IN THE GETTYSBURG CAMPAIGN
After one day of rest from the fatigues of the reconnoissance referred
to in the previous chapter, at two o'clock Thursday morning, June 25,
the bugles sounded "To Horse," and we bade a final adieu to the places
which had known us in that part of the theater of war. The division
moved out at daylight. The head of column turned toward Edwards Ferry,
on the Potomac river, where Baker fell in 1861. The Sixth was detailed
as rear guard. The march was slow, the roads being blocked with wagons,
artillery, ambulances, and the other usual impedimenta of a body of
troops in actual service, for it was then apparent that the whole army
was moving swiftly into Maryland.
At Vienna the regiment stopped to feed, not being able to move while
"waiting for the wagon;" in other words, until all other troops had
cleared the way for the rear guard. Vienna was not far from Camp-meeting
Hill, so Captain Weber and I obtained permission to ride over and call
on our friends in that neighborhood, intending to overtake the regiment
at noon. This ride took us two or three miles off the road on which the
various commands were marching.
Camp-meeting Hill looked like a deserted village, with no soldiers near
and no sign of war. We found our friends rather blue at the thought of
being abandoned and, as good-by was said, it was with a feeling that we
might never meet again. Weber, gallant as ever, waved his hand to the
ladies as he rode away, calling back in a cheery voice that he would
come again, "when this cruel war is over." Resuming our journey, a
little apprehensive of encountering some of Mosby's men, we were
fortunate enough to meet ten troopers of the First Michigan going across
the country to join the division. Hurrying on through Dranesville, at a
little before noon we overtook the Fifth Michigan cavalry, from whom we
learned that we were up with the advance and that our own regiment was
far in rear. Selecting a comfortable place, we unsaddled our horses and
lighting our pipes, threw ourselves down on the green grass, and for
hours sat waiting while mile after mile of army wagons and artillery
passed. Most of the infantry had gone on the day before, but I remember
distinctly seeing a portion of the Twelfth corps, en route. I recall
especially General A.S. ("Pap") Williams and General Geary, both of whom
commanded divisions in that corps. At six o'clock in the evening we went
to a farm house and had a supper prepared but had not had time to pay
our respects to it when by the aid of my field glass I saw the advance
of the regiment coming. It was the rear guard of a column that was seven
hours passing a given point.
It was after dark when the regiment reached the ford at Edwards Ferry.
The night was cloudy and there was no moon. The river was nearly, if not
quite, a mile wide, the water deep and the current strong. The only
guide to the proper course was to follow those in advance; but, as horse
succeeded horse, they were gradually borne farther and farther down the
stream, away from the ford and into deeper water. By the time the Sixth
reached the river the water was nearly to the tops of the saddles.
Marching thus through the inky darkness, guided mostly by the sound of
plashing hoofs in front, there was imminent danger of being swept away
and few, except the most reckless, drew a long breath until the distance
had been traversed and our steeds were straining up the slippery bank
upon the opposite shore.
Safely across the river, the column did not halt for rest or food, but
pushed on into Maryland. To add to the discomfort, a drizzling rain set
in. The guide lost his way, and it was two o'clock in the morning when
the rear guard halted for a brief bivouac in a piece of woods, near
Poolesville. Wet, weary, hungry and chilled, as they were, it was enough
to dispirit the bravest men. But there was no murmuring, and at
daylight, the march was resumed.
That day (26) we passed the First army corps, commanded by the lamented
Reynolds, and reached the village of Frederick as the sun was setting.
The clouds had cleared away, and a more enchanting vision never met
human eye than that which appeared before us as we debouched from the
narrow defile up which the road from lower Maryland ran, on the
commanding heights that overlooked the valley. The town was in the
center of a most charming and fertile country, and around it thousands
of acres of golden grain were waving in the sunlight. The rain of the
early morning had left in the atmosphere a mellow haze of vapor which
reflected the sun's rays in tints that softly blended with the summer
colorings of the landscape. An exclamation of surprise ran along the
column as each succeeding trooper came in sight of this picture of
Nature's own painting.
But more pleasing still, were the evidences of loyalty which greeted us
on every hand, as we entered the village. The stars and stripes floated
above many buildings, while from porch and window, from old and young,
came manifestations of welcome. The men received us with cheers, the
women with smiles and waving of handkerchiefs. That night we were
permitted to go into camp and enjoy a good rest, in the midst of plenty
and among friends.
On Saturday morning (27) much refreshed, with horses well fed and
groomed and haversacks replenished, the Fifth and Sixth moved on toward
Emmittsburg, the Seventh having gone through the Catoctin Valley by
another road. The march was through the camps of thousands of infantry
just starting in the same direction. Among the distinguished generals
who were leading the advance, I remember, particularly, Reynolds and
Doubleday. During the day it was a constant succession of fertile fields
and leafy woods. Commodious farm-houses on every hand and evidences of
plenty everywhere, we reveled in the richness and overflowing abundance
of the land. There were "oceans" of apple-butter and great loaves of
snow-white bread that "took the cake" over anything that came within the
range of my experience. These loaves were baked in brick ovens, out of
doors, and some of them looked as big as peck measures. A slice cut from
one of them and smeared thick with that delicious apple-butter, was a
feast fit for gods or men. And then the milk, and the oats for the
horses, and everything that hungry man or beast could wish for. Those
were fat days and that was a fat country, such as the Iraelitish scouts
who went over into the land of Canaan never looked upon or dreamed of.
To be sure we had to pay for what we had. Especially after we crossed
over into Pennsylvania among the frugal Dutch was this the case. But
their charges were not exorbitant, and so long as we had a dollar, it
was cheerfully parted with for their food. But it seemed a little hard
for the Michiganders to be there defending the homes of those opulent
farmers, while they, so far from taking up the musket to aid in driving
out the army that was invading their soil, were seemingly unwilling to
contribute a cent, though I may have misjudged them.
It looked odd, too, to see so many able-bodied men at home, pursuing
their ordinary avocations, with no thought of enlisting, while a hostile
army was at their very doors. It looked so to the soldiers who had been
serving in Virginia, and who knew that in the South, every man able to
bear arms was compelled to do so, and that within the lines of the
confederacy, the cradle and the grave were robbed to fill the ranks.
Lee, with a hundred thousand men was somewhere in that region, we knew
and they knew. We were searching for him and the time was close at hand
when the two armies must come into contact, and oceans of blood would
flow, before the confederates could be driven from Northern soil. The
government was calling loudly for reinforcements of short time men to
serve for the immediate emergency. Yet, these selfish farmers would
drive as sharp a bargain, and figure as closely on the weight and price
of an article supplied to the federal troops, as though they had never
heard of war. Indeed, I believe many of them knew little about what was
going on. Their world was the little Eden in which they passed their
daily lives--the neighborhood in which they lived. They were a happy and
bucolic people, contented to exist and accumulate, with no ambition
beyond that; and while loyal to the government, in the sense that they
obeyed its laws and would have scorned to enter into a conspiracy to
destroy it, yet they possessed little of that patriotism which inspires
men to serve and make sacrifices for their country.
On Sunday morning, June 28, 1863, the two regiments, having passed the
night in camp near the Pennsylvania line, resumed the march and passed
through the town of Emmittsburg. It was a little place, with scarce more
than a thousand inhabitants, but with several churches, an academy, an
institute for girls, and a little to the northeast Mount St. Mary's
college, a Catholic institution, founded in 1808. Like everything else,
thereabouts, it had a solid, substantial appearance.
