_From Chancellorsville to Gettysburg_
"It was the wild midnight--
The storm was on the sky;
The lightning gave its light,
And the thunder echoed by."
After resting awhile and mourning the loss of our great soldier, Lee's
army began to move. The question was (not only on our side of the river,
but on the other), "What is Gen. Lee up to now?"
The Northern commander determined to investigate, and early in the
morning of the ninth of June, 1863, a portion of the Union army began to
cross the Rappahannock at every ford for miles, up and down the river.
I was on picket at one of the fords, and was relieved at 3 o'clock in
the morning, another soldier taking my place.
I went up through the field into the woods where our reserves (some 20
men) were in camp. It was from this squadron that pickets were sent out
and posted along the river.
I hitched my horse, and wrapped in a blanket, lay down to sleep. But I
was soon rudely awakened by the watchman, who shouted that the enemy was
crossing the river. We all jumped up and mounted our horses. Our captain
was with us.
The day was just breaking. The pickets were hurrying up from the river
in every direction, firing their pistols to give the alarm.
Our captain formed the men in the edge of the woods for the purpose of
checking for a few minutes the advancing enemy, so as to give the 10,000
cavalrymen that were encamped a mile or so in the rear time to saddle
and mount their horses and prepare for battle.
The enemy came pouring up from the river, and we opened fire on them,
checking them for the moment. Two of our men were killed, several
wounded, and two horses killed.
Two couriers had gone ahead to arouse the camp. We soon followed them
along the road through the woods, the enemy hard on our heels.
I was riding with the captain in the rear. We were not aware that the
Yankees were so close to us, and the captain was calling to the men to
check their speed. I looked behind, called to the captain and told him
they were right on us, and just as I spoke two bullets went hissing by
my head. The captain yelled to his men to move forward, and bending low
on the necks of our horses, we gave them the spur.
As we came out of the woods into the fields we met the Sixth Virginia
(my regiment), under Col. Flournoy, coming down the road at full gallop.
Just on his left, and almost on a line with the Sixth, was the Seventh
Regiment coming across the fields (for there were no fences then). These
two regiments entered the woods, one on the right and one on the left,
and stretching out on either side, poured a volley into the advancing
enemy that caused them to halt for awhile.
The roar of the guns in the woods at that early hour in the morning was
terrific. What was going on in front of us was being enacted up and down
the river for at least three miles.
Our forces then fell back into the open country, and the battle
continued, at intervals, all day long.
The Yankees were supported by infantry, while we had nothing but cavalry
and artillery.
Our enemies could have driven us back farther if they had tried to, but
they seemed to be afraid of getting into trouble. I do not know what our
commander, Gen. Stuart, knew, but I did not suppose that Gen. Lee was
within 30 miles of us. Toward sunset I saw him come riding across the
fields on his gray horse, "Traveler," accompanied by his staff. He
seemed as calm and unconcerned as if he were inspecting the land with
the view of a purchase.
Whether it was the presence of Gen. Lee himself, or the fear that he had
his army with him, I know not, but simultaneously with the appearance of
Gen. Lee the enemy began to move back and recross the river. We did not
press them, but gave them their own time.
We re-established our picket line along the river, and everything was
quiet for a day or two.
We went down the next day to the spot where the first fight took place,
and found our two men lying dead by the side of a tree, and several dead
horses. The enemy had removed their dead (if they had any). It was too
dark when we were fighting for us to see whether we did any execution or
not at this particular point. We buried our two men where they fell and
went back to camp. Total losses as reported by each side--Confederate,
485; Federal, 907.
The next day we were quietly resting in the woods, watching the infantry
as they tramped by all day long, moving in a northeasterly direction.
The question was asked 10,000 times perhaps that day, "What is Marse
Robert up to now? Where is he taking us?" (Gen. Lee was called Marse
Robert by his soldiers.)
