Second Division of the Second Corps.
The whole slope in our front is full of them; and in various formation,
in line, in column, and in masses which are neither, with yells and
thick volleys, they are rushing towards our crest. The Third Corps is
out of the way. Now we are in for it. The battery men are ready by their
loaded guns. All along the crest is ready. Now Arnold and Brown--now
Cushing, and Woodruff, and Rhorty!--you three shall survive to-day! They
drew the cords that moved the friction primers, and gun after gun, along
the batteries, in rapid succession, leaped where it stood and bellowed
its canister upon the enemy. The enemy still advance. The infantry open
fire--first the two advance regiments, the 15th Mass. and the 82d N.
Y.--then here and there throughout the length of the long line, at the
points where the enemy comes nearest, and soon the whole crest,
artillery and infantry, is one continued sheet of fire. From Round Top
to near the Cemetery stretches an uninterrupted field of conflict. There
is a great army upon each side, now hotly engaged.
To see the fight, while it went on in the valley below us, was
terrible,--what must it be now, when we are in it, and it is all around
us, in all its fury?
All senses for the time are dead but the one of sight. The roar of the
discharges and the yells of the enemy all pass unheeded; but the
impassioned soul is all eyes, and sees all things, that the smoke does
not hide. How madly the battery men are driving home the double charges
of canister in those broad-mouthed Napoleons, whose fire seems almost to
reach the enemy. How rapidly these long, blue-coated lines of infantry
deliver their file fire down the slope.
But there is no faltering--the men stand nobly to their work. Men are
dropping dead or wounded on all sides, by scores and by hundreds, and
the poor mutilated creatures, some with an arm dangling, some with a leg
broken by a bullet, are limping and crawling towards the rear. They make
no sound of complaint or pain, but are as silent as if dumb and mute. A
sublime heroism seems to pervade all, and the intuition that to lose
that crest, all is lost. How our officers, in the work of cheering on
and directing the men, are falling.
We have heard that Gen. Zook and Col. Cross, in the First Division of
our Corps, are mortally wounded--they both commanded brigades,--now near
us Col. Ward of the 15th Mass.--he lost a leg at Balls Bluff--and Lieut.
Col. Horton of the 82d N. Y., are mortally struck while trying to hold
their commands, which are being forced back; Col. Revere, 20th Mass.,
grandson of old Paul Revere, of the Revolution, is killed, Lieut. Col.
Max Thoman, commanding 59th N. Y., is mortally wounded, and a host of
others that I cannot name. These were of Gibbon's Division. Lieut. Brown
is wounded among his guns--his position is a hundred yards in advance of
the main line--the enemy is upon his battery, and he escapes, but leaves
three of his six guns in the hands of the enemy.
The fire all along our crest is terrific, and it is a wonder how
anything human could have stood before it, and yet the madness of the
enemy drove them on, clear up to the muzzle of the guns, clear up to the
lines of our infantry--but the lines stood right in their places. Gen.
Hancock and his Aides rode up to Gibbon's Division, under the smoke.
Gen. Gibbon, with myself, was near, and there was a flag dimly visible,
coming towards us from the direction of the enemy. "Here, what are these
men falling back for?" said Hancock. The flag was no more than fifty
yards away, but it was the head of a Rebel column, which at once opened
fire with a volley. Lieut. Miller, Gen. Hancock's Aide, fell, twice
struck, but the General was unharmed, and he told the 1st Minn., which
was near, to drive these people away. That splendid regiment, the less
than three hundred that are left out of fifteen hundred that it has had,
swings around upon the enemy, gives them a volley in their faces, and
advances upon them with the bayonet. The Rebels fled in confusion, but
Col. Colville, Lieut. Col. Adams and Major Downie, are all badly,
dangerously wounded, and many of the other officers and men will never
fight again. More than two-thirds fell.
Such fighting as this cannot last long. It is now near sundown, and the
battle has gone on wonderfully long already. But if you will stop to
notice it, a change has occurred. The Rebel cry has ceased, and the men
of the Union begin to shout there, under the smoke, and their lines to
advance. See, the Rebels are breaking! They are in confusion in all our
front! The wave has rolled upon the rock, and the rock has smashed it.