So quiet was it, that it seemed like sacrilege to disturb the serenity
of that Sabbath day. The sanctuaries stood invitingly in the way, and
one could in fancy, almost hear the peal of the organ, as the choir
chanted, "Gloria in excelsis"--Glory be to God on high and on earth
peace, good will to men--and the voice of the preacher, as he read: "And
they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into
pruning-hooks."
But our mission was, if possible, to find out what Lee and Longstreet,
Ewell and Stuart were doing on that holy day. It required no prophet to
predict that it would not be to them a day of rest, but that they would
be more than ever active to carry out the schemes that for the federal
army meant great hurt and mischief. Little that was positive was known
of Lee's movements, but it was reported that he had pushed on north with
his whole army, and was now in dangerous proximity to Harrisburg. His
line of march had been to the west of Hooker's and as he was so far
north, it was evident that we were making directly for his
communications, in rear of his army. A tyro in the art of war could see
that much of the strategy that was going on. Would Lee allow that and go
on to Baltimore, or turn and meet the army that Hooker was massing
against him? That was the question.
Taking the Emmittsburg pike, Copeland with the two regiments pushed on
to Gettysburg. Thus it was, that the Fifth and Sixth Michigan regiments
of cavalry had the honor of being the first Union troops to enter the
place that was destined so soon to give its name to one of the great
battles of history. The road from Emmittsburg to Gettysburg ran between
Seminary Ridge on the left and Cemetery Ridge and Round Top on the
right. It was a turnpike, and as we marched over it one could not help
noticing the strategic importance of the commanding heights on either
side. I remember well the impression made on my mind at the time by the
rough country off to the right. This was Round Top and Little Round Top
where such desperate fighting was done three days later. We passed close
to the historic "Peach Orchard" and over the fish-hook shaped Cemetery
Hill at the bend; then descended into the town which nestled at the foot
of these rocky eminences.
Before we reached the town it was apparent that something unusual was
going on. It was a gala day. The people were out in force, and in their
Sunday attire to welcome the troopers in blue. The church bells rang
out a joyous peal, and dense masses of beaming faces filled the streets,
as the narrow column of fours threaded its way through their midst.
Lines of men stood on either side, with pails of water or apple-butter,
and passed a "sandwich" to each soldier as he passed. At intervals of a
few feet, were bevies of women and girls, who handed up bouquets and
wreaths of flowers. By the time the center of the town was reached,
every man had a bunch of flowers in his hand, or a wreath around his
neck. Some even had their horses decorated, and the one who did not get
a share was a very modest trooper, indeed. The people were overjoyed,
and received us with an enthusiasm and a hospitality born of full
hearts. They had seen enough of the gray to be anxious to welcome the
blue. Their throats grew hoarse with the cheers that they sent up in
honor of the coming of the Michigan cavalrymen. The freedom of the city
was extended. Every door stood open, or the latch-string hung invitingly
out.
Turning to the right, the command went into camp a little outside the
town, in a field where the horses were up to their knees in clover, and
it made the poor, famished animals fairly laugh. That night a squadron
was sent out about two miles to picket on each diverging road. It was my
duty with two troops ("E" and "H") to guard the "Cashtown" pike, and a
very vivid remembrance is yet retained of the "vigil long" of that July
night, during which I did not once leave the saddle, dividing the time
between the reserve post and the line of videttes. No enemy appeared,
however, and on Monday (June 29) the Michigan regiments returned to
Emmittsburg, the first cavalry division coming up to take their place in
Gettysburg. In this way it came to pass that heroic John Buford, instead
of the Fifth and Sixth Michigan, had the honor of meeting the
confederate advance on July first.
Before leaving Gettysburg it was learned that many changes had taken
place.[8] Hooker had been succeeded in command of the army by Meade, one
of the best and most favorably known of the more prominent generals. It
looked like "swapping horses when crossing a stream." Something that
touched us more closely, however, was the tidings that Stahel and
Copeland had been relieved and that Judson Kilpatrick, colonel of the
Second New York (Harris Light) cavalry had been promoted to brigadier
general and assigned to command of the Third division, by which
designation it was thenceforth to be known. He was a West Pointer, had
the reputation of being a hard fighter, and was known as "The hero of
Middleburg." Captain Custer of Pleasanton's staff had also received a
star and was to command the Michigan brigade, to be designated as the
Second brigade, Third division, cavalry corps, army of the Potomac. Of
him we knew but little except that he hailed from Monroe, Michigan, was
a graduate of West Point, had served with much credit on the staffs of
McClellan and Pleasanton, and that he, too, was a "fighter." None of us
had ever seen either of them. General Copeland turned the two regiments
over to Colonel Gray and went away with his staff. I never saw him
afterwards.
The Michigan brigade[9] had been strengthened by adding the First
Michigan cavalry, a veteran regiment that had seen much service in the
Shenandoah valley under Banks, and the Second Bull Run campaign with
Pope. It was organized in 1861, and went out under Colonel T.F.
Brodhead, a veteran of the Mexican war, who was brevetted for gallantry
at Contreras and Cherubusco, while serving as lieutenant in the
Fifteenth United States infantry. He was mortally wounded August 30,
1862, at Bull Run. His successor was C.H. Town, then colonel of the
regiment. He also was severely wounded in the same charge wherein
Brodhead lost his life. There had also been added to the brigade light
battery "M", Second United States artillery, consisting of six rifled
pieces, and commanded by Lieutenant A.C.M. Pennington.
The Third division was now ordered to concentrate in the vicinity of
Littlestown, to head off Stuart, who, having made a detour around the
rear of the army of the Potomac, crossed the river below Edwards Ferry
on Sunday night, June 28, and with three brigades under Hampton,
Fitzhugh Lee and Chambliss, and a train of captured wagons, was moving
northward, looking for the army of Northern Virginia, between which and
himself was Meade's entire army. On Monday night he was in camp between
Union Mills and Westminster, on the Emmittsburg and Baltimore pike,
about equidistant from Emmittsburg and Gettysburg. Kilpatrick at
Littlestown would be directly on Stuart's path, the direction of the
latter's march indicating that he also was making for Littlestown, which
place is on a direct line from Union Mills to Gettysburg.
All day of Monday, June 29, the two regiments (Fifth and Sixth Michigan)
were scouting south and east of Gettysburg. Nor did the march end with
the day. All night we were plodding our weary way along, sleeping in the
saddle or, when the column in front would halt, every trooper
dismounting, and thrusting his arm through the bridle rein, would lie
down directly in front of his horse, in the road, and fall into a
profound slumber. The horses too would stand with drooping heads, noses
almost touching their riders' faces, eyes closed, nodding, but otherwise
giving no sign, and careful not to step on or injure the motionless
figures at their feet. The sound of horses' hoofs moving in front served
to arouse the riders when they would successively remount and move on
again.
On the morning of June 30, Kilpatrick's command was badly scattered. A
part of it, including the First and Seventh Michigan and Pennington's
battery, was at Abbottstown a few miles north of Hanover; Farnsworth's
brigade at Littlestown, seven miles southwest of Hanover. The Fifth and
Sixth Michigan arrived at Littlestown at daylight.
