Gettysburg Continued--Pickett's Charge.
The next morning, July the 3rd, the sun rose bright and clear. Rations
were brought to the men by details, who, after marching and fighting
all day, had to hunt up the supply train, draw rations and cook for
their companies for the next day--certainly a heavy burden on two men,
the usual detail from each company.
No one could conjecture what the next move would be, but the army felt
a certainty that Lee would not yield to a drawn battle without, at
least, another attempt to break Meade's front. Either the enemy would
attempt to take an advantage of our yesterday's repulse and endeavor
to break our lines, crush Lee by doubling him back on the Potomac,
or that Lee would undertake the accomplishment of the work of the day
before. After the heavy battle of yesterday and the all night's march
preceding, the soldiers felt little like renewing the fight of to-day,
still there was no despondency, no lack of ardor, or morale, each
and every soldier feeling, while he had done his best the day before,
still he was equal to that before him for to-day.
In the First Corps all was still and quiet, scarcely a shot from
either side, a picket shot occasionally was the only reminder that the
enemy was near.
Away to our left, and beyond the city, the Federals had assaulted
Ewell's lines, and a considerable battle was raging from daylight till
10 o'clock.
The enemy were endeavoring to regain some of the trenches they had
lost two days before.
General Pickett, who had been left at Chambersburg, had now come up
with his three Virginia Brigades, Garnett's, Kemper's, and Armstead's,
(Jenkins being left in Virginia) and was putting them in position for
his famous charge.
While this has no real connection with the work in hand, still, since
the "Charge of Pickett," has gone in song and story, as the most
gallant, dashing, and bloody of modern times, I am tempted here to
digress somewhat, and give, as far as I am able, an impartial account
of this memorable combat, being an eye witness. While Pickett led
the storming party, in person, still the planning and details were
entrusted to another head, namely, General Longstreet. In justice to
him I will say he was opposed to this useless sacrifice of life and
limb. In his memoirs he tells how he pleaded with Lee, to relieve him
from the responsibility of command, and when the carnage was at its
zenith, riding through the hail from three hundred cannons and shells
bursting under and over him, the Old Chieftain says, "I raised my eyes
heavenward and prayed that one of these shots might lay me low and
relieve me from this awful responsibility." While I would, by no word,
or intimation detract one iota from the justly earned fame of the
great Virginian, nor the brave men under him, still it is but equal
justice to remember and record that there were other Generals and
troops from other States as justly meritorious and deserving of honor
as participants in the great charge, as Pickett and his Virginians.
On the day before, Kershaw, in the battle before little "Round Top,"
Semmes to the right, Wofford and Barksdale in front of the peach
orchard and up the deadly gorge around Little Round Top to say nothing
of Hood at Round Top, charged and held in close battle, two thirds
of the Army of the Potomac, without any support whatever. See now how
Pickett was braced and supported. Cemetery Ridge was a long ridge
of considerable elevation, on which, and behind it the enemy was
marshalled in mass; opposite this ridge was another of less eminence,
and one mile, or near so, distant, behind which the Confederates were
concentrating for the assault. Longstreet moved McLaws up near to the
right of the assaulting columns in two lines, Semmes and Wofford in
the front and Barksdale and Kershaw in the rear lines as support. I
continue to retain the names of the Brigade Commanders to designate
the troops, although Barksdale and Semmes had fallen the day before.
Kemper and Garnett were on the right of the assaulting column, with
Armstead as support, all Virginians and of Pickett's Division.
Wilcox, with his Alabama Brigade was to move some distance in rear of
Pickett's right to take any advantage of the break in the line, and
to protect Pickett's flank. On the left of Pickett, and on the line of
attack was Heath's Division, commanded by General Pettigrew, composed
of Archer's Brigade, of Alabama and Tennesseeans, Pettigrew's, North
Carolina, Brockenborro's, Virginia, and Davis' Brigade, composed of
three Mississippi Regiments and one North Carolina, with Scales' and
Lanes' North Carolina Brigade in support. Hood and McLaws guarding
the right and A.P. Hill the left. I repeat it, was there ever an
assaulting column better braced or supported?
General Alexander had charge of the artillery at this point, and the
gunners along the whole line were standing to their pieces, ready to
draw the lanyards that were to set the opposite hills ablaze with shot
and shell, the moment the signal was given.
Every man, I dare say, in both armies held his breath in anxious
and feverish suspense, awaiting the awful crash. The enemy had been
apprised of the Confederate movements, and were prepared for the
shock.
