THE GETTYSBURGH CAMPAIGN.
The rebels in Pennsylvania--Panic at Harrisburgh--Alarm at
Baltimore and Washington--Sixth corps leaves Bristow Station--A
surprise--General Meade takes command--Position of the
army--Marching through Pennsylvania--An unprecedented
march--Exciting news--Battle of Gettysburgh--Death of
Reynolds--First and Eleventh corps fall back--Second day's
battle--The battle-field--Fighting at Round Top--On the
right--The grand onset--The battle decided--Rebel and Union
wounded.
Meanwhile, great excitement prevailed at the north, especially in
Maryland and Pennsylvania, on account of the invasion of the rebel army.
As early as the 15th of the month, more than a thousand rebel cavalry
had reached Chambersburgh, which they had sacked. Two days before, the
battle of Winchester was closed. Ewell, with overwhelming numbers had
fallen upon General Milroy's force, which had unwisely been, by order of
somebody, thrust far away from its base, and out of the reach of
reinforcements, routing the division, and in its flight capturing its
artillery and a large portion of the infantry.
Nothing now opposed the march of the invaders through the Shenandoah
Valley. In Harrisburgh, the excitement rose almost to a panic. All the
paintings, books, papers, and other valuable articles, were removed from
the capitol, packed in boxes and loaded into cars, ready to be sent off
at the first sign of immediate danger. The citizens formed themselves
into military companies, and worked day and night throwing up redoubts
and rifle pits about the city. Men unaccustomed to manual labor
vigorously plied the pick and the spade, and kept up their unwonted toil
with an earnestness worthy of veteran soldiers. To add to this confusion
and alarm, the trains of Milroy's division that had escaped capture were
rattling through the streets in search of a resting place. Throughout
the State of Pennsylvania business was suspended. The governor was
calling loudly for men to rush to arms in defense of their homes; and
General Couch was striving to organize the militia which presented
itself.
Baltimore and Washington were like besieged cities. Stuart was
threatening the Baltimore and Ohio road, and bodies of rebel cavalry had
penetrated within half a dozen miles of Washington. Bells rung out the
alarm, and the affrighted citizens rushed to arms. Loyal leagues were
now of service, forming the nucleus of many an improvised company of
defenders. All these facts we learned from the newspapers, a few stray
copies of which fell within the path of the army, and from the highly
colored accounts of citizens, who, with expressions of the utmost alarm
and anxiety, related what they had heard or seen.
On the night of the 26th of June, the Sixth corps left Bristow Station.
The darkness was intense, and a drizzling rain rendered marching
disagreeable. The march was rapid, and some of the men fell behind, and
were next day collected and marched off to Richmond, by the guerilla
parties that constantly hung upon our flanks and rear. Before daylight
we halted at Centreville. The men threw themselves upon the wet ground,
and slept for two hours, while the rain beat upon them. Then, at six
o'clock, they were again roused, by the order to be ready to move at
once. While taking our coffee, and waiting for the final order to march,
some villain, belonging to the troops stationed at Centreville, set fire
to the little Episcopal chapel that stood not far from us, and was the
only building remaining in the little village which pretended to any
appearance of modern architecture. Those vandals who follow an army,
bent on nothing but destruction, are among the unavoidable evils of war,
and even the most severe discipline is insufficient to effectually
arrest all mischief of the kind.
Our march was a severe one for men who had been on the road all night,
and the men were glad when we bivouacked a little before dark, in a
beautiful oak grove near Drainsville. Very early next morning,
descending into the lovely valley of the Potomac, we reached Edwards'
Ferry, where troops were crossing; after a delay of one or two hours,
waiting for troops of another corps to cross the pontoon bridge, we
followed, and were in Maryland again. All day long troops were passing
over the bridges and taking their positions upon the neighboring hills,
ready for starting anew in the morning; for nearly the whole army was
crossing at this point, and as the process was necessarily slow, those
who went over first waited for those behind.