The early morning hours were consumed in scouring the country in all
directions, and information soon came in to the effect that Stuart was
moving toward Hanover. Farnsworth with the First brigade left
Littlestown for that place at about nine or ten o'clock in the forenoon.
The portion of the division that was in the vicinity of Abbottstown was
also ordered to Hanover. The Fifth and Sixth Michigan were left, for a
time, in Littlestown, troop "A" of the Sixth, under Captain Thompson,
going on a reconnoissance toward Westminster, and Colonel Alger with the
Fifth on a separate road.
The Sixth remained in the town until a citizen came running in, about
noon, reporting a large force of the enemy, about five miles out toward
Hanover. This was Fitzhugh Lee's brigade, and to understand the
situation, it will be necessary briefly to describe how Stuart was
marching. When he turned off the Baltimore pike, some seven miles
southeast of Littlestown, he had ten miles due north to travel before
reaching Hanover. From Littlestown to Hanover is seven miles, the road
running northeasterly, making the third side of a right-angled triangle.
Thus, Stuart had the longer distance to go, and Kilpatrick had no
difficulty in reaching Hanover first. Stuart marched with Chambliss
leading, Hampton in rear, the trains sandwiched between the two
brigades, and Fitzhugh Lee well out on the left flank to protect them.
Farnsworth marched through Hanover, followed by the pack trains of the
two regiments that had been left in Littlestown. The head of Stuart's
column arrived just in time to strike the rear of Farnsworth, which was
thrown into confusion by a charge of the leading confederate regiment.
The pack trains were cut off and captured. Farnsworth, however, dashing
back from the head of the column, faced the Fifth New York cavalry to
the rear, and by a counter charge, repulsed the North Carolinians and
put a stop to Stuart's further progress for that day.
In the meantime, when the citizen came in with the news of Fitzhugh
Lee's appearance, "To Horse" was sounded and Colonel Gray led the Sixth
Michigan on the Hanover road toward the point indicated. Several
citizens, with shot guns in their hands, were seen going on foot on the
flank of the column, trying to keep pace with the cavalry, and
apparently eager to participate in the expected battle. When within a
mile of Hanover, the regiment turned off into a wheatfield and, mounting
a crest beyond, came upon Fitzhugh Lee's brigade, with a section of
artillery in position, which opened upon the head of the regiment (then
moving in column of fours) with shell, wounding several men and horses.
Lieutenant Potter, of troop "C" had his horse shot under him. Had Gray
attacked vigorously he would have been roughly handled, probably, as
Fitzhugh Lee was on the field in person with his choice brigade of
Virginians. I have always believed, however, that a larger force with
the same opportunity might have made bad work for Lee.
Colonel Gray, seeing that the force in front of him were preparing to
charge, and aware that one raw regiment would be no match for a brigade
of veteran troops, made a detour to the left, and sought by a rapid
movement to unite with the command in Hanover, Major Weber with troops
"B" and "F" being entrusted with the important duty of holding the enemy
in check while the others effected their retreat. Right gallantly was
this duty performed. Three charges upon the little band were as often
repulsed by the heroic Weber, and with such determination did he hold to
the work, that he was cut off and did not succeed in rejoining the
regiment until about three o'clock the next morning. Colonel Alger with
the Fifth and troop "A" of the Sixth, under Captain H.E. Thompson, also
had a smart encounter with the same force, holding their own against
much superior numbers by the use of the Spencer repeating rifles with
which they were armed.
By noon, or soon after, the entire division united in the village of
Hanover. The First, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Michigan regiments and
Pennington's battery were all on the ground near the railroad station.
The confederate line of battle could be distinctly seen on the hills to
the south of the town. The command to dismount to fight on foot was
given. The number one, two and three men dismounted and formed in line
to the right facing the enemy. The number four men remained with the
horses which were taken away a short distance to the rear.
It was here that the brigade first saw Custer. As the men of the Sixth,
armed with their Spencer rifles, were deploying forward across the
railroad into a wheatfield beyond, I heard a voice new to me, directly
in rear of the portion of the line where I was, giving directions for
the movement, in clear, resonant tones, and in a calm, confident manner,
at once resolute and reassuring. Looking back to see whence it came, my
eyes were instantly riveted upon a figure only a few feet distant, whose
appearance amazed if it did not for the moment amuse me. It was he who
was giving the orders. At first, I thought he might be a staff
officer, conveying the commands of his chief. But it was at once
apparent that he was giving orders, not delivering them, and that he was
in command of the line.
[Illustration: GEORGE A. CUSTER (IN 1863)]
Looking at him closely, this is what I saw: An officer superbly mounted
who sat his charger as if to the manor born. Tall, lithe, active,
muscular, straight as an Indian and as quick in his movements, he had
the fair complexion of a school girl. He was clad in a suit of black
velvet, elaborately trimmed with gold lace, which ran down the outer
seams of his trousers, and almost covered the sleeves of his cavalry
jacket. The wide collar of a blue navy shirt was turned down over the
collar of his velvet jacket, and a necktie of brilliant crimson was tied
in a graceful knot at the throat, the long ends falling carelessly in
front. The double rows of buttons on his breast were arranged in groups
of twos, indicating the rank of brigadier general. A soft, black hat
with wide brim adorned with a gilt cord, and rosette encircling a silver
star, was worn turned down on one side giving him a rakish air. His
golden hair fell in graceful luxuriance nearly or quite to his
shoulders, and his upper lip was garnished with a blonde mustache. A
sword and belt, gilt spurs and top boots completed his unique outfit.
A keen eye would have been slow to detect in that rider with the flowing
locks and gaudy tie, in his dress of velvet and of gold, the master
spirit that he proved to be. That garb, fantastic as at first sight it
appeared to be, was to be the distinguishing mark which, during all the
remaining years of that war, like the white plume of Henry of Navarre,
was to show us where, in the thickest of the fight, we were to seek our
leader--for, where danger was, where swords were to cross, where Greek
met Greek, there was he, always. Brave but not reckless; self-confident,
yet modest; ambitious, but regulating his conduct at all times by a high
sense of honor and duty; eager for laurels, but scorning to wear them
unworthily; ready and willing to act, but regardful of human life; quick
in emergencies, cool and self-possessed, his courage was of the highest
moral type, his perceptions were intuitions. Showy like Murat, fiery
like Farnsworth, yet calm and self-reliant like Sheridan, he was the
most brilliant and successful cavalry officer of his time. Such a man
had appeared upon the scene, and soon we learned to utter with pride the
name of--Custer.
George A. Custer was, as all agree, the most picturesque figure of the
civil war. Yet his ability and services were never rightly judged by the
American people. It is doubtful if more than one of his superior
officers--if we except McClellan, who knew him only as a staff
subaltern--estimated him at his true value. Sheridan knew Custer for
what he was. So did the Michigan brigade and the Third cavalry division.
But, except by these, he was regarded as a brave, dashing, but reckless
officer who needed a guiding hand. Among regular army officers as a
class he cannot be said to have been a favorite. The meteoric rapidity
of his rise to the zenith of his fame and success, when so many of the
youngsters of his years were moving in the comparative obscurity of
their own orbits, irritated them. Stars of the first magnitude did not
appear often in the galaxy of military heroes. Custer was one of the
few.