Let us shout, too!
First upon their extreme left the Rebels broke, where they had almost
pierced our lines; thence the repulse extended rapidly to their right.
They hung longest about Round Top, where the Fifth Corps punished them,
but in a space of time incredibly short, after they first gave signs of
weakness, the whole force of the Rebel assault along the whole line, in
spite of waving red flags, and yells, and the entreaties of officers,
and the pride of the chivalry, fled like chaff before the whirlwind,
back down the slope, over the valley, across the Emmetsburg road,
shattered, without organization in utter confusion, fugitive into the
woods, and victory was with the arms of the Republic. The great Rebel
assault, the greatest ever made upon this continent, has been made and
signally repulsed, and upon this part of the field the fight of to-day
is now soon over. Pursuit was made as rapidly and as far as practicable,
but owing to the proximity of night, and the long distance which would
have to be gone over before any of the enemy, where they would be likely
to halt, could be overtaken, further success was not attainable to-day.
Where the Rebel rout first commenced, a large number of prisoners, some
thousands at least, were captured; almost all their dead, and such of
their wounded as could not themselves get to the rear, were within our
lines; several of their flags were gathered up, and a good many thousand
muskets, some nine or ten guns and some caissons lost by the Third
Corps, and the three of Brown's battery--these last were in Rebel hands
but a few minutes--were all safe now with us, the enemy having had no
time to take them off.
Not less, I estimate, than twenty thousand men were killed or wounded in
this fight. Our own losses must have been nearly half this
number,--about four thousand in the Third Corps, fully two thousand in
the Second, and I think two thousand in the Fifth, and I think the
losses of the First, Twelfth, and a little more than a brigade of the
Sixth--all of that Corps which was actually engaged--would reach nearly
two thousand more. Of course it will never be possible to know the
numbers upon either side who fell in this particular part of the general
battle, but from the position of the enemy and his numbers, and the
appearance of the field, his loss must have been as heavy, or as I think
much heavier than our own, and my estimates are probably short of the
actual loss.
[Illustration: Battle of Gettysburg--Final attack, July 2
(Compiled by C. E. Estabrook)]
The fight done, the sudden revulsions of sense and feeling follow, which
more or less characterize all similar occasions. How strange the
stillness seems! The whole air roared with the conflict but a moment
since--now all is silent; not a gunshot sound is heard, and the silence
comes distinctly, almost painfully to the senses. And the sun purples
the clouds in the West, and the sultry evening steals on as if there had
been no battle, and the furious shout and the cannon's roar had never
shaken the earth. And how look these fields? We may see them before
dark--the ripening grain, the luxuriant corn, the orchards, the grassy
meadows, and in their midst the rural cottage of brick or wood. They
were beautiful this morning. They are desolate now--trampled by the
countless feet of the combatants, plowed and scored by the shot and
shell, the orchards splintered, the fences prostrate, the harvest
trodden in the mud. And more dreadful than the sight of all this,
thickly strewn over all their length and breadth, are the habiliments of
the soldiers, the knapsacks cast aside in the stress of the fight, or
after the fatal lead had struck; haversacks, yawning with the rations
the owner will never call for; canteens of cedar of the Rebel men of
Jackson, and of cloth-covered tin of the men of the Union; blankets and
trowsers, and coats and caps, and some are blue and some are gray;
muskets and ramrods, and bayonets, and swords, and scabbards and belts,
some bent and cut by the shot or shell; broken wheels, exploded
caissons, and limber-boxes, and dismantled guns, and all these are
sprinkled with blood; horses, some dead, a mangled heap of carnage, some
alive, with a leg shot clear off, or other frightful wounds, appealing
to you with almost more than brute gaze as you pass; and last, but not
least numerous, many thousands of men--and there was no rebellion here
now--the men of South Carolina were quiet by the side of those of
Massachusetts, some composed, with upturned faces, sleeping the last
sleep, some mutilated and frightful, some wretched, fallen, bathed in
blood, survivors still and unwilling witnesses of the rage of
Gettysburg.
And yet with all this before them, as darkness came on, and the
dispositions were made and the outposts thrown out for the night, the
Army of the Potomac was quite mad with joy. No more light-hearted guests
ever graced a banquet, than were these men as they boiled their coffee
and munched their soldiers' supper to-night. Is it strange?