On Sunday, we left Edwards' Ferry; marched through Poolesville and
Barnstown to Hyattstown. A halt was made at Barnstown for dinner, and
the Sixth corps left the road and occupied a pleasant valley, where the
chestnut trees afforded a grateful shade for the men. They had just
unslung knapsacks, when we were all startled by the sound of a church
bell, which seemed in our midst. The boys gazed for a moment in mute
astonishment in the direction from which the sound came, when they
discovered at a short distance from them, a little church half hidden
among the trees, and the parishioners gathering for service. When the
first surprise was over, the word passed from one to another, "It is
Sunday!" "It is Sunday!" and they set up a shout that demonstrated that
they had not forgotten to love the institutions of civilization, even
after so long an absence from a civilized country. Few who were present
at this time, will ever forget the thrill of pleasurable surprise which
we all experienced at hearing once more the sounds which so forcibly
reminded us of home.
Some of the men attended the service. It was a Catholic church, a small
edifice which had once been white, but, by the action of the weather for
many years, it had now become brown. The seats and altar had never been
painted, and the plaster of the inner wall had, in places, fallen from
the lath. The parishioners seemed quite devout people, and the pastor a
sincere man. In his prayers he remembered the President and the
government, and he supplicated for peace. The reverend father said that,
owing to the confusion in town, there would be no sermon, but he wished
the good people to pray for sister A., who was at the point of death,
and for the repose of the soul of brother B., who was already dead. Some
of our officers engaged in a pleasant conversation with the pastor after
service. He was an agreeable, shrewd man, and professed to be a good
Unionist.
It was at Hyattstown that we first learned that General Hooker had been
superseded, in the command of the army, by General George B. Meade. The
announcement of this unexpected change at such a time, was received with
astonishment, and by many with indignation. To deprive the leader of a
great army of his command just upon the eve of a great battle, when, by
the most brilliant marches and masterly strategy, he had thrown this
army face to face with his enemy, thwarting his designs of moving upon
the capital, without some offense of a grave character, was an act
unheard of before in the history of warfare. It seemed, from later
information regarding this extraordinary measure, that a difference had
arisen between General Hooker and his superior at Washington in regard
to the disposition of troops at Harper's Ferry, and that, each refusing
to surrender his opinion, General Hooker was relieved. His successor
demanded the same disposition on the very next day, and it was granted!
The army was not dissatisfied with the appointment of General Meade; the
soldiers would as readily fight under Meade as under Hooker. They were
anxious to retrieve what had been lost at Chancellorsville, and would
have been glad could General Hooker have shared in the victory which
they believed they were about to achieve; but the men of the Union army
fought for their country and not for their leaders. So they at once
transferred their hopes and their obedience to the new commander.
General Meade was well known to the army as a good soldier, the brave
general who had, with his single division, dashed upon the rebels at the
first Fredericksburgh, and as the leader of a corps which behaved
gallantly at Chancellorsville. All were willing to try him, and hoped
for the best.
The movement from Fredericksburgh had been conducted with consummate
skill and energy, and now the army was moving in several columns by
roads nearly parallel, with the twofold object of greater rapidity of
movement, and of sweeping a greater extent of country.
The Sixth corps was now upon the extreme right, marching toward
Manchester; next, on our left, was the Twelfth corps, at Taneytown, a
little hamlet named in honor of the chief justice of the United States,
whose residence was there. At a point a dozen miles north and west of
us, was the head-quarters of the army, and the Second and Third Corps.
Further to the left, at Emmitsburgh, were the First, Fifth and Eleventh
corps. Upon either flank of this line, extending twenty miles, was
cavalry. Thus the army was guarding a great extent of country, at the
same time that the different corps were within supporting distance of
each other.
The rebel army under General Lee, one hundred thousand strong, occupied
an equally extended line to the north and west of us, stretching from
Harrisburgh through Chambersburgh and Cashtown.
At five o'clock, Monday morning, 28th, the corps marched again, passing
through Monroville, New Market, Ridgeville and Mount Airy Station,
halting for the night at Sam's creek. As the corps passed through
Westminster on the following day, the people welcomed us with
demonstrations of joy, which were all the more earnest, as the rebel
cavalry had, but two hours before, taken a hasty leave of them. At night
we were at Manchester, at least twenty miles from the left of the army,
and between the line of march of the enemy and Baltimore. We rested here
until evening of the next day. The plot was thickening, and the hostile
forces were moving cautiously, each watching the movements of the other,
and each ready to seize any opportunity for rushing upon its enemy to
destroy it. Thus far our marches had been of most fatiguing character.
