GETTYSBURG: 1863
On the fifth of May we left Lee victorious in Virginia; but with
his indispensable lieutenant, Stonewall Jackson, mortally wounded.
Though thoroughly defeated at Chancellorsville, Hooker soon recovered
control of the Army of the Potomac and prepared to dispute Lee's
right of way. Lee faced a difficult, perhaps an insoluble, problem.
Longstreet urged him to relieve the local pressure on Vicksburg by
concentrating every available man in eastern Tennessee, not only
withdrawing Johnston's force from Grant's rear but also depleting
the Confederates in Virginia for the same purpose. Then, combining
these armies from east and west with the one already there under
Bragg, the united Confederates were to crush Rosecrans in their
immediate front and make Cincinnati their great objective. Lee,
however, dared not risk the loss of his Virginian bases in the
meantime; and so he decided on a vigorous counter-attack, right
into Pennsylvania, hoping that, if successful, this would produce
a greater effect than any corresponding victory could possibly
produce elsewhere.
On the ninth of June a cavalry combat round Brandy Station, in
the heart of Virginia, made Hooker's staff feel certain that Lee
was again going up the Valley and on to Maryland. At one time,
for want of supplies, Lee had to spread out his front along a line
running eighty miles northwest from Fredericksburg to Strasburg.
Hooker, on the keen alert, implored the Government to let him attack
the three Confederate corps in detail. Success against one at least
was certain. Lincoln understood this perfectly. But the nerves of his
colleagues were again on edge; and no argument could persuade them
to adopt the best of all possible schemes of defense by destroying
the enemy's means of destroying them. They insisted on the usual
shield theory of passive defense, and ordered Hooker to keep between
Lee and Washington whatever might happen. This absurd maneuver was
of course attended with all the usual evil results at the time.
Equally of course, it afterwards drew down the wrath of the wiseacre
public on their own representatives. But wiseacre publics never stop
to think that many a government is forced to do foolish and even
suicidal things in war simply because it represents the ignorance
and folly, as well as the wisdom, of all who have the vote.
Yet both the loyal public and its Government had some good reasons
to doubt Hooker's ability, even apart from his recent defeat; and
Lincoln, wisest of all--except in applying strategy to problems
he could not fully understand--felt almost certain that Hooker's
character contained at least the seeds of failure in supreme command.
"He talks to me like a father," said Hooker, on reading the letter
Lincoln wrote when appointing him Burnside's successor. This remarkable
letter, dated January 26, 1863, though printed many times, is worth
reading again:
I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of course
I have done this upon what appears to me to be sufficient reasons,
and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some things
in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. I believe
you to be a brave and skillful soldier, which, of course, I like.
I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession, in
which you are right. You have confidence in yourself, which is
a valuable, if not an indispensable, quality. You are ambitious,
which, within reasonable bounds, does good rather than harm; but
I think that during General Burnside's command of the army you
have taken counsel of your ambition, and thwarted him as much as
you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country and to a
most meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard, in
such way as to believe it, of your recently saying that both the
army and the Government needed a Dictator. Of course it was not
for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command.
Only those generals who gain successes can set up dictatorships.
What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the
dictatorship. The Government will support you to the utmost of
its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and
will do for all commanders. I much fear that the spirit which you
have aided to infuse into the army, of criticizing their commander
and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I
shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor
Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army
while such a spirit prevails in it. And now, beware of rashness,
but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward, and give us
victories.
Then came Chancellorsville, doubts at Washington, interference by
Stanton, ill-judged orders from Halleck, and some not very judicious
rejoinders from Hooker himself, who became rather peevish, to Lincoln's
alarm. So when, on the twenty-seventh of June, Hooker tendered his
resignation, it was promptly accepted. With Lee in Pennsylvania
there was no time for discussion: only for finding some one to
trust.
