Pull off my sabre and my boots--that will do!" Was ever princely couch
or softest down so soft as those rough blankets, there upon the unroofed
sod? At midnight they received me for four hours delicious, dreamless
oblivion of weariness and of battle. So to me ended the Second of July.
At four o'clock on the morning of the Third, I was awakened by Gen.
Gibbon's pulling me by the foot and saying: "Come, don't you hear that?"
I sprang up to my feet. Where was I? A moment and my dead senses and
memory were alive again, and the sound of brisk firing of musketry to
the front and right of the Second Corps, and over at the extreme right
of our line, where we heard it last in the night, brought all back to
my memory. We surely were on the field of battle, and there were
palpable evidences to my reason that to-day was to be another of blood.
Oh! for a moment the thought of it was sickening to every sense and
feeling! But the motion of my horse as I galloped over the crest a few
minutes later, and the serene splendor of the morning now breaking
through rifted clouds and spreading over the landscape, soon reassured
me. Come day of battle! Up Rebel hosts, and thunder with your arms! We
are all ready to do and to die for the Republic!
I found a sharp skirmish going on in front of the right of the Second
Corps, between our outposts and those of the enemy, but save this--and
none of the enemy but his outposts were in sight--all was quiet in that
part of the field. On the extreme right of the line the sound of
musketry was quite heavy; and this I learned was brought on by the
attack of the Second Division, Twelfth Corps, Gen. Geary, upon the enemy
in order to drive him out of our works which he had sneaked into
yesterday, as I have mentioned. The attack was made at the earliest
moment in the morning when it was light enough to discern objects to
fire at. The enemy could not use the works, but was confronting Geary in
woods, and had the cover of many rocks and trees, so the fight was an
irregular one, now breaking out and swelling to a vigorous fight, now
subsiding to a few scattering shots; and so it continued by turns until
the morning was well advanced, when the enemy was finally wholly
repulsed and driven from the pits, and the right of our line was again
re-established in the place it first occupied. The heaviest losses the
Twelfth Corps sustained in all the battle, occurred during this attack,
and they were here quite severe. I heard Gen. Meade express
dissatisfaction at Gen. Geary for making this attack, as a thing not
ordered and not necessary, as the works of ours were of no intrinsic
importance, and had not been captured from us by a fight, and Geary's
position was just as good as they, where he was during the night. And I
heard Gen. Meade say that he sent an order to have the fight stopped;
but I believe the order was not communicated to Geary until after the
repulse of the enemy. Late in the forenoon the enemy again tried to
carry our right by storm. We heard that old Rebel Ewell had sworn an
oath that he would break our right. He had Stonewall Jackson's Corps,
and possibly imagined himself another Stonewall, but he certainly
_hankered_ after the right of our line--and so up through the woods, and
over the rocks, and up the steeps he sent his storming parties--our men
could see them now in the day time. But all the Rebel's efforts were
fruitless, save in one thing, slaughter to his own men. These assaults
were made with great spirit and determination, but as the enemy would
come up, our men lying behind their secure defenses would just singe
them with the blaze of their muskets, and riddle them, as a hail-storm
the tender blades of corn. The Rebel oath was not kept, any more than
his former one to support the Constitution of the United States. The
Rebel loss was very heavy indeed, here, ours but trifling. I regret that
I cannot give more of the details of this fighting upon the right--it
was so determined upon the part of the enemy, both last night and this
morning--so successful to us. About all that I actually saw of it
during its progress, was the smoke, and I heard the discharges. My
information is derived from officers who were personally in it. Some of
our heavier artillery assisted our infantry in this by firing, with the
piece elevated, far from the rear, over the heads of our men, at a
distance from the enemy of two miles, I suppose. Of course they could
have done no great damage. It was nearly eleven o'clock that the battle
in this part of the field subsided, not to be again renewed. All the
morning we felt no apprehension for this part of the line, for we knew
its strength, and that our troops engaged, the Twelfth Corps and the
First Division, Wadsworth's, of the First, could be trusted.