Otherwise they would not have been soldiers. And such sights as all
these will be certain to be seen as long as war lasts in the world, and
when war is done, then is the end and the days of the millenium are at
hand.
The ambulances commenced their work as soon as the battle opened--the
twinkling lanterns through the night, and the sun of to-morrow saw them
still with the same work unfinished.
I wish that I could write, that with the coming on of darkness, ended
the fight of to-day, but such was not the case. The armies have fought
enough to-day, and ought to sleep to-night, one would think, but not so
thought the Rebel. Let us see what he gained by his opinion. When the
troops, including those of the Twelfth Corps had been withdrawn from the
extreme right of our line, in the afternoon, to support the left, as I
have mentioned, thereby, of course, weakening that part of the line so
left, the Rebel Ewell, either becoming aware of the fact, or because he
thought he could carry our right at all events, late in the afternoon
commenced an assault upon that part of our line. His battle had been
going on there simultaneously with the fight on the left, but not with
any great degree of obstinacy on his part. He had advanced his men
through the woods, and in front of the formidable position lately held
by the Twelfth Corps cautiously, and to his surprise, I have no doubt,
found our strong defenses upon the extreme right, entirely abandoned.
These he at once took possession of, and simultaneously made an attack
upon our right flank, which was now near the summit of Culp's hill, and
upon the front of that part of the line. That small portion of the
Twelfth Corps, which had been left there, and some of the Eleventh
Corps, sent to their assistance, did what they could to check the
Rebels; but the Eleventh Corps men were getting shot at there, and they
did not want to stay. Matters began to have a bad look in that part of
the field. A portion of the First Division of the First Corps, was sent
there for support--the 6th Wisconsin, among others, and this improved
matters--but still, as we had but a small number of men there, all told,
the enemy with their great numbers, were having too much prospect of
success, and it seems that, probably emboldened by this, Ewell had
resolved upon a night attack upon that wing of the army, and was making
his dispositions accordingly. The enemy had not at sundown, actually
carried any part of our rifle pits there, save the ones abandoned, but
he was getting troops assembled upon our flank, and altogether, with our
weakness there, at that time, matters did not look as we would like to
have them. Such was then the posture of affairs, when the fight upon our
left, that I have described, was done. Under such circumstances it is
not strange that the Twelfth Corps, as soon as its work was done upon
the left, was quickly ordered back to the right, to its old position.
There it arrived in good time; not soon enough, of course, to avoid the
mortification of finding the enemy in the possession of a part of the
works the men had labored so hard to construct, but in ample time before
dark to put the men well in the pits we already held, and to take up a
strong defensible position, at right angles to, and in rear of the main
line, in order to resist these flanking dispositions of the enemy. The
army was secure again. The men in the works would be steady against all
attacks in front, as long as they knew that their flank was safe. Until
between ten and eleven o'clock at night, the woods upon the right,
resounded with the discharges of musketry. Shortly after or about dark,
the enemy made a dash upon the right of the Eleventh Corps. They crept
up the windings of a valley, not in a very heavy force, but from the
peculiar mode in which this Corps does outpost duty, quite unperceived
in the dark until they were close upon the main line. It is said, I do
not know it to be true, that they spiked two guns of one of the Eleventh
Corps' batteries, and that the battery men had to drive them off with
their sabres and rammers, and that there was some fearful "Dutch"
swearing on the occasion, "_donner wetter_" among other similar impious
oaths, having been freely used. The enemy here were finally repulsed by
the assistance of Col. Correll's brigade of the Third Division of the
Second Corps, and the 106th Pa., from the Second Division of the same
Corps, was by Gen. Howard's request sent there to do outpost duty. It
seems to have been a matter of utter madness and folly on the part of
the enemy to have continued their night attack, as they did upon the
right. Our men were securely covered by ample works and even in most
places a log was placed a few inches above the top of the main
breastwork, as a protection to the heads of the men as they thrust out
their pieces beneath it to fire. Yet in the darkness the enemy would
rush up, clambering over rocks and among trees, even to the front of the
works, but only to leave their riddled bodies there upon the ground or
to be swiftly repulsed headlong into the woods again. In the darkness
the enemy would climb trees close to the works, and endeavor to shoot
our men by the light of the flashes. When discovered, a thousand bullets
would whistle after them in the dark, and some would hit, and then the
Rebel would make up his mind to come down.