Lee, as usual, had divined the political forces working on the
Union armies from Washington and had maneuvered with a combination
of skill and daring that exactly met the situation. Throwing his
left forward (under Ewell) in the Shenandoah Valley he had driven
Milroy out of Winchester on the fourteenth of June and next day
secured a foothold across the Potomac. Then the rest of his army
followed. It was so much stretched out (to facilitate its food
supply) that Lincoln again wished to strike it at any vulnerable
spot. But the Cabinet in general (and Stanton in particular) were
still determined that the Union army should be their passive shield,
not their active sword. On the twenty-fourth Ewell was already
beginning to semicircle Gettysburg from the Cumberland Valley. On
the twenty-eighth, the day on which Meade succeeded Hooker in the
Federal command, the Confederate semicircle, now formed by Lee's
whole army, stretched from Chambersburg on the west, through Carlisle
on the north, to York on the east; while the massed Federals were
still in Maryland, near Middletown and Frederick, thirty miles
south of Gettysburg, and only forty miles northwest of nervous
Washington.
Hooker's successor, George G. Meade, was the fifth defender of
Washington within the last ten months. Luckily for the Union, Meade
was a sound, though not a great, commander, and his hands were
fairly free. Luckily again, he was succeeded in command of the Fifth
Corps by George Sykes, the excellent leader of those magnificent
regulars who fought so well at Antietam and Second Manassas. The
change from interference to control was made only just in time
at Washington; for three days after Meade's free hand began to
feel its way along the threatened front the armies met upon the
unexpected battlefield of Gettysburg.
Lee in Pennsylvania was in the midst of a very hostile population
and facing superior forces which he could only defeat in one of
two difficult ways: either by a sudden, bewildering, and unexpected
attack, like Jackson's and his own at Chancellorsville, or by an
impregnable defense on ground that also favored a victorious
counter-attack and the subsequent crushing pursuit. But there was
no Jackson now; and the nature of the country did not favor the
bewildering of Federals who were fighting at home under excellent
generals well served by a competent staff and well screened by cavalry.
So the "fog of war" was quite as dense round Lee's headquarters as
it was round Meade's on the first of July, when Lee found that his
chosen point of concentration near Gettysburg was already occupied
by Buford's cavalry, with infantry and some artillery in support.
The surprise--and no very great surprise--was mutual. The Federals
were found where they could stand on their defense in a very strong
position if the rest of their army could come up in time. And Lee's
only advantage was that, having already ordered concentration round
the same position, he had a few hours' start of Meade in getting
there.
Each commander had intended to make the other one attack if possible;
and Meade of course knew that Lee, with inferior numbers and vastly
inferior supplies, could not afford to stay long among gathering
enemies in the hostile North without decisive action. The Confederates
must either fight or retreat without fighting, and make their choice
very soon. So, when the two armies met at Gettysburg, Lee was
practically forced to risk an immediate action or begin a retreat
that might have ruined Confederate morale.
Gettysburg is one of those battles about which men will always
differ. The numbers present, the behavior of subordinates, the
tactics employed, were, and still are, subjects of dispute. Above
all, there is the vexed question of what Lee should or should not
have done. We have little space to spare for any such discussions.
We can only refer inquirers to the original evidence (some of which
is most conflicting) and give the gist of what seems to be indubitable
fact. The numbers were a good seventy thousand Confederates against
about eighty thousand Federals. But these are the approximate grand
totals; and it must be remembered that the Confederates, having
the start, were in superior numbers during the first two days.
On each side there was an aggrieved and aggrieving subordinate
general, Sickles on the Federal side, Longstreet on the other.
But Sickles was by far the less important of the two. In tactics
the Federals displayed great judgment, skill, and resolution. The
Northern people called Gettysburg a soldiers' battle; and so, in
many ways, it was; for there was heroic work among the rank and
file on both sides. But it most emphatically was not a soldiers'
battle in the sense of its having been won more by the rank and
file than by the generals in high command; for never did so many
Federal chiefs show to such great advantage. No less than five
commanded in succession between morning and midnight on the first
day, each meeting the crisis till the next senior came up. They
were Buford, Reynolds, Howard, Hancock, Meade. Hunt also excelled in
command of the artillery; and this in spite of much misorganization
of that arm at Washington. Warren was not only a good commander
of the engineers but a good all-round general, as he showed by
seizing, on his own initiative, the Little Round Top, without which
the left flank could never have been held.