For the sake of telling one thing at a time, I have anticipated events
somewhat, in writing of this fight upon the right. I shall now go back
to the starting point, four o'clock this morning, and, as other events
occurred during the day, second to none in the battle in importance,
which I think I saw as much of as any man living, I will tell you
something of them, and what I saw, and how the time moved on. The
outpost skirmish that I have mentioned, soon subsided. I suppose it was
the natural escape of the wrath which the men had, during the night,
hoarded up against each other, and which, as soon as they could see in
the morning, they could no longer contain, but must let it off through
their musket barrels, at their adversaries. At the commencement of the
war such firing would have awaked the whole army and roused it to its
feet and to arms; not so now. The men upon the crest lay snoring in
their blankets, even though some of the enemy's bullets dropped among
them, as if bullets were as harmless as the drops of dew around them. As
the sun arose to-day, the clouds became broken, and we had once more
glimpses of sky, and fits of sunshine--a rarity, to cheer us. From the
crest, save to the right of the Second Corps, no enemy, not even his
outposts could be discovered, along all the position where he so
thronged upon the Third Corps yesterday. All was silent there--the
wounded horses were limping about the field; the ravages of the conflict
were still fearfully visible--the scattered arms and the ground thickly
dotted with the dead--but no hostile foe. The men were roused early, in
order that the morning meal might be out of the way in time for whatever
should occur. Then ensued the hum of an army, not in ranks, chatting in
low tones, and running about and jostling among each other, rolling and
packing their blankets and tents. They looked like an army of
rag-gatherers, while shaking these very useful articles of the soldier's
outfit, for you must know that rain and mud in conjunction have not had
the effect to make them clean, and the wear and tear of service have not
left them entirely whole. But one could not have told by the appearance
of the men, that they were in battle yesterday, and were likely to be
again to-day. They packed their knapsacks, boiled their coffee and
munched their hard bread, just as usual--just like old soldiers who know
what campaigning is; and their talk is far more concerning their present
employment--some joke or drollery--than concerning what they saw or did
yesterday.
As early as practicable the lines all along the left are revised and
reformed, this having been rendered necessary by yesterday's battle, and
also by what is anticipated to-day.
It is the opinion of many of our Generals that the Rebel will not give
us battle to-day--that he had enough yesterday--that he will be heading
towards the Potomac at the earliest practicable moment, if he has not
already done so; but the better, and controlling judgment is, that he
will make another grand effort to pierce or turn our lines--that he will
either mass and attack the left again, as yesterday, or direct his
operations against the left of our center, the position of the Second
Corps, and try to sever our line. I infer that Gen. Meade was of the
opinion that the attack to-day would be upon the left--this from the
disposition he ordered, I know that Gen. Hancock anticipated the attack
upon the center.
The dispositions to-day upon the left are as follows:
The Second and Third Divisions of the Second Corps are in the position
of yesterday; then on the left come Doubleday's--the Third Division and
Col. Stannard's brigade of the First Corps; then Colwell's--the First
Division of the Second Corps; then the Third Corps, temporarily under
the command of Hancock, since Sickles' wound. The Third Corps is upon
the same ground in part, and on the identical line where it first formed
yesterday morning, and where, had it stayed instead of moving out to the
front, we should have many more men to-day, and should not have been
upon the brink of disaster yesterday. On the left of the Third Corps is
the Fifth Corps, with a short front and deep line; then comes the Sixth
Corps, all but one brigade, which is sent over to the Twelfth. The
Sixth, a splendid Corps, almost intact in the fight of yesterday, is the
extreme left of our line, which terminates to the south of Round Top,
and runs along its western base, in the woods, and thence to the
Cemetery. This Corps is burning to pay off the old scores made on the
4th of May, there back of Fredericksburg. Note well the position of the
Second and Third Divisions of the Second Corps--it will become
important. There are nearly six thousand men and officers in these two
Divisions here upon the field--the losses were quite heavy yesterday,
some regiments are detached to other parts of the field--so all told
there are less than six thousand men now in the two Divisions, who
occupy a line of about a thousand yards. The most of the way along this
line upon the crest was a stone fence, constructed of small, rough
stones, a good deal of the way badly pulled down, but the men had
improved it and patched it with rails from the neighboring fences, and
with earth, so as to render it in many places a very passable breastwork
against musketry and flying fragments of shells.
These works are so low as to compel the men to kneel or lie down
generally to obtain cover. Near the right of the Second Division, and
just by the little group of trees that I have mentioned there, this
stone fence made a right angle, and extended thence to the front, about
twenty or thirty yards, where with another less than a right angle it
followed along the crest again.
The lines were conformed to these breastworks and to the nature of the
ground upon the crest, so as to occupy the most favorable places, to be
covered, and still be able to deliver effective fire upon the enemy
should he come there. In some places a second line was so posted as to
be able to deliver its fire over the heads of the first line behind the
works; but such formation was not practicable all of the way. But all
the force of these two divisions was in line, in position, without
reserves, and in such a manner that every man of them could have fired
his piece at the same instant. The division flags, that of the Second
Division, being a white trefoil upon a square blue field, and of the
Third Division a blue trefoil upon a white rectangular field, waved
behind the divisions at the points where the Generals of Division were
supposed to be; the brigade flags, similar to these but with a
triangular field, were behind the brigades; and the national flags of
the regiments were in the lines of their regiments. To the left of the
Second Division, and advanced something over a hundred yards, were
posted a part of Stannard's Brigade two regiments or more, behind a
small bush-crowned crest that ran in a direction oblique to the general
line. These were well covered by the crest, and wholly concealed by the
bushes, so that an advancing enemy would be close upon them before they
could be seen. Other troops of Doubleday's Division were strongly posted
in rear of these in the general line.