In the afternoon we noticed a long string of wagons of a peculiar
construction, each drawn by six horses, and loaded with something
covered with white canvas. Of course, we were all curious to know what
these wagons contained. The secret soon leaked out. They were pontoon
bridges. And then we began to speculate as to what rivers we were to
cross. Some said we were destined for the Ohio, others for the Potomac.
Just before sunset the bugle sounded "saddle up," and soon Stuart's
cavalry was in the saddle and on the march.
Everything was trending one way, namely, northeast.
The infantry went into camp at night, but the cavalry marched through
most of the night, crossing the Rappahannock several miles above where
we had been fighting.
Lee's entire army was en route for Pennsylvania, as we afterward
learned, the cavalry keeping in between the two armies, protecting the
wagon trains and concealing, as far as possible, our army's
destination.[2]
The infantry, artillery and baggage train crossed the Blue Ridge at the
various gaps, fording the Shenandoah river, and moved down the valley of
Virginia toward the Potomac.
Lee's cavalry kept on the east side of the mountain, holding the enemy
back as much as possible.
When we reached Fauquier and Loudoun counties the Union cavalry made a
desperate effort to drive in our cavalry and discover the route of our
main army.
Heavy fighting began at Aldie, below Middleburg, and was continued up
the pike through the town of Middleburg up as far as Upperville, where I
had been captured the year before.
The enemy's cavalry was supported by infantry, and our forces fell back
fighting foot by foot until they reached Upperville, where we met a
division of infantry that Gen. Lee had sent to help us beat back the
enemy. The Confederates who were killed in this action are buried in
Middleburg and Upperville, in the cemeteries just outside of the two
towns, and the ladies of these villages and the country round about were
kept busy caring for the wounded.
I escaped some of the heaviest of this fighting by being detailed to
guard the prisoners back to Winchester.
The night before the battle I was sent out along the road at the foot of
the mountain to discover whether the enemy was approaching from that
direction or not. After a lonely ride of several hours I came back and
had a time finding Gen. Stuart, to whom I was instructed to report. I
found him asleep on the porch of the home of Caleb Rector. I aroused him
and delivered my message. His reply was, "All right." I looked up my
own command, and lay down for the remainder of the night.
Lee's army crossed the river at Williamsport, Md., on the pontoon
bridge.[3] The Northern army crossed between Harper's Ferry and
Washington, and our cavalry, strange to say, went below the Union army
and crossed the river near Washington, thus circling the Union army and
arriving at Gettysburg the last day of the battle. Stuart captured and
destroyed many wagons and much property on this expedition.
My brigade of cavalry did not follow Stuart, but followed the main army,
bringing up the rear.
After crossing the river, Lee led his main army straight for
Chambersburg, Pa. I cannot describe the feeling of the Southern soldiers
as they crossed the line separating Maryland and Pennsylvania, and trod
for the first time the sacred soil of the North. Many of our soldiers
had been on Maryland soil before this, and although Maryland was not a
part of the Confederacy, we felt that she was one of us, and while
marching over her roads and fields we were still in our own domain, but
not so when we crossed into Pennsylvania. We were then in the enemy's
territory, and it gave us inexpressible joy to think that we were strong
enough and bold enough to go so far from home and attack our enemy upon
his own soil. The joy of our soldiers knew no bounds. We were as
light-hearted and as gay as children on a picnic, and we had no fear as
to result of the move.
Marching along the pike one day, the cavalry halted, and just on our
left there was a modest home of a farmer. The garden was fenced, and
came out and bordered on the road. His raspberries were ripe, and our
soldiers sat on their horses, and leaning over were picking the berries
from the vines. One soldier was bold enough to dismount and get over
into the garden. We saw the family watching us from the window. The
impudence on the part of this soldier was a little too much for the
farmer. He came out with an old-fashioned shotgun and berated us in a
manner most vehement, but did not shoot. This stirred the risibles of
our soldiers to such an extent that the whole command broke out with
loud laughter and hurrah for the brave farmer, who single-handed, and
with a single-barrel shotgun, was defying the whole rebel horde. If the
entire command had leveled its guns at him I think he would have stood
his ground, but he could not stand our ridicule, so he went back into
his house, and all was quiet again. Presently the command moved off,
leaving what berries they did not have time to pick. From Chambersburg,
Lee turned his columns southward and moved toward Gettysburg to meet the
Union army that was advancing in the opposite direction. The armies met,
and the whole world knows the result.