Finally, there is the great vexed question of what Lee should or
should not have done. First, it seems clear that (like Farragut and
unlike Grant and Jackson) he lacked the ruthless power of making
every subordinate bend or break in every time of crisis: otherwise
he would have bent or broken Longstreet. Next, it may have been
that he was not then at his best. Concludingly, it may be granted
to armchair (and even other) critics that if everything had been
something else the results might not have been the same.
Lee, having invaded the North by marching northeast under cover of
the mountains and wheeling southeast to concentrate at Gettysburg,
found Buford's cavalry suddenly resisting him, as they formed the
northwest outpost of Meade's army, which was itself concentrating
round Pipe Creek, near Taneytown in Maryland, fifteen miles southeast.
Gettysburg was a meeting place of many important roads. It stood at
the western end of a branch line connecting with all the eastern
rails. And it occupied a strong strategic point in the vitally
important triangle formed by Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and Washington.
Thus, like a magnet, it drew the contending armies to what they
knew would prove a field decisive of the whole campaign.
The Federal line, as finally held on the third of July, was nearly
five miles long. The front faced west and was nearly three miles
long. The flanks, thrown back at right angles, faced north and
south. Near the north end of the front stood Cemetery Hill, near
the south the Devil's Den, a maze of gigantic bowlders. Along the
front the ground was mostly ridged, and even the lower ground about
the center was a rise from which a gradual slope went down to the
valley that rose again to the opposite heights of Seminary Ridge,
where Lee had his headquarters only a mile away. The so-called
hills were no more than hillocks, the ridges were low, and most
slopes were those of a rolling country. But the general contour
of the ground, the swelling hillocks on the flanks (Culp's Hill
on the right, the Round Tops on the left) and the broad glacis up
which attackers must advance against the center, all combined to
make the position very strong indeed when held by even or superior
numbers.
The first day's fight began when A. P. Hill's Confederates, with
Longstreet's following, closed in on Gettysburg from the west to
meet Ewell's, who were coming down from the north. Buford's Federal
cavalry resisted Hill's advanced brigades successfully till Reynolds
had brought the First Corps forward in support and ordered the
two other nearest corps to follow at the double quick. Reynolds
was killed early in the day; but not before his well trained eye
had taken in the situation at a glance and his sure judgment had
half committed both armies to that famous field.
The full commitment came shortly after, when Meade sent Hancock
forward to command the three corps and Buford's cavalry in their
attempt to stem the Confederate advance. Howard was then the senior
general on the field, having taken over from Doubleday, who had
succeeded Reynolds. But he at once agreed that such a strong position
should be held and that Hancock should proceed to rectify the lines.
This was no easy task; for Ewell's Confederates had meanwhile come
down from the north and driven in the Federal flank on the already
hard-pressed front. The front thereupon gave way and fell back
in confusion. But Hancock's masterly work was quickly done and
the Federal line was reëstablished so well that the Confederates
paused in their attack and waited for the morrow.
The Confederates had got as good as they gave, much to their disgust.
Archer, one of their best brigadiers, felt particularly sore when
most of his men were rounded up by Meredith's "Iron Brigade." When
Doubleday saw his old West Point friend a prisoner he shook hands
cordially, saying, "Well, Archer, I _am_ glad to see you!" But
Archer answered, "Well, I'm not so glad to see _you_--not by a
damned sight!" The fact was that the excellent Federal defense had
come as a very unpleasing surprise upon the rather too cocksure
Confederates. Buford's cavalry and Reynolds's infantry had staunchly
withstood superior numbers; while Lieutenant Bayard Wilkeson actually
held back a Confederate division for some time with the guns of
Battery G, Fourth U. S. Artillery. This heroic youth, only nineteen
years of age, kept his men in action, though they were suffering
terrible losses, till two converging batteries brought him down.
