GETTYSBURG AFTERMATH
Retrospective--Invasion of Pennsylvania--Some characteristics--Pickett
and perfumery--An acquisition--The inhabitants, Pennsylvania
Dutch--Their cookery--Colonel Freemantle's activity--Figures as
to strength and losses--Lieutenant Dawson--A curious meeting--The
sweating soldier--Death of Captain Fraser.
The invasion of Pennsylvania had many features of interest to our army.
The country itself contrasted greatly with our own. It was rolling in
plenty, high cultivation was apparent on all sides, and the ripening
wheat stood tall and golden. General Lee's orders caused it to be well
protected, and there was not much looting. The people seemed a queer
lot. Hostile looks and imprecations were constantly leveled at the
good-natured Southerners footing it amid such new scenes. The cherries
were ripe and the trees bending with delicious fruit. I recall one
especial tree near Chambersburg that seemed beyond all others to tempt
me. Sitting quietly in saddle, branch after branch was gently drawn
down to the rider's thirsty lips almost to repletion, and good is the
recollection even to this present day. The roads were magnificent
in our eyes--metaled macadams, bearing the heaviest loads, and well
drained and graded. The animals were nearly all for farm use, great
lumbering, powerful horses, capable of enormous draughts on those hard
roads, but quite impossible to do anything out of a heavy walk. We
thought to renew some of our quartermaster's and cavalry mounts from
this source and a few horses were got across the river. They proved
useless and were soon abandoned. As we marched, the people were drawn
to the roadside arrayed in their Sunday best, gazing viciously at the
invaders. All work in town and country had stopped. Chambersburg being
quite a town, was subject to requisition, which did not, I think, yield
much.
We "persuaded," however, the principal shopkeepers to keep open, and
they displayed some of their wares, doubtless old or unsalable stuff
that they could not hide. Everything was strictly paid for in our
national currency--Confederate bills!
I did get something, however. Our good commissary, Major Moses, managed
to secure (by payment, of course) a bolt of excellent velveteen,
wearing quite as well as corduroy. Indeed, he got some of the latter
also, and sent the plunder to our headquarters, where the stuff went
around sufficiently to give me a coat and trousers, which did good
service, I think, till the end of things. He also managed to get a few
felt hats, and deserved more, for he was grumbling furiously at the
ill success of his important requisition for cash, stores, and army
supplies; also for the sound rating and liberal abuse he had taken from
the irate females in furious rage at his work.
Lee and Longstreet were bivouacked near by in a beautiful grove of
large trees not far from town. They both had many visits from citizens,
generally with some trumped-up complaint as a means of seeing the two
celebrated soldiers.
The women of the country were a hard-featured lot. The population,
principally Pennsylvania Dutch, are an ignorant offshoot of a certain
class of Germans long settled there.
Many can speak no English. A hard-working, thrifty class, with, it
seems, no thought but for their big horses and barns, huge road-wagons
like ships at sea, and the weekly baking, and apple-butter. This last
appeared to be their staple food. On the morning of the 3d, already
mentioned, waking in my fence-corner, I took thought of breakfast and
sent my man to an abandoned farm-house near by. The terrible shell and
musketry fire of the previous day had driven off the owners hurriedly,
for safety. But here was food galore. My soldier came back loaded with
loaves of well-baked bread and jars of apple-butter--a week's baking
of the bread, and the abominable butter once a year, I suppose. It did
for once or so when very hungry, but I don't call it a nice breakfast
anywhere.
The drain of war had not here shown itself--none of the men out of
this populous region seemed to have gone to the front. There was no
need. The Government, the State, counties, towns, and villages were
all paying great bounties for the substitutes. The drafted man was
serving at home, and there was joy at so much money among the foreign
mercenaries brought over by the rich Northern and Eastern States, and
among the ever-present and agile bounty-jumpers, who were indeed making
their golden harvest.
Our British friend, Colonel Freemantle, was bound to see everything.