We had, in the last four days, passed over one hundred miles of road. It
is to be remembered that these marches were made under burning suns, and
that each soldier carried with him his gun, knapsack, haversack,
containing five days' provisions, and forty rounds of cartridges. The
men had kept up wonderfully during this trying campaign, but the great
march of all, in which this magnificent corps was to outdo all that was
ever recorded of wonderful marches, was yet in store for it.
We waited at Manchester until evening. The inhabitants were well
supplied with rye whisky, and it must be confessed that soldiers have a
way of finding out the existence of that luxury, and of supplying
themselves with it; and as the men of the old Sixth corps were in no
respect behind their comrades of the other corps, many of our brave
fellows became, long before dark, considerably inebriated.
At nine o'clock in the evening of the 1st of July, we were on the road,
but it was eleven before we were fairly under headway. Those who during
the day had indulged so freely in the rye whisky of the farmers, as to
disable them from marching or even standing in line, were quietly thrown
into the clumps of bushes by the roadside, and left to be gathered up by
cavalry squads that were scouring the country for stragglers. Those that
were left by our own provost-guards were picked up by rebel scouts.
The column now pushed rapidly on; all night the weary march was kept up.
A halt of ten minutes for breakfast, and then on again. Now we heard
that a part of the army, the First corps, had already engaged the enemy
at Gettysburgh, with doubtful issue, and that its commander, General
Reynolds, was killed.
New ardor was now kindled in the breasts of the men of the Sixth corps
at these tidings, and they pressed forward at a pace unusual, even for
them. The day was bright, the sun pouring scalding rays from a cloudless
sky. The men strove hard to keep in the ranks, for few in that corps
were willing to be left behind in a fight.
Yet some gave out from exhaustion, but even these, at a slower pace,
followed the rapidly moving column.
At the houses on the roadsides, the citizens, their wives and daughters,
were bringing water, from which the soldiers filled their canteens as
they passed. At Littletown we saw citizens bringing the wounded from the
field in their carriages, and many wounded soldiers who could walk were
making their way to the village. The marching was more rapid. Our
friends were waiting for us. Soon we saw above the valley that lay
before us, clouds of smoke and the white puffs of bursting shells. As
yet we could distinguish little of the sound of battle, but those small
fleecy clouds which appeared so suddenly, flashing forked lightning,
told us of work ahead. It was five o'clock when the Sixth corps arrived
on the battle-field, having made an unprecedented march of thirty-four
miles! We halted in reserve, not to rest, but to wait a few moments
until our place should be assigned us in front. We had more marching to
do! Four miles more of marching and countermarching that night, made
thirty-eight miles in a single day. Such marching as had been done by
the Sixth corps since leaving Bristow Station, is unparalleled in the
history of armies.
The roar of battle was terrific. On our left, where rose a hill covered
with timber on the top and side, a fearful struggle seemed in progress,
and the roll of musketry and the rapid discharge of artillery was almost
deafening.
Let us now turn back and review the operations of the First and the
Eleventh corps since yesterday morning. We give it as it was related to
us by members of the First and Eleventh corps. General Buford,
commanding the cavalry on the left flank of the army, had advanced north
of the town of Gettysburgh, and had fallen in with large bodies of
cavalry, supported by infantry. He became hotly engaged with this force,
and at once reported the information to General Meade that he had found
the enemy in large force. General Reynolds, who, with the First corps
had by this time reached Marsh creek, within easy striking distance of
Gettysburgh, was directed to urge his troops forward to Gettysburgh as
rapidly as possible. The corps pushed on, and reaching Gettysburgh,
filed through the town, leaving it to the rear. General Buford was found
fiercely struggling to maintain his position against the infantry of the
enemy. At once, General Reynolds proceeded to select a position for his
line of battle. Without a moment's hesitation, the corps was deployed;
the division of Wadsworth, leading the van, was in position; a battery
which had been brought to the front was slowly forced back, but the
gallant Wadsworth, bringing more infantry into line, arrested the
retreat, and in turn forced back the hostile forces, who were now found
to be in large numbers. It was at this time that General Reynolds,
riding forward with a few members of his staff, to inspect the field
with the view of bringing the rest of his troops into favorable
position, was shot through the neck, the enemy having, at the moment,
opened a full volley of musketry. The noble commander, feeling the
wound, turned to his soldiers and shouted, "Forward men! for God's sake,
forward!" and fell, dying, into the arms of one of his companions.