He was well matched by a veteran of over seventy, John Burns, an
old soldier, whom the sound of battle drew from his little home like
the trumpet-call to arms. In his swallow-tailed, brass-buttoned,
old-fashioned coatee, Burns seemed a very comic sight to the nearest
boys in blue until they found he really meant to join them and
that he knew a thing or two of war. "Which way are the rebels?"
he asked, "and where are our troops? I know how to fight--I've
fit before." So he did; and he fought to good purpose till wounded
three times.
Late in the evening Meade arrived and inspected the lines by moonlight.
Having ordered every remaining man to hasten forward he faced the
second day with well-founded anxiety lest Lee's full strength should
break through before his own last men were up. His right was not
safe against surprise by the Confederates who slept at the foot of
Culp's Hill, and his left was in imminent danger from Longstreet's
corps. But on the second day Longstreet marked his disagreement
with Lee's plans by delaying his attack till Warren, with admirable
judgment, had ordered the Round Tops to be seized at the double
quick and held to the last extremity. Then, after wasting enough
time for this to be done, Longstreet attacked and was repulsed;
though his men fought very well. Meanwhile Ewell, whose attack
against the right was to synchronize with Longstreet's against
the left, was delayed by Longstreet till the afternoon, when he
carried Culp's Hill.
This was the only Confederate success; for Early failed to carry
Cemetery Hill, the adjoining high ground, which formed the right
center, and the rest of the Federal line remained intact; though
not without desperate struggles.
The third was the decisive day; and on it Meade rose to the height
of his unappreciated skill. This was the first great battle in
which all the chief Federals worked so well together and the first
in which the commander-in-chief used reserves with such excellent
effect, throwing them in at exactly the right moment and at the
proper place. But these indispensable qualities were not of the
kind that the public wanted to acclaim, or, indeed, of the kind
that they could understand.
Meade was determined to clear his flanks. So he began at dawn to
attack Ewell on Culp's Hill and kept on doggedly till, after four
hours of strenuous fighting, he had driven him off. By this time
Meade saw that Lee was not going to press home any serious attack
against the Round Tops and Devil's Den on the left. So the main
interest of the whole battle shifted to the center of the field, where
Lee was massing for a final charge. The idea had been to synchronize
three coöperating movements against Meade's whole position. His left
was to have been held by a demonstration in force by Longstreet
against the Devil's Den and Round Tops, while Ewell held Culp's
Hill, which seemed to be at his mercy, and which would flank any
Federal retreat. At the same time Meade's center was to have been
rushed by Pickett's fresh division supported by three attached
brigades. But though the central force was ready before nine o'clock
it never stepped off till three; so great was Longstreet's delay
in ordering Pickett's advance. Meanwhile the Federals had made
Culp's Hill quite safe against Ewell. So all depended now on the
one last desperate assault against the Federal center.
This immortal assault is known as Pickett's Charge because it was
made by Pickett's division of Longstreet's corps supported by three
brigades from Hill's--Wilcox's, Perry's, and Pettigrew's. The whole
formed a mass of about ten thousand men. If they broke the Federal
line in two, then every supporting Confederate was to follow, while
the rest turned the flanks. If they failed, then the battle must
be lost.
Hour after hour passed by. But it was not till well past one that
Longstreet opened fire with a hundred and forty guns. Hunt had
seventy-seven ready to reply. But after firing for half an hour
he ceased, wishing to reserve his ammunition for use against the
charging infantry. This encouraged the Confederate gunners, who
thought they had silenced him. They then continued for some time,
preparing the way for the charge, but firing too high and doing
little execution against the Federal infantry, who were lying down,
mostly under cover. Hunt's guns were more exposed and formed better
targets; so some of them suffered severely: none more than those of
Battery A, Fourth U.S. Artillery. This gallant battery had three
of its limbers blown up and replaced. Wheels were also smashed to
pieces and guns put out of action, till only a single gun, with
men enough to handle it, was left with only a single officer. This
heroic young lieutenant, Alonzo H. Cushing (brother to the naval
Cushing who destroyed the _Albemarle_), then ran his gun up to
the fence and fired his last round through it into Pickett's men
as he himself fell dead.