The battle lasted three days. The first two days were decidedly in favor
of the Confederates. My command took an active part in the battle, and
the adjutant of my regiment was killed, also several in my company, and
some were badly wounded and had to be left. I was struck with a ball on
the shoulder, marking my coat, and had a bullet hole through the rim of
my hat; but as the latter was caused by my own careless handling of my
pistol, I can't count it as a trophy.
As the years go by the students of history are more and more amazed at
the boldness of Gen. Lee in placing his army of 75,000, some say 65,000,
at Gettysburg,[4] when he knew that between him and the capital of the
Confederacy (which his army was intended to protect) was the capital of
the United States protected by an army of not less than 200,000
soldiers, and I might add by the best-equipped army in the world, for
the United States Government had the markets of the world to draw
supplies from.
In the morning of the third day of the battle of Gettysburg there had
been a terrible artillery duel that made the earth tremble for miles
around, and was heard far and wide.
When the guns got too hot for safety the firing ceased, the noise died
away and the soldiers lay down to rest.
During this interval Gen. Lee called his generals together for counsel.
They discussed the situation for some time, which had grown serious.
Lee's losses had been heavy in killed and wounded, and his stock of
ammunition was growing low.
After considerable discussion Lee mounted his gray horse, rode off a
few paces to a slight elevation, and lifting his field glass to his eyes
looked intently at the long lines of blue that stretched along the
slopes, in the hope of finding some weak point which he might attack.
Then returning to his officers he said in a firm voice: "We will attack
the enemy's center, cut through, roll back their wings on either side
and crush or rout their army." Then he said: "Gen. Pickett will lead the
attack."
Pickett was a handsome young Virginian, a splendid rider, a brave
commander, and one of the most picturesque figures in the Confederate
army. Bowing his head in submission, he mounted his horse, and tossing
back his long auburn locks, rode off and disappeared among the trees.
The other officers soon joined their several commands, and Gen. Lee was
left alone with his staff.
There was ominous silence everywhere; even the winds had gone away, and
the banners hung limp on their staffs. The birds had all left the trees,
the cattle had left the fields, and the small squadrons of cavalry that
had been scouting between the two armies retired and took position on
either flank. Yonder in front, stretching along the slopes, lay the blue
lines of the enemy, like a huge monster asleep, while behind were the
hilltops, all frowning with wide-mouthed cannon loaded to the lips.
Soon long lines of gray came stealing out of the woods like waves out of
the sea. Long lines of gray moved over the fields like waves over the
sea. These were Pickett's men; and Pickett, handsome Pickett, was at
their head riding in silence.
The polished steel of the guns, as the lines rose and fell over the
uneven ground, caught the rays of the bright July sun, developing a
picture of dazzling splendor.
I wonder what was passing through the minds of those boys (their average
age perhaps not much over twenty) as they moved step by step toward
those bristling lines of steel in their front?
They were thinking of home. Far over the hills, "Way down south in
Dixie."
Step by step came the gray, nearer and nearer, when suddenly there was a
sound that shook the hills and made every heart quake. It was the signal
gun.
Simultaneously with the sound came a cannon ball hissing through the
air, and passing over the heads of the advancing columns, struck the
ground beyond.
Then suddenly the whole slope was wreathed in smoke and flame,
accompanied with a noise like the roar of a thousand cataracts.
Was it a huge volcanic eruption? No. The Blue and the Gray had met. The
smoke rose higher and higher, and spread wider and wider, hiding the
sun, and then gently dropping back, hid from human eyes the dreadful
tragedy.
But the battle went on and on, and the roar of the guns continued. After
a while, when the sun was sinking to rest, there was a hush. The noise
died away. The winds came creeping back from the west, and gently
lifting the coverlet of smoke, revealed a strange sight.