When all was ready the signal gun was fired, and almost simultaneously
one hundred and fifty guns belched forth upon the enemy's works, which
challenge was readily accepted by Meade's cannoneers, and two hundred
shrieking shells made answer to the Confederate's salute. Round after
round were fired in rapid succession from both sides, the air above
seemed filled with shrieking, screaming, bursting shells. For a time
it looked as if the Heavens above had opened her vaults of thunder
bolts, and was letting them fall in showers upon the heads of mortals
below. Some would burst overhead, while others would go whizzing over
us and explode far in the rear. It was the intention of Lee to so
silence the enemy's batteries that the assaulting column would be rid
of this dangerous annoyance. Longstreet says of the opening of the
battle: "The signal guns broke the silence, the blaze of the second
gun, mingling in the smoke of the first, and salvos rolled to the
left and repeating themselves along the ridges the enemy's fine
metal spreading its fire to the converging lines of the Confederates,
plowing the trembling ground, plunging through the line of batteries
and clouding the heavy air. Two or three hundred guns seemed proud of
their undivided honors of organized confusion. The Confederates had
the benefit of converging fire into the enemy's massed position,
but the superior metal of the enemy neutralized the advantages of
position. The brave and steady work progressed."
After almost exhausting his ammunition, General Alexander sent a
message to General Pickett, "If you are coming, come at once, or I
cannot give you proper support. Ammunition nearly exhausted; eighteen
guns yet firing from the cemetery." This speaks volumes for our
artillerist, who had silenced over one hundred and fifty guns, only
eighteen yet in action, but these eighteen directly in front of
Pickett. Under this deadly cannonade, Pickett sprang to the assault.
Kemper and Garnett advanced over the crest, closely followed by
Armstead. Wilcox, with his Alabamians, took up the step and marched
a short distance in rear of the right. The Alabamians, Tennesseeans,
North Carolinians, and Virginians under Pettigrew lined up on
Pickett's left, followed by Trimble, with his two North Carolina
Brigades and the columns were off. The batteries on the ridges in
front now turned all their attention to this dreaded column of gray,
as soon as they had passed over the crest that up to this time had
concealed them. To the enemy even this grand moving body of the best
material in the world must have looked imposing as it passed in solid
phalanx over this broad expanse without scarcely a bush or tree to
screen it. And what must have been the feelings of the troops that
were to receive this mighty shock of battle? The men marched with firm
step, with banners flying, the thunder of our guns in rear roaring and
echoing to cheer them on, while those of the enemy were sweeping wind
rows through their ranks. McLaws was moved up nearer the enemy's
lines to be ready to reap the benefit of the least signs of success.
Brockenborro and Davis were keeping an easy step with Kemper and
Garnett, but their ranks were being thinned at every advance. Great
gaps were mown out by the bursting of shells while the grape and
canister caused the soldiers to drop by ones, twos and sections along
the whole line. Men who were spectators of this carnage, held their
breath in horror, while others turned away from the sickening scene,
in pitying silence. General Trimble was ordered to close up and fill
the depleted ranks, which was done in splendid style, and on the
assaulting columns sped.
Trimble had fallen, Garnett was killed, with Kemper and Gibbon being
borne from the field more dead than alive. At last the expected crash
came, when infantry met infantry. Pickett's right strikes Hancock's
center, then a dull, sullen roar told too well that Greek had met
Greek. Next came Davis, then Brockenborro, followed on the left by
Archer's and Pettigrew's Brigade, and soon all was engulfed in the
smoke of battle and lost to sight. Such a struggle could not last
long for the tension was too great. The Confederates had driven in the
first line, but Meade's whole army was near, and fresh battalions
were being momentarily ordered to the front. The enemy now moved out
against Pickett's right, but Semmes and Wofford of McLaws' Division
were there to repulse them.
For some cause, no one could or ever will explain, Pickett's Brigades
wavered at a critical moment, halted, hesitated, then the battle
was lost. Now began a scene that is as unpleasant to record as it
is sickening to contemplate. When Pickett saw his ruin, he ordered a
retreat and then for a mile or more these brave men, who had dared
to march up to the cannon's mouth with twenty thousand infantry lying
alongside, had to race across this long distance with Meade's united
artillery playing upon them, while the twenty thousand rifles were
firing upon their rear as they ran.
Pettigrew's Division, which was clinging close to the battle, saw the
disaster that had befallen the gallant Virginians, then in turn
they, too, fled the field and doubling up on Lane and Scales, North
Carolinians, made "confusion worse confounded." This flying mass
of humanity only added another target for the enemy's guns and an
additional number to the death roll.