This sad loss only fired the hearts of the soldiers to more desperate
determination, and they rushed into line upon the run, burning to avenge
their beloved leader. General Doubleday, of the Second division of the
corps, was next in rank, and took command. The encounter was sharp, and
the rebels were giving way. Three hundred prisoners were brought in, and
the corps was put into position to hold its ground. The force of the
enemy now engaged, proved to be the corps of General A. P. Hill, and the
prisoners declared that the rest of the confederate army was close at
hand. A column of the enemy now moved toward the left of our line,
debouching from a piece of woods, and occupying a close proximity to our
forces. Volley after volley was poured into the advancing column,
without avail, except to stretch many of its men upon the ground,
wounded and dying.
At length the brigades of Doubleday's own division were ordered to
charge upon the obstinate line. They obeyed with alacrity, their cheers
and shouts ringing above the roar of musketry. The rebels gave way
before this impetuous charge, and several hundred more prisoners were
brought in.
Thus far the First corps was victorious, but its ranks were becoming
terribly thinned.
In the meantime, General Howard, with the Eleventh corps, was hastening
to the assistance of the First. Just before receiving his fatal wound,
General Reynolds had sent a messenger to Howard, who, with his corps,
was ten miles behind, to hasten forward as rapidly as possible.
The men of that corps were burning to wipe out the unfortunate record of
Chancellorsville, and the roar of artillery before them, inspired vigor
in their movements and urged them forward; but the noise of the battle
was heard by others.
Ewell, with his confederates, was but three miles off; and while the
Unionists looked for the coming of help, a fresh corps reinforced the
rebels. But the opposing forces were, for the time, willing to allow a
lull in the battle. So, from ten o'clock until half-past two the First
corps held the enemy at bay. By this time a division of the Eleventh
corps was on the ground and another on the other side of Gettysburgh.
General Howard took command. The Union reinforcements were just
arriving; those of the rebels had already taken their position, and were
ready for a desperate charge.
Suddenly, rushing from the cover of the woods in which they had
debouched from the York road, the old corps of Stonewall Jackson, now
under Ewell, charged, with yells, down upon the Eleventh. The Germans,
this time stood their ground, returning with spirit, the volleys of
their old antagonists.
On the left, Hill was also charging fiercely upon the First corps, and
the sturdy divisions of Wadsworth and Cutler were almost destroyed.
The rebel line now overlapped that of the Union forces on either flank,
and the two corps under Howard were in danger of being surrounded by the
greater numbers of their adversaries. The lines began to waver under the
fearful storm of lead and iron, and the order was given to fall back.
The lines retired in good order until they reached the town. There, in
passing through the streets, the Germans became confused and alarmed,
and the retreat of the corps became a rout. Twelve hundred were taken
prisoners in the streets. The First corps maintained its line of battle
and held its foe at a distance in spite of the deadly fire which was
decimating its ranks. The heroic Wadsworth cheered and encouraged his
men by his own noble example, while the messengers of death shrieked
thickly about him. On the right of the corps, Hill had already forced
back the line, and now the Eleventh corps having left him, both flanks
of his division were exposed. It was useless to protract the hopeless
struggle, and these sturdy troops also fell back, retiring slowly and
firmly, while the rebels, flushed with victory, were pouring into front
and flank the most deadly fire. It was a moment of vital importance to
our army and our cause. A rout of these two corps, while the remaining
two-thirds of the army was separated in columns far distant from each
other, must insure the destruction of each column in detail, and give to
the rebels undisputed sway throughout the north. But the christian hero,
whose empty sleeve testified of hard fought fields before, was still
sufficient for the crisis. Halting the retreating divisions as they
reached the line of hills upon the south side of the town, and selecting
a ridge called Cemetery Hill for his second line of battle, he reformed
his disordered ranks, and planting batteries so as to sweep the
declivity in front and on right and left, awaited the onset of the
victorious hosts. On they came, until half through the town, when, from
the whole line of guns on the crest, burst a murderous fire, from which
the assailants staggered in consternation.