Our loss was light, almost nothing in this fight--the next morning the
enemy's dead were thick all along this part of the line. Near eleven
o'clock the enemy, wearied with his disastrous work, desisted, and
thereafter until morning, not a shot was heard in all the armies.
So much for the battle. There is another thing that I wish to mention,
of the matters of the 2d of July.
After evening came on, and from reports received, all was known to be
going satisfactorily upon the right, Gen. Meade summoned his Corps
Commanders to his Headquarters for consultation. A consultation is held
upon matters of vast moment to the country, and that poor little
farm-house is honored with more distinguished guests than it ever had
before, or than it will ever have again, probably.
Do you expect to see a degree of ceremony, and severe military aspect
characterize this meeting, in accordance with strict military rules, and
commensurate with the moment of the matters of their deliberation? Name
it "Major General Meade, Commander of the Army of the Potomac, with his
Corps Generals, holding a Council of War, upon the field of Gettysburg,"
and it would sound pretty well,--and that was what it was; and you might
make a picture of it and hang it up by the side of "Napoleon and his
Marshals," and "Washington and his Generals," maybe, at some future
time. But for the artist to draw his picture from, I will tell how this
council appeared. Meade, Sedgwick, Slocum, Howard, Hancock, Sykes,
Newton, Pleasanton--commander of the cavalry--and Gibbon, were the
Generals present. Hancock, now that Sickles is wounded, has charge of
the Third Corps, and Gibbon again has the Second. Meade is a tall spare
man, with full beard, which with his hair, originally brown, is quite
thickly sprinkled with gray--has a Romanish face, very large nose, and a
white, large forehead, prominent and wide over the eyes, which are full
and large, and quick in their movements, and he wears spectacles. His
_fibres_ are all of the long and sinewy kind. His habitual personal
appearance is quite careless, and it would be rather difficult to make
him look well dressed. Sedgwick is quite a heavy man, short, thick-set
and muscular, with florid complexion, dark, calm, straight-looking eyes,
with full, heavyish features, which, with his eyes, have plenty of
animation when he is aroused. He has a magnificent profile, well cut,
with the nose and forehead forming almost a straight line, curly, short,
chestnut hair and full beard, cut short, with a little gray in it. He
dresses carelessly, but can look magnificently when he is well dressed.
Like Meade, he looks and is, honest and modest. You might see at once,
why his men, because they love him, call him "Uncle John," not to his
face, of course, but among themselves. Slocum is small, rather spare,
with black, straight hair and beard, which latter is unshaven and thin,
large, full, quick, black eyes, white skin, sharp nose, wide cheek
bones, and hollow cheeks and small chin. His movements are quick and
angular, and he dresses with a sufficient degree of elegance. Howard is
medium in size, has nothing marked about him, is the youngest of them
all, I think--has lost an arm in the war, has straight brown hair and
beard, shaves his short upper lip, over which his nose slants down, dim
blue eyes, and on the whole, appears a very pleasant, affable, well
dressed little gentleman. Hancock is the tallest and most shapely, and
in many respects is the best looking officer of them all. His hair is
very light brown, straight and moist, and always looks well, his beard
is of the same color, of which he wears the moustache and a tuft upon
the chin; complexion ruddy, features neither large nor small, but well
cut, with full jaw and chin, compressed mouth, straight nose, full, deep
blue eyes, and a very mobile, emotional countenance. He always dresses
remarkably well, and his manner is dignified, gentlemanly and
commanding. I think if he were in citizens clothes, and should give
commands in the army to those who did not know him, he would be likely
to be obeyed at once, and without any question as to his right to
command. Sykes is a small, rather thin man, well dressed and
gentlemanly, brown hair and beard, which he wears full, with a red,
pinched, rough-looking skin, feeble blue eyes, long nose, with the
general air of one who is weary and a little ill-natured. Newton is a
well-sized, shapely, muscular, well dressed man, with brown hair, with a
very ruddy, clean-shaved, full face, blue eyes, blunt, round features,
walks very erect, curbs in his chin, and has somewhat of that smart sort
of swagger that people are apt to suppose characterizes soldiers.