Alexander's batteries, both of position, and the line now turned loose
with redoubled energy on those of the enemy's to relieve, as far as
possible, our defeated, flying, and demoralized troops. For a few
moments (which seemed like days to the defeated) it looked as if all
nature's power and strength were turned into one mighty upheaval;
Vessuvius, Etna, and Popocatepetl were emptying their mighty torrents
upon the heads of the unfortunate Confederates. Men fell by the
hundreds, officers ceased to rally them until the cover of the ridge
was reached. The hills in front were ablaze from the flashes of near
two hundred guns, while the smoke from almost as many on our lines
slowly lifted from the ridge behind us, showing one continued sheet of
flames, the cannoneers working their guns as never before. The earth
seemed to vibrate and tremble under the recoil of these hundreds of
guns, while the air overhead was filled with flying shells. Not
a twinkling of the eye intervened between the passing of shots or
shells. The men who were not actively engaged became numbed and a
dull heavy sleep overcame them as they lay under this mighty unnatural
storm, shells falling short came plowing through the ground, or
bursting prematurely overhead, with little or no effect upon the
slumberers, only a cry of pain as one and another received a wound or
a death shot from the flying fragments. The charge of Pickett is over,
the day is lost, and men fall prone upon the earth to catch breath
and think of the dreadful ordeal just passed and of the many hundreds
lying between them and the enemy's line bleeding, dying without hope
or succor.
Farnsworth, of Kilpatrick's Cavalry, had been watching the fray from
our extreme right, where Hood had stationed scattered troops to watch
his flank, and when the Union General saw through the mountain gorges
and passes the destruction of Pickett he thought his time for action
had come. The battle-scarred war horses snuffed the blood and smoke
of battle from afar, and champed their bits in anxious impatience.
The troopers looked down the line and met the stern faces of their
comrades adjusting themselves to their saddles and awaiting the signal
for the charge. Farnsworth awaits no orders, and when he saw the wave
of Pickett's recede he gave the command to "Charge," and his five
hundred troopers came thundering down upon our detachments on the
extreme right. But Farnsworth had to ride over and between the Fourth,
Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Alabama Regiments, the Eleventh Georgia and
the First Texas, and it is needless to add, his ride was a rough and
disastrous one. Farnsworth, after repeated summons to surrender, fell,
pierced with five wounds, and died in a few moments. His troopers
who had escaped death or capture fled to the gorges and passes of
the mountains through which they had so recently ridden in high
expectation.
The enemy, as well as the Confederates, had lost heavily in general
officers. Hancock had fallen from his horse, shot through the side
with a minnie ball, disabling him for a long time. General Dan
Sickles, afterwards military Governor of South Carolina, lost a leg.
General Willard was killed. Generals Newton, Gibbon, Reynolds, Barlow
were either killed or wounded, with many other officers of note in the
Federal Army.
The soldier is not the cold unfeeling, immovable animal that some
people seem to think he is. On the contrary, and paradoxical as it may
appear, he is warm-hearted, sympathetic, and generous spirited and his
mind often reverts to home, kindred, and friends, when least expected.
His love and sympathy for his fellow-soldier is proverbial in the
army. In the lull, of battle, or on its eve, men with bold hearts and
strong nerves look each other in the face with grim reliance. With
set teeth and nerve's strung to extreme tension, the thoughts of the
soldier often wander to his distant home. The panorama of his whole
life passes before him in vivid colors. His first thoughts are of the
great beyond--all soldiers, whatever their beliefs or dogmas, think
of this. It is natural, it is right, it is just to himself. He sees in
his imagination the aged father or mother or the wife and little ones
with outstretched arms awaiting the coming of him who perhaps will
never come. These are some of the sensations and feelings of a soldier
on the eve of, or in battle, or at its close. It is no use denying it,
all soldiers feel as other people do, and when a soldier tells as a
fact that he "went into battle without fear," he simply tells "what
George Washington never told." It is human, and "self-preservation
is the first law of nature." No one wants to die. Of course ambition,
love of glory, the plaudits of your comrades and countrymen, will
cause many a blade to flash where otherwise it would not. But every
soldier who reads this will say that this is honest and the whole
truth. I am writing a truthful history of the past and honesty forces
me to this confession. "All men are cowards" in the face of death.
Pride, ambition, a keen sense of duty, will make differences
outwardly, but the heart is a coward still when death stares the
possessor in the face. Men throw away their lives for their country's
sake, or for honor or duty like a cast off garment and laugh at death,
but this is only a sentiment, for all men want to live. I write so
much to controvert the rot written in history and fiction of soldiers
anxious to rush headlong into eternity on the bayonets of the enemy.
Historians of all time will admit the fact that at Gettysburg was
fought a battle, not a skirmish, but it was not what Northern writers
like to call it, "Lee's Waterloo." The Wilderness, Spottsylvania, and
Petersburg were yet to come.
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