I could not help wishing all the morning that this line of the two
divisions of the Second Corps was stronger; it was so far as numbers
constitute strength, the weakest part of our whole line of battle. What
if, I thought, the enemy should make an assault here to-day, with two or
three heavy lines--a great overwhelming mass; would he not sweep through
that thin six thousand?
But I was not General Meade, who alone had power to send other troops
there; and he was satisfied with that part of the line as it was. He was
early on horseback this morning, and rode along the whole line, looking
to it himself, and with glass in hand sweeping the woods and fields in
the direction of the enemy, to see if aught of him could be discovered.
His manner was calm and serious, but earnest. There was no arrogance of
hope, or timidity of fear discernible in his face; but you would have
supposed he would do his duty conscientiously and well, and would be
willing to abide the result. You would have seen this in his face. He
was well pleased with the left of the line to-day, it was so strong with
good troops. He had no apprehension for the right where the fight now
was going on, on account of the admirable position of our forces there.
He was not of the opinion that the enemy would attack the center, our
artillery had such sweep there, and this was not the favorite point of
attack with the Rebel. Besides, should he attack the center, the General
thought he could reinforce it in good season. I heard Gen. Meade speak
of these matters to Hancock and some others, at about nine o'clock in
the morning, while they were up by the line, near the Second Corps.
No further changes of importance except those mentioned, were made in
the disposition of the troops this morning, except to replace some of
the batteries that were disabled yesterday by others from the artillery
reserve, and to brace up the lines well with guns wherever there were
eligible places, from the same source. The line is all in good order
again, and we are ready for general battle.
Save the operations upon the right, the enemy so far as we could see,
was very quiet all the morning. Occasionally the outposts would fire a
little, and then cease. Movements would be discovered which would
indicate the attempt on the part of the enemy to post a battery. Our
Parrotts would send a few shells to the spot, then silence would follow.
At one of these times a painful accident happened to us, this morning.
First Lieut. Henry Ropes, 20th Mass., in Gen. Gibbon's Division, a most
estimable gentleman and officer, intelligent, educated, refined, one of
the noble souls that came to the country's defense, while lying at his
post with his regiment, in front of one of the Batteries, which fired
over the Infantry, was instantly killed by a badly made shell, which, or
some portion of it, fell but a few yards in front of the muzzle of the
gun. The same accident killed or wounded several others. The loss of
Ropes would have pained us at any time, and in any manner; in this
manner his death was doubly painful.
Between ten and eleven o'clock, over in a peach orchard in front of the
position of Sickles yesterday, some little show of the enemy's infantry
was discovered; a few shells scattered the gray-backs; they again
appeared, and it becoming apparent that they were only posting a
skirmish line, no further molestation was offered them. A little after
this some of the enemy's flags could be discerned over near the same
quarter, above the top and behind a small crest of a ridge. There seemed
to be two or three of them--possibly they were guidons--and they moved
too fast to be carried on foot. Possibly, we thought, the enemy is
posting some batteries there. We knew in about two hours from this time
better about the matter. Eleven o'clock came. The noise of battle has
ceased upon the right; not a sound of a gun or musket can be heard on
all the field; the sky is bright, with only the white fleecy clouds
floating over from the West. The July sun streams down its fire upon the
bright iron of the muskets in stacks upon the crest, and the dazzling
brass of the Napoleons. The army lolls and longs for the shade, of which
some get a hand's breadth, from a shelter tent stuck upon a ramrod. The
silence and sultriness of a July noon are supreme. Now it so happened
that just about this time of day a very original and interesting thought
occurred to Gen. Gibbon and several of his staff; that it would be a
very good thing, and a very good time, to have something to eat. When I
announce to you that I had not tasted a mouthful of food since yesterday
noon, and that all I had had to drink since that time, but the most
miserable muddy warm water, was a little drink of whiskey that Major
Biddle, General Meade's aide-de-camp, gave me last evening, and a cup of
strong coffee that I gulped down as I was first mounting this morning,
and further, that, save the four or five hours in the night, there was
scarcely a moment since that time but that I was in the saddle, you may
have some notion of the reason of my assent to this extraordinary
proposition. Nor will I mention the doubts I had as to the feasibility
of the execution of this very novel proposal, except to say that I knew
this morning that our larder was low; not to put too fine a point upon
it, that we had nothing but some potatoes and sugar and coffee in the
world. And I may as well say here, that of such, in scant proportion,
would have been our repast, had it not been for the riding of miles by
two persons, one an officer, to procure supplies; and they only
succeeded in getting some few chickens, some butter, and one huge loaf
of bread, which last was bought of a soldier, because he had grown faint
in carrying it, and was afterwards rescued with much difficulty and
after a long race from a four-footed hog, which had got hold of and had
actually eaten a part of it. "There is a divinity," etc. Suffice it,
this very ingenious and unheard of contemplated proceeding, first
announced by the General, was accepted and at once undertaken by his
staff. Of the absolute quality of what we had to eat, I could not
pretend to judge, but I think an unprejudiced person would have said of
the bread that it was good; so of the potatoes before they were boiled.