Pickett advanced at three o'clock, to the breathless admiration
of both friend and foe. He had a mile of open ground to cover. But
his three lines marched forward as steadily and blithely as if the
occasion was a gala one and they were on parade. The Confederate
bombardment ceased. The Federal guns and rifles held their fire. Fate
hung in silence on those gallant lines of gray. Then the Federal
skirmishers down in the valley began fitfully firing; and the waiting
masses on the Federal slopes began to watch more intently still.
"Here they come! Here comes the infantry!" The blue ranks stirred
a little as the men felt their cartridge boxes and the sockets of
their bayonets. The calm warnings of the officers could be heard
all down the line of Gibbon's magnificent division, which stood
straight in Pickett's path. "Steady, men, steady! Don't fire yet!"
For a very few, tense minutes Pickett's division disappeared in
an undulation of the ground. Then, at less than point-blank range,
it seemed to spring out of the very earth, no longer in three lines
but one solid mass of rushing gray, cresting, like a tidal wave, to
break in fury on the shore. Instantly, as if in answer to a single
word, Hunt's guns and Gibbon's rifles crashed out together, and
shot, shell, canister, and bullet cut gaping wounds deep into the
dense gray ranks. Still, the wave broke; and, from its storm-blown
top, one furious tongue surged over the breastwork and through
the hedge of bayonets. It came from Armistead's brigade of stark
Virginians. He led it on; and, with a few score men, reached the
highwater mark of that last spring tide.
When he fell the tide of battle turned; turned everywhere upon
that stricken field; turned throughout the whole campaign; turned
even in the war itself.
As Pickett's men fell back they were swept by scythe-like fire
from every gun and rifle that could mow them down. Not a single
mounted officer remained; and of all the brave array that Pickett
led three-fourths fell killed or wounded. The other fourth returned
undaunted still, but only as the wreckage of a storm.
[Illustration: CIVIL WAR CAMPAIGNS OF 1863]
Lee's loss exceeded forty per cent of his command. Meade's loss
fell short of thirty. But Meade was quite unable to pursue at once
when Lee retired on the evening of the fourth. The opposing cavalry,
under Pleasonton and Stuart respectively, had fought a flanking
battle of their own, but without decisive result. So Lee could
screen his retreat to the Potomac, where, however, his whole supply
train might have been cut off if its escort under the steadfast
Imboden had not been reinforced by every teamster who could pull
a trigger.
Gettysburg and Vicksburg, coming together, of course raised the
wildest expectations among the general public, expectations which
found an unworthy welcome at Government headquarters, where Halleck
wrote to Meade on the fourteenth: "The escape of Lee's army has
created great dissatisfaction in the mind of the President." Meade
at once replied: "The censure is, in my judgment, so undeserved
that I most respectfully ask to be immediately relieved from the
command of this army." Wiser counsels thereupon prevailed.
Lee and Meade maneuvered over the old Virginian scenes of action,
each trying to outflank the other, and each being hampered by having
to send reinforcements to their friends in Tennessee, where, as
we have seen already, Bragg and Rosecrans were now maneuvering in
front of Chattanooga. In October (after the Confederate victory of
Chickamauga) Meade foiled Lee's attempt to bring on a Third Manassas.
The campaign closed at Mine Run, where Lee repulsed Meade's attempted
surprise in a three-day action, which began on the twenty-sixth
of November, the morrow of Grant's three days at Chattanooga.
From this time forward the South was like a beleaguered city, certain
to fall if not relieved, unless, indeed, the hearts of those who
swayed the Northern vote should fail them at the next election.