The fields were all carpeted, a beautiful carpet, a costly carpet, more
costly than axminster or velvet. The figures were horses and men all
matted and woven together with skeins of scarlet thread.
The battle is over and Gettysburg has passed into history.
The moon and the stars come out, and the surgeons with their attendants
appear with their knives and saws, and when morning came there were
stacks of legs and arms standing in the fields like shocks of corn.
The two armies confronted each other all day long, but not a shot was
fired. Up to noon that day, I think I can safely say there was not a man
in either army, from the commanders-in-chief to the humblest private in
the ranks, that knew how the battle had gone save one, and that one was
Gen. Robert E. Lee.
About 4 o'clock in the afternoon, while the cavalrymen were grazing
their horses in the rear of the infantry, a low, rumbling sound was
heard resembling distant thunder, except that it was continuous. A
private (one of my company) standing near me stood up and pointing
toward the battlefield said, "Look at that, will you?" A number of us
rose to our feet and saw a long line of wagons with their white covers
moving toward us along the road leading to Chambersburg.
Then he used this strange expression: "That looks like a mice." A slang
phrase often used at that time. He meant nothing more nor less than
this: "We are beaten and our army is retreating."
The wagons going back over the same road that had brought us to
Gettysburg told the story, and soon the whole army knew the fact. This
is the first time Lee's army had ever met defeat.
It is said that the loss of the two armies was about 50,000. This
probably included the prisoners; but there were not many prisoners taken
on either side. The major portion of the losses were in killed and
wounded.
The badly wounded were left on the field to be cared for by the enemy.
Those who could walk, and those who were able to ride and could find
places in the wagons, followed the retreating army.
The wagon train was miles and miles long. It did not follow the road to
Chambersburg very far, but turned off and took a shorter cut through a
mountainous district toward the point where the army had crossed the
river into Maryland. This wagon train was guarded by a large body of
cavalry, including my command.
Just as the sun was going down, dark ominous clouds came trooping up
from the west with thunder and lightning, and it was not long before the
whole heavens were covered and rain was falling in torrents.
I am not familiar with the topography of the country through which we
retreated, but all night long we seemed to be in a narrow road, with
steep hills or mountains on either side. We had with us a good many
cattle with which to feed the army. These got loose in the mountains and
hills covered with timber, and between their constant bellowing and the
flashes of lightning and crashing thunder the night was hideous in the
extreme. Wagons were breaking down, others getting stalled, and, to make
matters worse, about midnight we were attacked by the Union cavalry.
This mountainous road came out on a wide turnpike, and just at this
point Kilpatrick (commanding the Union cavalry) had cut our wagon train
in two and planted a battery of artillery with the guns pointing toward
the point from which we were advancing.
The cavalry which was stretched along the wagon train was ordered to the
front. It was with great difficulty that we could get past the wagons in
the darkness, and hence our progress was slow, but we finally worked our
way up to the front and were dismounted and formed in line as best we
could on either side of the road among the rocks and trees and then
moved forward in an effort to drive the battery away from its position
so we could resume our march. The only light we had to guide us was from
the lightning in the heavens and the vivid flashes that came from the
enemy's cannon. Their firing did not do much execution, as they failed
to get a proper range. Besides, we were so close to them they were
firing over our heads, but the booming of the guns that hour of night,
with the roar of the thunder, was terrifying indeed, and beyond
description. We would wait for a lightning flash and advance a few steps
and halt, and then for a light from the batteries and again advance.
In the meantime day was breaking, and the light from the sun was coming
in, and at this point our enemy disappeared and the march was resumed.
We were afraid that the wagons that had already passed out on the open
turnpike had been captured. There were about 200 of them, but such was
not the case.
With these wagons was our brigadier commander, Gen. Wm. E. Jones, and
two regiments of cavalry. They got so mixed up with the enemy's cavalry
that night that it was almost impossible to distinguish friend from foe.