Of the chickens he would have questioned their age, but they were large
and in good _running_ order. The toast was good, and the butter. There
were those who, when coffee was given them, called for tea, and vice
versa, and were so ungracious as to suggest that the water that was used
in both might have come from near a barn. Of course it did not. We all
came down to the little peach orchard where we had stayed last night,
and, wonderful to see and tell, ever mindful of our needs, had it all
ready, had our faithful John. There was an enormous pan of stewed
chickens, and the potatoes, and toast, all hot, and the bread and the
butter, and tea and coffee. There was satisfaction derived from just
naming them all over. We called John an angel, and he snickered and said
he "knowed" we'd come. General Hancock is of course invited to partake,
and without delay we commence operations. Stools are not very numerous,
two in all, and these the two Generals have by common consent. Our table
was the top of a mess chest. By this the Generals sat. The rest of us
sat upon the ground, cross-legged, like the picture of a smoking Turk,
and held our plates upon our laps. How delicious was the stewed chicken.
I had a cucumber pickle in my saddle bags, the last of a lunch left
there two or three days ago, which George brought, and I had half of it.
We were just well at it when General Meade rode down to us from the
line, accompanied by one of his staff, and by General Gibbon's
invitation, they dismounted and joined us. For the General commanding
the Army of the Potomac George, by an effort worthy of the person and
the occasion, finds an empty cracker box for a seat. The staff officer
must sit upon the ground with the rest of us. Soon Generals Newton and
Pleasonton, each with an aide, arrive. By an almost superhuman effort a
roll of blankets is found, which, upon a pinch, is long enough to seat
these Generals both, and room is made for them. The aides sit with us.
And, fortunate to relate, there was enough cooked for us all, and from
General Meade to the youngest second lieutenant we all had a most hearty
and well relished dinner. Of the "past" we were "secure." The Generals
ate, and after, lighted cigars, and under the flickering shade of a very
small tree, discoursed of the incidents of yesterday's battle and of the
probabilities of to-day. General Newton humorously spoke of General
Gibbon as "this young North Carolinian," and how he was becoming
arrogant and above his position, because he commanded a corps. General
Gibbon retorted by saying that General Newton had not been long enough
in such a command, only since yesterday, to enable him to judge of such
things. General Meade still thought that the enemy would attack his
left again to-day towards evening; but he was ready for them. General
Hancock thought that the attack would be upon the position of the Second
Corps. It was mentioned that General Hancock would again assume command
of the Second Corps from that time, so that General Gibbon would again
return to the Second Division.
General Meade spoke of the Provost Guards, that they were good men, and
that it would be better to-day to have them in the works than to stop
stragglers and skulkers, as these latter would be good for but little
even in the works; and so he gave the order that all the Provost Guards
should at once temporarily rejoin their regiments. Then General Gibbon
called up Captain Farrel, First Minnesota, who commanded the provost
guard of his division, and directed him for that day to join the
regiment. "Very well, sir," said the Captain, as he touched his hat and
turned away. He was a quiet, excellent gentleman and thorough soldier. I
knew him well and esteemed him. I never saw him again. He was killed in
two or three hours from that time, and over half of his splendid
company were either killed or wounded.
And so the time passed on, each General now and then dispatching some
order or message by an officer or orderly, until about half-past twelve,
when all the Generals, one by one, first General Meade, rode off their
several ways, and General Gibbon and his staff alone remained.
We dozed in the heat, and lolled upon the ground, with half open eyes.
Our horses were hitched to the trees munching some oats. A great lull
rests upon all the field. Time was heavy, and for want of something
better to do, I yawned, and looked at my watch. It was five minutes
before one o'clock. I returned my watch to its pocket, and thought
possibly that I might go to sleep, and stretched myself upon the ground
accordingly. _Ex uno disce omnes._ My attitude and purpose were those of
the General and the rest of the staff.