The popular idea of Custer is a misconception. He was not a reckless
commander. He was not regardless of human life. No man could have been
more careful of the comfort and lives of his men. His heart was tender
as that of a woman. He was kind to his subordinates, tolerant of their
weaknesses, always ready to help and encourage them. He was brave as a
lion, fought as few men fought, but it was from no love of it. Fighting
was his business; and he knew that by that means alone could peace be
conquered. He was brave, alert, untiring, a hero in battle, relentless
in the pursuit of a beaten enemy, stubborn and full of resources on the
retreat. His tragic death at the Little Big Horn crowned his career with
a tragic interest that will not wane while history or tradition endure.
Hundreds of brave men shed tears when they heard of it--men who had
served under and learned to love him in the trying times of civil war.
I have always believed that some of the real facts of the battle of the
Little Big Horn were unknown. Probably the true version of the massacre
will remain a sealed book until the dead are called upon to give up
their secrets, though there are those who profess to believe that one
man at least is still living who knows the real story and that some day
he will tell it.
Certain it is that Custer never would have rushed deliberately on
destruction. If, for any reason, he had desired to end his own life, and
that is inconceivable, he would not have involved his friends and those
whose lives had been entrusted to his care in the final and terrible
catastrophe. He was not a reckless commander or one who would plunge
into battle with his eyes shut. He was cautious and wary, accustomed to
reconnoiter carefully and measure the strength of an enemy as accurately
as possible before attacking. More than once the Michigan brigade was
saved from disaster by Custer's caution. This may seem to many a
novel--to some an erroneous estimate of Custer's characteristics as a
military man. But it is a true one. It is an opinion formed by one who
had good opportunity to judge of him correctly. In one sense only is it
a prejudiced view. It is the judgment of a friend and a loyal one; it is
not that of an enemy or a rival. As such it is appreciative and it is
just.
Under his skilful hand the four regiments were soon welded into a
coherent unit, acting so like one man that the history of one is
oftentimes apt to be the history of the other, and it is difficult to
draw the line where the credit that is due to one leaves off and that
which should be given to another begins.
[Illustration: GEORGE A. CUSTER (IN 1864)]
The result of the day at Hanover was that Stuart was driven still
farther away from a junction with Lee. He was obliged to turn to the
east, making a wide detour by the way of Jefferson and Dover Kilpatrick,
meanwhile, maintaining his threatening attitude on the inside of the
circle which the redoubtable confederate was traversing, and forcing the
latter to swing clear around to the north as far as Carlisle, where he
received the first reliable information as to the whereabouts of Lee. It
was the evening of July 2, when he finally reached the main army. The
battle then had been going on for two days, and the issue was still in
doubt. During that day (2) both Stuart and Kilpatrick were hastening to
rejoin their respective armies, it having been decided that the great
battle would be fought out around Gettysburg. Gregg's division had been
guarding the right flank of Meade's army, but at nightfall it was
withdrawn to a position on the Baltimore pike near the reserve
artillery.
Kilpatrick reached the inside of the union lines, in the vicinity of
Gettysburg, late in the afternoon, at about the same hour that Hampton,
with Stuart's leading brigade, arrived at Hunterstown, a few miles
northeast of Gettysburg. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when
the Third division, moving in column of fours, was halted temporarily,
awaiting orders where to go in, and listening to the artillery firing
close in front, when a staff officer rode rapidly along the column,
crying out: "Little Mac is in command and we are whipping them." It was
a futile attempt to evoke enthusiasm and conjure victory with the magic
of McClellan's name. There was scarcely a faint attempt to cheer. There
was no longer any potency in a name.
Soon thereafter, receiving orders to move out on the road to
Abbottstown, Kilpatrick started in that direction, Custer's brigade
leading, with the Sixth Michigan in advance. When nearing the village of
Hunterstown, on a road flanked by fences, the advance encountered a
heavy force of confederate cavalry. A mounted line was formed across the
road, while there were dismounted skirmishers behind the fences on
either side. The leading squadron of the Sixth, led by Captain H.E.
Thompson, boldly charged down the road, and at the same time, three
troops were dismounted and deployed on the ridge to the right,
Pennington's battery going into position in their rear. The mounted
charge was a most gallant one, but Thompson, encountering an
overwhelmingly superior force in front, and exposed to a galling fire on
both flanks, as he charged past the confederates behind the fences, was
driven back, but not before he himself had been severely wounded, while
his first lieutenant, S.H. Ballard, had his horse shot under him and was
left behind a prisoner. As Thompson's squadron was retiring, the enemy
attempted a charge in pursuit, but the dismounted men on the right of
the road kept up such a fusillade with their Spencer carbines, aided by
the rapid discharges from Pennington's battery, that he was driven back
in great confusion. General Kilpatrick, speaking in his official report
of this engagement, says:
"I was attacked by Stuart, Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee near Hunterstown.
After a spirited affair of nearly two hours, the enemy was driven
from this point with great loss. The Second brigade fought most
handsomely. It lost in killed and wounded and missing, 32. The
conduct of the Sixth Michigan cavalry and Pennington's battery is
deserving of the highest praise."
On the other hand, General Hampton states that he received information
of Kilpatrick's advance upon Hunterstown and was directed by Stuart to
go and meet it. He says:
"After some skirmishing, the enemy attempted a charge, which was met
in front by the Cobb legion, and on either flank by the Phillips
legion and the Second South Carolina cavalry."
The position at Hunterstown was held until near midnight when Kilpatrick
received orders to move to Two Taverns, on the Baltimore turnpike, about
five miles southeast of Gettysburg, and some three miles due south from
the Rummel farm, on the Hanover road, east of Gettysburg, where the
great cavalry fight between Gregg and Stuart was to take place on the
next day. It was three o'clock in the morning (Kilpatrick says
"daylight") when Custer's brigade went into bivouac at Two Taverns.
The Second cavalry division, commanded by General D. McM. Gregg, as has
been seen, held the position on the Rummel farm on the second but was
withdrawn in the evening to the Baltimore pike "to be available for
whatever duty they might be called upon to perform on the morrow." On
the morning of the third, Gregg was ordered to resume his position of
the day before, but states in his report that the First and Third
brigades (McIntosh and Irvin Gregg) were posted on the right of the
infantry, about three-fourths of a mile nearer the Baltimore and
Gettysburg pike, because he learned that the Second brigade (Custer's)
of the Third division was occupying his position of the day before.
General Kilpatrick, in his report says:
"At 11 p.m. (July 2) received orders to move (from Hunterstown) to
Two Taverns, which point we reached at daylight. At 8 a.m. (July 3)
received orders from headquarters cavalry corps to move to the left
of our line and attack the enemy's right and rear with my whole
command and the reserve brigade. By some mistake, General Custer's
brigade was ordered to report to General Gregg and he (Custer) did
not rejoin me during the day."
General Custer, in his report, gives the following, which is without
doubt, the true explanation of the "mistake." He says:
"At an early hour on the morning of the third, I received an order
through a staff officer of the brigadier general commanding the
division (Kilpatrick), to move at once my command and follow the
First brigade (Farnsworth) on the road leading from Two Taverns to
Gettysburg. Agreeably to the above instructions, my column was formed
and moved out on the road designated, when a staff officer of
Brigadier General Gregg, commanding the Second division, ordered me
to take my command and place it in position on the pike leading from
York[10] (Hanover) to Gettysburg, which position formed the extreme
right of our line of battle on that day."