During one of the hottest hours of fire he climbed a tree with great
agility, and notwithstanding I bawled to him to come down, there he
stuck with his binoculars. He was a very small, slight man, wiry, and
much enduring. I don't believe he changed his clothing or boots while
with us, and I never saw him use a note-book or any scrap of paper as
an aid to memory, and yet his book puts down things with much accuracy.
In this great campaign and battle the numbers and casualties and lists
may be fairly accepted as follows: Col. W. H. Taylor's figures as to
strength--Army of the Potomac, of all arms, 105,000; Army of Northern
Virginia, of all arms, 63,000 or say 50,000 infantry, 8,000 cavalry,
5,000 artillery.
His figures are about right as to the Army of Northern Virginia. They
would be verified by those of our own corps.
Confederate losses, 2,292 killed; 12,709 wounded; 5,150 missing.
It was about this time that Lieut. F. W. Dawson, C. S. Artillery,
reported to our corps for duty. A few words of the career of this young
man may not be without interest. He was an Englishman of university
education, able and capable. He had come to see hard service. Colonel
Manning, chief of ordnance, wanting some assistance at that time, I
assigned Dawson to do duty with the ordnance train. He was thoroughly
competent, and made himself indispensable to Manning, whose taste took
him more to adventures in the field. Dawson was made captain and also
acquitted himself well under fire. With return of peace I lost sight of
him until a year or two later he turned up as the able and aggressive
editor and part proprietor of a leading newspaper of Charleston,
South Carolina, and had reason to call for my help in a dangerous
crisis. He was strongly on the respectable white side in the dark days
of reconstruction, was bold and unflinching, showed extraordinary
abilities, made many friends, married, and was assassinated at the very
height of an adventurous career.
This is curious in the way of happenings. It has been mentioned that
the soldier who passed the night at Fredericksburg with me inside the
enemy's lines was Private Jesse Beall. It has not been said, though,
that my staff comrade and friend, Manning, had been desperately
assailed, stabbed almost to death, by a fellow-student at the Georgia
Military Institute. Manning recovered after long care, spoke only once,
even to me, of what had happened, and then with a curious tension of
feature. Another time we were riding together across fallow fields
near camp, when a soldier came out, saluting us, and asked to speak
with Colonel Manning. On rejoining me, Manning's face was set and
deathly pale. "Sorrel," he said, "that was the man who came so near
murdering me. I had sworn to kill him on sight, and it was all I could
do to stop myself while he stood by my horse. But he had a tale, and I
believed him. It was remorse and horror of his deed. He humbly begged
my forgiveness. Nothing else would content him, and I yielded to the
man's suffering and evident sincerity. I gave him my hand in parting,
but never do I wish to see him again." It was Jesse Beall, Manning's
assailant, and my man of the batteau. He was afterwards killed in
battle.
On a hot day's march across the river, General Lee, Longstreet, and
their people had made a short midday halt in a little rising grove by
the roadside, where we found a spring to wash down our soldier's fare.
It was the hottest of July days, and the troops were moving by in long
column, listlessly, and suffering from the heat. Soon I saw one of
the men leave the ranks and approach General Lee. Some one tried to
stop him, but the General kindly encouraged his coming forward. He was
a stout, well-built soldier, equal to any work, but sweating awfully.
"What is it you want?" said Lee. "Please, General, I don't want much,
but it's powerful wet marching this weather. I can't see for the water
in my eyes. I came aside to this old hill to get a rag or _something_
to wipe the sweat out of my eyes." "Will this do?" said the General,
handkerchief in hand. "Yes, _my Lordy_, that indeed!" broke out the
soldier. "Well, then take it with you, and back quick to ranks; no
straggling this march, you know, my man."
Lee's talk and manner with the soldier were inimitable in their
encouraging kindness. It is only a single little example of what he was
with them.
At Gettysburg, on the 3d, I lost another dear personal friend, Captain
John C. Fraser, of Georgia, commanding a battery of artillery. He was
working it most effectively in action when struck down. Only a few days
before he made me a visit, and noticing his very bad hat, I sent him
off rejoicing in one of the felts Major Moses had given us. Then it
pillowed his shattered head.