Our general was a unique character, and many are the jokes that are told
on him. While this fighting was going on those about him would address
him as general. He rebuked them for this and said, "Call me Bill." The
explanation was that the enemy was so close to them (in fact, mixed up
with them) that they did not want him to know that there was a general
in the crowd.
Two days afterwards we got hold of one of the county papers, which, in
giving the account of this attack, stated that the rebel, Gen. Wm. E.
Jones, was captured. Perhaps but for the shrewdness of Gen. Wm. E. Jones
in having his men call him "Bill" instead of "General," it might have
been true. The firing among the horses attached to the wagons that had
gone out on the open pike frightened them to such an extent that they
were stampeded, and we saw the next morning as we rode along that some
of the wagons had tumbled over the precipice on the right, carrying with
them the horses; also the wounded soldiers that were riding in the
wagons.
The retreat was continued all the next day, the enemy's cavalry
attacking us whenever they could, but without effect.
When we reached the river we found that our pontoon bridge had been
partly swept away by the flood caused by the storm I have just spoken
of. There was nothing to do but make a stand until the bridge could be
repaired, or until the river should fall sufficiently to allow us to
ford it.
My recollection is that we remained on that side of the river about a
week. In the meantime the whole Northern army gathered in our front and
threatened us with destruction, but they seemed to be about as afraid of
us as we were of them; for instead of attacking us, they began to throw
up breastworks in their front to protect themselves from attack. This
greatly encouraged us, and even the privates in the ranks were heard to
remark, "We're in no danger, they're afraid of us; look at their
breastworks."
By the time the bridge was restored the river had fallen sufficiently to
allow the cavalry to ford it. The army leisurely crossed, the infantry,
artillery and wagons crossing on the bridge, while the cavalry waded
through the water. The passage was made at night.
Gen. Meade, who commanded the Northern army, was very much censured for
not attacking Lee while he was on the north side of the river. The
Government at Washington seemed to think it would have resulted in the
surrender of his army; but we in the ranks on the Confederate side had
no fear of such a disaster.
It is true, we were short of ammunition, but the infantry had the
bayonet and the cavalry the sabre, and we felt satisfied that we were
not in much danger.
I neglected to say that as we marched through the towns of Pennsylvania
it was distressing to see the sad faces of the populace as they gathered
at their front doors and windows watching us as we moved through their
streets. It resembled a funeral, at which all the people were mourners.
It was so different when we were marching through the cities and towns
of the South. There we were greeted by the people with waving flags and
smiling faces. Another thing we noticed which was quite different from
what we witnessed in our own land was a great number of young men
between the ages of 18 and 45 in citizen's clothes. This had a rather
depressing effect upon us, because it showed us that the North had
reserves to draw from, while our men, within the age limit, were all in
the army.
It is said that misfortunes never come singly.
No sooner had we reached the south bank of the Potomac than we heard
the distressing news that Vicksburg had fallen. This opened the
Mississippi river to Farragut's fleet of warships stationed at the mouth
of that river, and cut the Confederacy in two.
Then disaster followed disaster in that part of the field; but as I said
in the beginning, I am not writing a history of the war, and hence will
not attempt to follow the movements of the Western armies.
The question is often asked, "Why did Gen. Lee take his army into
Pennsylvania?" That question is easily answered.
For the same reason that the children of Israel went down into Egypt.
There was a famine in the land, and they went there for corn. Food was
growing scarcer and scarcer in the South, and it became a serious
question not only as to how the army was to be fed, but also the
citizens at home, the old men, women and children.
No supplies could be brought from beyond the Mississippi. Tennessee and
Kentucky were in the hands of the enemy, a great portion of Virginia; in
fact, the richest farming sections were ravished first by one army, then
by the other, making it impossible for the farmers to put in their
grain or reap their harvests.
The other States of the South grew mostly cotton and tobacco. All the
Southern ports were closely blockaded; hence the problem of sustaining
human life was growing more serious every day.