Thus it is made plain that there was no "mistake" about it. It was
Gregg's prescience. He saw the risk of attempting to guard the right
flank with only the two decimated brigades of his own division. Seeing
with him was to act. He took the responsibility to intercept
Kilpatrick's rear and largest brigade, turn it off the Baltimore pike,
to the right, instead of allowing it to go to the left, as it had been
ordered to do, and thus, doubtless, a serious disaster was averted. It
makes one tremble to think what might have been, of what inevitably must
have happened, had Gregg, with only the two little brigades of McIntosh
and Irvin Gregg and Randol's battery, tried to cope single-handed with
the four brigades and three batteries, comprising the very flower of the
confederate cavalry and artillery, which those brave knights--Stuart,
Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee--were marshaling in person on Cress's ridge. If
Custer's presence on the field was, as often has been said,
"providential," it is General D. McM. Gregg to whom, under Providence,
the credit for bringing him there was due. Gregg was a great and a
modest soldier and it will be proper, before entering upon a description
of the battle in which he played so prominent a part, to pause a moment
and pay to him the merited tribute of our admiration. In the light of
all the official reports, put together link by link, so as to make one
connected chain of evidence, we can see that the engagement which he
fought on the right at Gettysburg, on July 3, 1863, was from first to
last, a well planned battle, in which the different commands were
maneuvered with the same sagacity displayed by a skilful chess player in
moving the pawns upon a chessboard; in which every detail was the fruit
of the brain of one man who, from the time when he turned Custer to the
northward, until he sent the First Michigan thundering against the
brigades of Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee, made not a single false move; who
was distinguished not less for his intuitive foresight than for his
quick perceptions at critical moments.
That man was General David McMutrie Gregg.
This conclusion has been reached by a mind not--certainly
not--predisposed in that direction, after a careful study and review of
all the information within reach bearing upon that eventful day. If, at
Gettysburg, the Michigan cavalry brigade won honors that will not
perish, it was to Gregg that it owed the opportunity, and his guiding
hand it was that made its blows effective. It will be seen how, later in
the day, he again boldly took responsibility at a critical moment and
held Custer to his work on the right, even after the latter had been
ordered by higher authority than himself (Gregg) to rejoin Kilpatrick
and after Custer had begun the movement.
[Illustration: DAVID McMUTRIE GREGG]
Now, having admitted, if not demonstrated that Gregg did the planning,
it will be shown how gallantly Custer and his Michigan brigade did their
part of the fighting. Up to a certain point, it will be best to let
General Custer tell his own story:
"Upon arriving at the point designated, I immediately placed my
command in a position facing toward Gettysburg. At the same time I
caused reconnoissances to be made on my front, right and rear, but
failed to discover any considerable force of the enemy. Everything
remained quiet until 10 a.m., when the enemy appeared on my right
flank and opened upon me with a battery of six guns. Leaving two guns
and a regiment to hold my first position and cover the road leading
to Gettysburg, I shifted the remaining portion of my command forming
a new line of battle at right angles with my former position. The
enemy had obtained correct range of my new position, and was pouring
solid shot and shell into my command with great accuracy. Placing two
sections of battery "M," Second regular artillery, in position, I
ordered them to silence the enemy's battery, which order,
notwithstanding the superiority of the enemy's position, was done in
a very short space of time. My line as it then existed, was shaped
like the letter "L." The shorter branch, supported by one section of
battery "M" (Clark's), supported by four squadrons of the Sixth
Michigan cavalry, faced toward Gettysburg, covering the pike; the
long branch, composed of the two remaining sections of battery "M,"
supported by a portion of the Sixth Michigan cavalry on the left, and
the First Michigan cavalry on the right--with the Seventh Michigan
cavalry still further to the right and in advance--was held in
readiness to repel any attack on the Oxford (Low Dutch) road.[11] The
Fifth Michigan was dismounted and ordered to take position in front
of my center and left. The First Michigan was held in column of
squadrons to observe the movements of the enemy. I ordered fifty men
to be sent one mile and a half on the Oxford (Low Dutch) road, and a
detachment of equal size on the York (Hanover) road, both detachments
being under the command of the gallant Major Weber (of the Sixth)
who, from time to time, kept me so well informed of the movements of
the enemy, that I was enabled to make my dispositions with complete
success."
General Custer says further, that at twelve o'clock he received an order
directing him, on being relieved by a brigade of the Second division, to
move to the left and form a junction with Kilpatrick; that on the
arrival of Colonel McIntosh's brigade he prepared to execute the order;
but, to quote his own language:
"Before I had left my position, Brigadier General Gregg, commanding
the Second division, arrived with his entire command. Learning the
true condition of affairs, and rightly conjecturing the enemy was
making his dispositions for vigorously attacking our position,
Brigadier General Gregg ordered me to remain in the position I then
occupied."
So much space has been given to these quotations because they cover a
controverted point. It has been claimed, and General Gregg seems to
countenance that view, that Custer was withdrawn and that McIntosh, who
was put in his place, opened the fight, after which Gregg brought Custer
back to reinforce McIntosh. So far from this being true, it is quite the
reverse of the truth. Custer did not leave his position. The battle
opened before the proposed change had taken place, and McIntosh was
hurried in on the right of Custer. The latter was reluctant to leave his
post--knew he ought not to leave it. He had already been attacked by a
fire from the artillery in position beyond the Rummel buildings. Major
Weber, who was out on the crossroad leading northwest from the Low Dutch
road had observed the movement of Stuart's column, headed by Chambliss
and Jenkins, past the Stallsmith farm, to the wooded crest behind
Rummel's, and had reported it to Custer. Custer did, indeed, begin the
movement. A portion of the Sixth Michigan and, possibly, of the Seventh,
also, had begun to withdraw when Custer met Gregg coming on the field
and explained to him the situation--that the enemy was "all around" and
preparing to "push things." Gregg told him to remain where he was and
that portion of the brigade which was moving away halted,
countermarched, and reoccupied its former position. The Fifth Michigan
had not been withdrawn from the line in front, and Pennington's guns had
never ceased to thunder their responses to the confederate
challenge.[12]
Custer says that the enemy opened upon him with a battery of six guns at
ten a.m. Stuart on the contrary, claims to have left Gettysburg about
noon. It is difficult to reconcile these two statements. A good deal of
latitude may be given the word "about," but it is probable that the one
puts the hour too early, while the other does not give it early enough;
for, of course, before Custer could be attacked, some portion of
Stuart's command must have been upon the field.
Official reports are often meagre, if not sometimes misleading, and must
needs be reinforced by the memoranda and recollections of actual
participants, before the exact truth can be known.
Major Charles E. Storrs, of the Sixth Michigan, who commanded a
squadron, was sent out to the left and front of Custer's position, soon
after the brigade arrived upon the ground. He remained there several
hours and was recalled about noon--he is positive it was later than
twelve m.--to take position with the troops on the left of the battery.
He states that the first shot was not fired until sometime after his
recall, and he is sure it was not earlier than two o'clock.[13]
When Stuart left Gettysburg, as he says about noon, he took with him
Chambliss's and Jenkins's brigades of cavalry and Griffin's battery.