Pleasonton is quite a nice little dandy, with brown hair and beard, a
straw hat with a little jockey rim, which he cocks upon one side of his
head, with an unsteady eye, that looks slyly at you and then dodges.
Gibbon, the youngest of them all, save Howard, is about the same size as
Slocum, Howard, Sykes and Pleasonton, and there are none of these who
will weigh one hundred and fifty pounds. He is compactly made, neither
spare nor corpulent, with ruddy complexion, chestnut brown hair, with a
clean-shaved face, except his moustache, which is decidedly reddish in
color, medium-sized, well-shaped head, sharp, moderately-jutting brow,
deep blue, calm eyes, sharp, slightly aquiline nose, compressed mouth,
full jaws and chin, with an air of calm firmness in his manner. He
always looks well dressed. I suppose Howard is about thirty-five and
Meade about forty-five years of age; the rest are between these ages,
but not many under forty. As they come to the council now, there is the
appearance of fatigue about them, which is not customary, but is only
due to the hard labors of the past few days. They all wear clothes of
dark blue, some have top boots and some not, and except the two-starred
straps upon the shoulders of all save Gibbon, who has but one star,
there was scarcely a piece of regulation uniform about them all. They
wore their swords, of various patterns, but no sashes, the Army hat, but
with the crown pinched into all sorts of shapes and the rim slouched
down and shorn of all its ornaments but the gilt band--except Sykes who
wore a blue cap, and Pleasonton with his straw hat with broad black
band. Then the mean little room where they met,--its only furniture
consisted of a large, wide bed in one corner, a small pine table in the
center, upon which was a wooden pail of water, with a tin cup for
drinking, and a candle, stuck to the table by putting the end in tallow
melted down from the wick, and five or six straight-backed rush-bottomed
chairs. The Generals came in--some sat, some kept walking or standing,
two lounged upon the bed, some were constantly smoking cigars. And thus
disposed, they deliberated whether the army should fall back from its
present position to one in rear which it was said was stronger, should
attack the enemy on the morrow, wherever he could be found, or should
stand there upon the horse-shoe crest, still on the defensive, and await
the further movements of the enemy.
The latter proposition was unanimously agreed to. Their heads were
sound. The Army of the Potomac would just halt right there, and allow
the Rebel to come up and smash his head against it, to any reasonable
extent he desired, as he had to-day. After some two hours the council
dissolved, and the officers went their several ways.
Night, sultry and starless, droned on, and it was almost midnight that I
found myself peering my way from the line of the Second Corps, back down
to the General's Headquarters, which were an ambulance in the rear, in a
little peach orchard. All was silent now but the sound of the
ambulances, as they were bringing off the wounded, and you could hear
them rattle here and there about the field, and see their lanterns. I
am weary and sleepy, almost to such an extent as not to be able to sit
on my horse. And my horse can hardly move--the spur will not start
him--what can be the reason? I know that he has been touched by two or
three bullets to-day, but not to wound or lame him to speak of. Then, in
riding by a horse that is hitched, in the dark, I got kicked; had I not
a very thick boot, the blow would have been likely to have broken my
ankle--it did break my temper as it was--and, as if it would cure
matters, I foolishly spurred my horse again. No use, he would but walk.
I dismounted; I could not lead him along at all, so out of temper I rode
at the slowest possible walk to the Headquarters, which I reached at
last. General Hancock and Gibbon were asleep in the ambulance. With a
light I found what was the matter with "Billy." A bullet had entered his
chest just in front of my left leg, as I was mounted, and the blood was
running down all his side and leg, and the air from his lungs came out
of the bullet-hole. I begged his pardon mentally for my cruelty in
spurring him, and should have done so in words if he could have
understood me. Kind treatment as is due to the wounded he could
understand, and he had it. Poor Billy! He and I were first under fire
together, and I rode him at the second Bull Run and the first and second
Fredericksburg, and at Antietam after brave "Joe" was killed; but I
shall never mount him again--Billy's battles are over.