If Gen. Lee had been successful at the battle of Gettysburg his army
would have remained north of the Potomac until late in the fall, and
would have subsisted upon the country surrounding his camps. At the same
time, the farmers on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge and in the rich
valley of Virginia could have planted and reaped an abundant harvest,
which would have sufficed to have taken care of man and beast during the
long winter months; but Providence ruled otherwise, and Lee was
compelled to move his army back and provide for it as best he could.
Another question has been as often asked. "Why was Lee not successful at
Gettysburg?" Gen. Lee seemed to have anticipated this question, and
answered it in language almost divine when he said, "It was all my
fault." He hoped this would have quieted criticism, but it did not, and
for forty-odd years critics have been trying to fix the blame on
someone.
Of course, I cannot solve the problem, but I would suggest this: Gen.
Lee could not take the risk at Gettysburg that he took when he fought
his other battles. He was too far from his base of supplies. If he had
been defeated at Seven Pines, Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg,
Chancellorsville, the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, he would
have had the defences of Richmond to fall back upon. But not so at
Gettysburg. If he should be defeated there he must retain an army strong
enough to cut through the lines of the enemy, in order to reach his base
of supplies.
After three days' fighting at Gettysburg he had gone as far as he dared
go toward the depletion of his men and supplies; hence he ordered a
retreat, knowing that he was still strong enough to handle the enemy and
reach the south bank of the Potomac.
Some say it was because Jackson was not there; but the battles of the
Wilderness, Spotsylvania and Cold Harbor, where Grant was in command of
the Northern army, demonstrated that Lee could win victories without
Jackson. Perhaps what contributed most to Lee's defeat at Gettysburg was
the absence of the cavalry just at a time when he needed it most. Had
Stuart kept the cavalry between the two armies, and informed Lee as to
the movements of the enemy, he would not have been placed in such a
disadvantageous position as he was at Gettysburg. Then again, the enemy
had vastly superior numbers.
[Illustration: GEN. ROBERT E. LEE.
This picture was taken at the rear of General Lee's house on Franklin
street, Richmond, in April, 1865, immediately after his return from
Appomattox, and represents him in the style of uniform which he
habitually wore in the army.]
Whatever may have been the cause of his defeat, Gen. Lee, with the
magnanimity characteristic of him, said: "It was all my fault."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: The two armies, occupying opposite banks of the river near
Fredericksburg, began their march for Gettysburg June the 3rd, 1863,
moving northeast along the Rappahannock river, the cavalry of each army
marching between. When Lee reached the Blue Ridge he crossed it at three
different places, Chester Gap, Ashby's and Snickersville Gaps. The two
cavalry forces came together and fought quite a severe battle, beginning
at Aldie, below Middleburg, and extending to Paris, at the foot of the
mountain. Directly after this battle Stuart took the main part of his
cavalry, moved back as far as Salem, or Delaplane, as it is now called,
moved across the country in rear of the Federal army, passing Manassas
and Centerville, then marched direct for the Potomac, which he crossed
between Leesburg and Washington. Then through Maryland into Pennsylvania
as far as Carlisle, and there he turned south, arriving at Gettysburg on
the night after the second day of the battle, thus completely encircling
the Union army. (See map).
On its march down the Virginia valley to the Potomac Lee's army took
4000 prisoners, 25 cannon, 250 wagons, 400 horses, 269 small arms and
quantities of stores.]
[Footnote 3: The map only shows one point where Lee crossed into
Maryland, but the army divided before reaching the Potomac, one part
crossing at Williamsport, and the other at Shepherdstown, and, uniting
at Hagerstown, moved on toward Chambersburg. From this point, Lee sent a
portion of Ewell's division as far north as Carlisle, while another
portion marched to York, then to Wrightsville, on the Susquehanna river,
all returning in time to meet the Union army at Gettysburg.]
[Footnote 4: General Longstreet, in his book "From Manassas to
Appomattox," says the Confederate forces that crossed the Potomac were
75,568, and fixes the total of the Union army at 100,000, in round
figures. General Meade's monthly returns for June 30, shows 99,131
present for duty and equipped at Gettysburg.]