Hampton and FitZhugh Lee were to follow; also Breathed's and McGregor's
batteries, as soon as the latter had replenished their ammunition
chests. Stuart moved two and a half miles out on the York turnpike, when
he turned to the right by a country road that runs southeasterly past
the Stallsmith farm. (This road intersects the Low Dutch road, about
three-fourths of a mile from where the latter crosses the Hanover pike.)
Turning off from this road to the right, Stuart posted the brigades of
Jenkins and Chambliss and Griffin's battery on the commanding Cress's
ridge, beyond Rummel's and more than a mile from the position occupied
by Custer. This movement was noticed by Major Weber, who with his
detachment of the Sixth Michigan cavalry, was stationed in the woods
northeast of Rummel's, where he could look out on the open country
beyond, and he promptly reported the fact to Custer.
The first shot that was fired came from near the wood beyond Rummel's.
According to Major McClellan, who was assistant adjutant general on
Stuart's staff, this was from a section of Griffin's Battery, and was
aimed by Stuart himself, he not knowing whether there was anything in
his front or not. Several shots were fired in this way.
Major McClellan is doubtless right in this, that these shots were fired
as feelers; but it is inconceivable that Stuart was totally unaware of
the presence of any federal force in his immediate front; that he did
not know that there was stationed on the opposite ridge a brigade of
cavalry and a battery. Gregg had been there the day before, and Stuart
at least must have suspected, if he did not know, that he would find him
there again. It is probable that he fired the shots in the hope of
drawing out and developing the force he knew was there, to ascertain how
formidable it might be, and how great the obstacle in the way of his
farther progress toward the rear of the union lines.
The information he sought was quickly furnished.
It was then that Custer put Pennington's battery in position, and the
three sections of rifled cannon opened with a fire so fast and accurate
that Griffin was speedily silenced and compelled to leave the field.
Then there was a lull. I cannot say how long it lasted but, during its
continuance, General Gregg arrived and took command in person. About
this time, also, it is safe to say that Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee came up
and took position on the left of Chambliss and Jenkins. The confederate
line then extended clear across the federal front, and was screened by
the two patches of woods between Rummel's and the Stallsmith farm.
A battalion of the Sixth Michigan cavalry, of which mine was the leading
troop, was placed in support and on the left of Pennington's battery.
This formed, at first, the short line of the "L" referred to in Custer's
report, but it was subsequently removed farther to the right and faced
in the same general direction as the rest of the line, where it remained
until the battle ended. Its duty there was to repel any attempt that
might be made to capture the battery.
The ground upon which these squadrons were stationed overlooked the
plain, and the slightest demonstration in the open ground from either
side was immediately discernible. From this vantage ground it was
possible to see every phase of the magnificent contest that followed. It
was like a spectacle arranged for us to see. We were in the position of
spectators at joust or tournament where the knights, advancing from
their respective sides, charge full tilt upon each other in the middle
of the field.
The lull referred to was like the calm that precedes the storm. The
troopers were dismounted, standing "in place rest" in front of their
horses, when suddenly there burst upon the air the sound of that
terrific cannonading that preceded Pickett's charge. The earth quaked.
The tremendous volume of sound volleyed and rolled across the
intervening hills like reverberating thunder in a storm.
It was then between one and two o'clock. (Major Storrs says after two.)
It was not long thereafter, when General Custer directed Colonel Alger
to advance and engage the enemy. The Fifth Michigan, its flanks
protected by a portion of the Sixth Michigan on the left, by McIntosh's
brigade on the right, moved briskly forward towards the wooded screen
behind which the enemy was known to be concealed. In this movement the
right of regiment was swung well forward, the left somewhat "refused,"
so that Colonel Alger's line was very nearly at right angles with the
left of Stuart's position.
As the Fifth Michigan advanced from field to field and fence to fence, a
line of gray came out from behind the Rummel buildings and the woods
beyond. A stubborn and spirited contest ensued. The opposing batteries
filled the air with shot and shrieking shell. Amazing marksmanship was
shown by Pennington's battery, and such accurate artillery firing was
never seen on any other field. Alger's men with their eight-shotted
carbines, forced their adversaries slowly but surely back, the gray line
fighting well and superior in numbers, but unable to withstand the storm
of bullets. It made a final stand behind the strong line of fences, in
front of Rummel's and a few hundred yards out from the foot of the slope
whereon, concealed by the woods, Stuart's reserves were posted.
While the fight was raging on the plain, Weber with his outpost was
driven in. His two troops were added to the four already stationed on
the left of Pennington's battery. Weber, who had been promoted to major
but a few days before, was ordered by Colonel Gray to assume command of
the battalion. As he took his place by my side in front of the leading
troop, he said:
"I have seen thousands of them over there," pointing to the front. "The
country yonder, is full of the enemy."
He had observed all of Stuart's movements, and it was he who gave Custer
the first important information as to what the enemy was doing; which
information was transmitted to Gregg, and probably had a determining
influence in keeping Custer on the field.
Weber was a born soldier, fitted by nature and acquirements for much
higher rank than any he held. Although but 23 years of age, he had seen
much service. A private in the Third Michigan infantry in 1861, he was
next battalion adjutant of the Second Michigan cavalry, served on the
staff of General Elliott, in the southwest, and came home with Alger in
1862, to take a troop in the Sixth Michigan cavalry. The valuable
service rendered by him at Gettysburg was fitly recognized by Custer in
his official report. He was killed ten days later at Falling Waters,
while leading his squadron in a charge which was described by Kilpatrick
as "the most gallant ever made." Anticipating a spirited fight, he was
eager to have a part in it. "Bob," he said to me a few days before,
while marching through Maryland, "I want a chance to make one saber
charge." He thought the time had come. His eye flashed and his face
flushed as he watched the progress of the fight, fretting and chafing to
be held in reserve when the bugle was summoning others to the charge.
The Fifth Michigan, holding the most advanced position, suffered
greatly, Hampton having reinforced the confederate line. Among those
killed at this stage of the battle was Major Noah H. Ferry, of the
Fifth. Repeating rifles are not only effective but wasteful weapons as
well, and Colonel Alger, finding that his ammunition had given out, felt
compelled to retire his regiment and seek his horses. Seeing this, the
enemy sprang forward with a yell. The union line was seen to yield. The
puffs of smoke from the muzzles of their guns had almost ceased. It was
plain the Michigan men were out of ammunition and unable to maintain the
contest longer. On from field to field, the line of gray followed in
exultant pursuit. Breathed and McGregor opened with redoubled violence.
Shells dropped and exploded among the skirmishers, while thicker and
faster they fell around the position of the reserves. Pennington replied
with astonishing effect, for every shot hit the mark, and the opposing
artillerists were unable to silence a single union gun. But still they
came, until it seemed that nothing could stop their victorious career.
"Men, be ready," said Weber. "We will have to charge that line." But the
course of the pursuit took it toward the right, in the direction of
Randol's battery where Chester was serving out canister with the same
liberal hand displayed by Pennington's lieutenants, Clark, Woodruff and
Hamilton.
Just then, a column of mounted men was seen advancing from the right and
rear of the union line. Squadron succeeded squadron until an entire
regiment came into view, with sabers gleaming and colors gaily
fluttering in the breeze. It was the Seventh Michigan, commanded by
Colonel Mann. Gregg seeing the necessity for prompt action, had given
the order for it to charge. As the regiment moved forward, and cleared
the battery, Custer drew his saber, placed himself in front and shouted:
"Come on you Wolverines!" The Seventh dashed into the open field and
rode straight at the dismounted line which, staggered by the appearance
of this new foe, broke to the rear and ran for its reserves. Custer led
the charge half way across the plain, then turned to the left; but the
gallant regiment swept on under its own leaders, riding down and
capturing many prisoners.
[Illustration: WILLIAM D. MANN]
There was no check to the charge. The squadrons kept on in good form.
Every man yelled at the top of his voice until the regiment had gone,
perhaps, five or six hundred yards straight towards the confederate
batteries, when the head of column was deflected to the left, making a
quarter turn, and the regiment was hurled headlong against a
post-and-rail fence that ran obliquely in front of the Rummel buildings.
This proved for the time an impassable barrier. The squadrons coming up
successively at a charge, rushed pell mell on each other and were thrown
into a state of indescribable confusion, though the rear troops, without
order or orders, formed left and right front into line along the fence,
and pluckily began firing across it into the faces of the confederates
who, when they saw the impetuous onset of the Seventh thus abruptly
checked, rallied and began to collect in swarms upon the opposite side.
Some of the officers leaped from their saddles and called upon the men
to assist in making an opening. Among these were Colonel George G.
Briggs, then adjutant, and Captain H.N. Moore. The task was a difficult
and hazardous one, the posts and rails being so firmly united that it
could be accomplished only by lifting the posts, which were deeply set,
and removing several lengths at once. This was finally done, however,
though the regiment was exposed not only to a fire from the force in
front, but to a flanking fire from a strong skirmish line along a fence
to the right and running nearly at right angles with the one through
which it was trying to pass.
While this was going on, Briggs's horse was shot and he found himself on
foot, with three confederate prisoners on his hands. With these he
started to the rear, having no remount. Before he could reach a place of
safety, the rush of charging squadrons from either side had intercepted
his retreat. In the melee that followed, two of his men ran away, the
other undertook the duty of escorting his captor back to the confederate
lines. The experiment cost him his life, but the plucky adjutant,
although he did not "run away," lived to fight again on many "another
day."
In the meantime, through the passage-way thus effected, the Seventh
moved forward, the center squadron leading, and resumed the charge. The
confederates once more fell back before it. The charge was continued
across a plowed field to the front and right, up to and past Rummel's,
to a point within 200 or 300 yards of the confederate battery. There
another fence was encountered, the last one in the way of reaching the
battery, the guns of which were pouring canister into the charging
column as fast as they could fire. Two men, privates Powers and
Inglede, of Captain Moore's troop, leaped this fence and passed several
rods beyond. Powers came back without a scratch, but Inglede was
severely wounded. These two men were, certainly, within 200 yards of the
confederate cannon.
[Illustration: GEORGE G. BRIGGS]
But, seeing that the enemy to the right had thrown down the fences, and
was forming a column for a charge, the scattered portions of the Seventh
began to fall back through the opening in the fence. Captain Moore, in
whose squadron sixteen horses had been killed, retired slowly,
endeavoring to cover the retreat of the dismounted men but, taking the
wrong direction, came to the fence about 100 yards above the opening,
just as the enemy's charging column struck him. Glancing over his
shoulder, he caught the gleam of a saber thrust from the arm of a sturdy
confederate. He ducked to avoid the blow, but received the point in the
back of his head. At the same time, a pistol ball crashed through his
charger's brain and the horse went down, Moore's leg under him. An
instant later, Moore avenged his steed with the last shot in his
revolver, and the confederate fell dead at his side. Some dismounted men
of the Thirteenth Virginia cavalry took Moore prisoner and escorted him
back to the rear of their battery, from which position, during the
excitement that followed, he made his escape.
But now Alger who, when his ammunition gave out, hastened to his
horses, had succeeded in mounting one battalion, commanded by Major L.S.
Trowbridge, and when the Ninth and Thirteenth Virginia struck the flank
of the Seventh Michigan, he ordered that officer to charge and meet this
new danger. Trowbridge and his men dashed forward with a cheer, and the
enemy in their turn were put to flight. Past the Rummel buildings,
through the fields, almost to the fence where the most advanced of the
Seventh Michigan had halted, Trowbridge kept on. But he, too, was
obliged to retire before the destructive fire of the confederate cannon,
which did not cease to belch forth destruction upon every detachment of
the union cavalry that approached near enough to threaten them. The
major's horse was killed, but his orderly was close at hand with another
and he escaped. When his battalion was retiring it, also, was assailed
in flank by a mounted charge of the First Virginia cavalry, which was
met and driven back by the other battalion of the Fifth Michigan led by
Colonel Alger.
Then, as it seemed, the two belligerent forces paused to get their
second breath. Up to that time, the battle had raged with varying
fortune. Victory, that appeared about to perch first on one banner, and
then on the other, held aloof, as if disdaining to favor either. The
odds, indeed, had been rather with the confederates than against them,
for Stuart managed to out-number his adversary at every critical point,
though Gregg forced the fighting, putting Stuart on his defense, and
checkmating his plan to fight an offensive battle. But the wily
confederate had kept his two choicest brigades in reserve for the
supreme moment, intending then to throw them into the contest and sweep
the field with one grand, resistless charge.
[Illustration: LUTHER S. TROWBRIDGE]
All felt that the time for this effort had come, when a body of mounted
men began to emerge from the woods on the left of the confederate line,
northeast of the Rummel buildings, and form column to the right as they
debouched into the open field. Squadron after squadron, regiment after
regiment, orderly as if on parade, came into view, and successively took
their places.
Then Pennington opened with all his guns. Six rifled pieces, as fast as
they could fire, rained shot and shell into that fated column. The
effect was deadly. Great gaps were torn in that mass of mounted men, but
the rents were quickly closed. Then, they were ready. Confederate
chroniclers tell us there were two brigades--eight regiments--under
their own favorite leaders. In the van, floated a stand of colors. It
was the battle-flag of Wade Hampton, who with Fitzhugh Lee was leading
the assaulting column. In superb form, with sabers glistening, they
advanced. The men on foot gave way to let them pass. It was an inspiring
and an imposing spectacle, that brought a thrill to the hearts of the
spectators on the opposite slope. Pennington double-shotted his guns
with canister, and the head of the column staggered under each
murderous discharge. But still it advanced, led on by an imperturbable
spirit, that no storm of war could cow.
Meantime, the Fifth Michigan had drawn aside a little to the left,
making ready to spring. McIntosh's squadrons were in the edge of the
opposite woods. The Seventh was sullenly retiring with faces to the foe.
Weber and his battalion and the other troops of the Sixth were on edge
for the fray, should the assault take the direction of Pennington's
battery which they were supporting.
On and on, nearer and nearer, came the assaulting column, charging
straight for Randol's battery. The storm of canister caused them to
waver a little, but that was all. A few moments would bring them among
Chester's guns who, like Pennington's lieutenants, was still firing with
frightful regularity, as fast as he could load. Then Gregg rode over to
the First Michigan, and directed Town to charge. Custer dashed up with
similar instructions, and as Town ordered sabers to be drawn, placed
himself by his side, in front of the leading squadron.
With ranks well closed, with guidons flying and bugles sounding, the
grand old regiment of veterans, led by Town and Custer, moved forward to
meet that host, outnumbering it three to one. First at a trot, then the
command to charge rang out, and with gleaming saber and flashing pistol,
Town and his heroes were hurled right in the teeth of Hampton and
Fitzhugh Lee. Alger, who with the Fifth had been waiting for the right
moment, charged in on the right flank of the column as it passed, as did
some of McIntosh's squadrons, on the left. One troop of the Seventh, led
by Lieutenant Dan. Littlefield, also joined in the charge.
Then it was steel to steel. For minutes--and for minutes that seemed
like years--the gray column stood and staggered before the blow; then
yielded and fled. Alger and McIntosh had pierced its flanks, but Town's
impetuous charge in front went through it like a wedge, splitting it in
twain, and scattering the confederate horsemen in disorderly rout back
to the woods from whence they came.
During the last melee, the brazen lips of the cannon were dumb. It was a
hand-to-hand encounter between the Michigan men and the flower of the
southern cavaliers, led by their favorite commanders.
Stuart retreated to his stronghold, leaving the union forces in
possession of the field.
The rally sounded, the lines were reformed, the wounded were cared for,
and everything was made ready for a renewal of the conflict. But the
charge of the First Michigan ended the cavalry fighting on the right at
Gettysburg. Military critics have pronounced it the finest cavalry
charge made during that war.
Custer's brigade lost one officer (Major Ferry) and 28 men killed; 11
officers and 112 men wounded; 67 men missing; total loss, 219. Gregg's
division lost one man killed; 7 officers and 19 men wounded; 8 men
missing; total, 35. In other words, while Gregg's division, two
brigades, lost 35, Custer's single brigade suffered a loss of 219. These
figures apply to the fight on July 3, only. The official figures show
that the brigade, during the three days, July 1, 2 and 3, lost 1 officer
and 31 men killed; 13 officers and 134 men wounded; 78 men missing;
total, 257.[14]
For more than twenty years after the close of the civil war, the part
played by Gregg, Custer and McIntosh and their brave followers in the
battle of Gettysburg received but scant recognition. Even the maps
prepared by the corps of engineers stopped short of Cress's Ridge and
Rummel's fields. "History" was practically silent upon the subject, and
had not the survivors of those commands taken up the matter, there might
have been no record of the invaluable services which the Second cavalry
division and Custer's Michigan brigade rendered at the very moment when
a slight thing would have turned the tide of victory the other way. In
other words, the decisive charge of Colonel Town and his Michiganders
coincided in point of time with the failure of Pickett's assault upon
the center, and was a contributing cause in bringing about the latter
result.
[Illustration: CHARLES H. TOWN]
About the year 1884, a monument was dedicated on the Rummel farm which
was intended to mark as nearly as possible the exact spot where Gregg
and Custer crossed swords with Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee in the final
clash of the cavalry fight. This monument was paid for by voluntary
contributions of the survivors of the men who fought with Gregg and
Custer. Colonel George Gray of the Sixth Michigan alone contributed four
hundred dollars. Many others were equally liberal. On that day Colonel
Brooke-Rawle, of Philadelphia, who served in the Third Pennsylvania
cavalry, of Gregg's division, delivered an address upon the "Cavalry
Fight on the Right Flank, at Gettysburg." It was an eloquent tribute to
Gregg and his Second division and to the Michigan brigade though, like a
loyal knight, he claimed the lion's share of the glory for his own, and
placed chaplets of laurel upon the brow of his ideal hero of
Pennsylvania rather than upon that of "Lancelot, or another." In other
words, he did not estimate Custer's part at its full value, an omission
for which he subsequently made graceful and honorable acknowledgment. In
this affair there were honors enough to go around.
Subsequently General Luther S. Trowbridge, of Detroit, who was an
officer in the Fifth Michigan cavalry, who like Colonel Brooke-Rawle
fought most creditably in the cavalry fight on the right, wrote a paper
on the same subject which was read before the Michigan commandery of the
Loyal Legion. This very fitly supplemented Colonel Brooke-Rawle's
polished oration. In the year 1889, another monument erected by the
state of Michigan on the Rummel farm, and but a hundred yards or such a
matter from the other, was dedicated. The writer of these
"Recollections" was the orator of the occasion, and the points of his
address are contained in the narrative which constitutes this chapter.
Those three papers and others written since that time, notably one by
General George B. Davis, judge advocate general, U.S.A., and one by
Captain Miller, of the Third Pennsylvania cavalry, have brought the
cavalry fight at Gettysburg into the limelight, so that there is no
longer any pretext for the historian or student of the history of the
civil war to profess ignorance of the events of that day which reflect
so much luster on the cavalry arm of the service.
To illustrate the point made in these concluding paragraphs that the
part taken by the cavalry on the right is at last understood and
acknowledged, the following extract from an address given before the
students of the Orchard Lake military academy by General Charles King
the gifted author of "The Colonel's Daughter," and many other writings,
is herein quoted. General King is himself a cavalry officer with a
brilliant record in the army of the United States. In that address to
the students on "The Battle of Gettysburg," he said:
"And so, just as Gettysburg was the turning point of the great war,
so, to my thinking, was the grapple with and overthrow of Stuart on
the fields of the Rummel farm the turning point of Gettysburg. Had he
triumphed there; had he cut his way through or over that glorious
brigade of Wolverines and come sweeping all before him down among the
reserve batteries and ammunition trains, charging furiously at the
rear of our worn and exhausted infantry even as Pickett's devoted
Virginians assailed their front, no man can say what scenes of rout
and disaster might not have occurred. Pickett's charge was the grand
and dramatic climax of the fight because it was seen of all men.
Stuart's dash upon the Second division far out on the right flank was
hardly heard of for years after. It would have rung the world over
but for the Michigan men. Pennsylvania and New Jersey, New York and
the little contingent of Marylanders had been fighting for days, were
scattered, dismounted and exhausted when the plumes of Stuart came
floating out from the woods of the Stallsmith farm, Hampton and
Fitzhugh Lee at his back. It was Custer and the Wolverines who flew
like bull dogs straight at the throat of the foes; who blocked his
headlong charge; who pinned him to the ground while like wolves their
comrade troops rushed upon his flanks.
"It may be, perhaps an out-cropping of the old trooper spirit now
but, as I look back upon the momentous four years' struggle, with all
its lessons of skill and fortitude and valor incomparable, it seems
to me that, could I have served in only one of its great combats,
drawn saber in just one supreme crisis on whose doubtful issue hung
trembling the fate of the whole union, I would beg to live that day
over again and to ride with Gregg and McIntosh and Custer; to share
in the wild, fierce charge of the Michigan men; to have my name go
down to posterity with those of Alger and Kidd, Town and Trowbridge,
Briggs and gallant Ferry, whose dead hand gripped the saber hilt and
the very grave. To have it said that I fought with the old Second
division of the cavalry corps that day when it went and grappled and
overwhelmed the foe in the full tide of his career, at the very
climax of the struggle, and hurled him back to the banks of the
Rubicon of the rebellion, to cross it then and there for the last
time, to look his last upon the green hills of Maryland--nevermore to
vex our soil until, casting away the sword, he could come with
outstretched hand and be hailed as friend and brother."