The tide was turned; for now a part of Hancock's Second corps was coming
up, and in half an hour the rebels retired, and the one-armed general
was master of the situation. But the day had been a fearful one for the
two corps.
The First corps had lost its general, loved and admired for his bravery.
Hundreds from the ranks of the corps, lay beyond the village stretched
in death. Of those who went into the fight in the morning, but one-half
remained.
The havoc was almost as fearful in the Eleventh corps. Hundreds had been
killed and a greater number captured. Yet there was no faltering among
those veterans, and when, toward evening, the Third and Twelfth corps
arrived upon the field, their confidence and hope rose, and all now
believed that our army was yet destined to achieve a grand victory.
No further demonstrations were made on either side that night. Each
party was gathering its strength for the grand conflict. Late in the
evening General Meade arrived on the field, and with General Howard
proceeded to inspect the ground, and make arrangements for posting the
troops of the army.
The Eleventh corps was still to occupy Cemetery Hill, just opposite the
town. Upon a knoll to the right of the Eleventh corps was the First
corps, and still farther, and forming the extreme right of the army, was
the Twelfth corps, General Slocum. On the left of Cemetery Hill,
occupying the extension of the ridge and a prominent hill, Round Top,
the Third corps, General Sickles, was posted, and the Second corps,
General Hancock. The Fifth corps was to be held in reserve until the
arrival of the Sixth corps. Thus through the night, the two armies lay
upon their arms, each watching the other, to wake to a contest more
fearful than the last.
At daylight Thursday morning, July 2d, the rebel skirmishers opened fire
upon parts of our lines of pickets, but there was little betokening any
general engagement. Occasionally a few of the skirmishers of the enemy,
would make a charge upon parts of our line forcing back the pickets, but
a gun from some one of our batteries would hastily send them to the rear
again. Doubtless it was for the purpose of disclosing the positions of
our batteries, that their dashes were made. Thus the day wore on until
four o'clock.
General Sickles, with the Third corps, had moved out beyond the general
line of battle nearly a mile, and had come upon the advance of the
enemy, where Longstreet, with one-third of the rebel army, was
concentrating his forces against the left flank, with the hope of
turning it and seizing the ridge.
The battle opened at once. Seven batteries of artillery opened upon
front and flank of the exposed corps, and large bodies of infantry in
column by division. The corps withstood the shock heroically, and was
soon strengthened by troops from the Second corps. Our artillery now
opened upon the rebels from the ridge, and hurled destruction upon them.
The valley was filled with bursting missiles, and the smoke rolled up in
huge columns. It was at this stage of the great battle that the Sixth
corps arrived on the ground, after its unparalleled march, and the Fifth
corps was at once ordered into the fight. For an hour the Sixth corps
was the reserve of the army, but even this reserve was soon called into
action.
The writer, while our corps waited for orders, rode along the front,
from where the Second and Third corps were engaged in their deadly
struggle with the enemy, across Cemetery Ridge and to the hill where, on
the right of the line, Slocum had established his head-quarters, and he
will attempt to describe the field as he saw it.
To form a correct idea of the position of the armies, one should imagine
two ranges of hills, between which was the valley and the village of
Gettysburgh.
These ridges are nearly parallel, and are from a mile to a mile and a
half asunder. Their course is not a direct line but curving. The ridge
on which our forces are posted, bend outward and backward, so that the
line is in the form of a half circle, fronting from the center, while
the rebels were forced to occupy an exterior line facing towards the
center.
At Gettysburgh several roads converge, first, on the right is the
Baltimore turnpike, next is the road to Taneytown, and further to the
left is the Emmitsburgh road. These all meet at Cemetery Hill, which is
the key to the whole situation.
Cemetery Hill is in the center of a range of hills running south and
west from Gettysburgh, and considerably in front of the others. Standing
upon its summit, the spectator looks down upon the village, a little to
his right and upon the long declivity stretching between the crest and
the town.
The crest of this ridge is bristling with batteries, which are so
arranged as to sweep the declivity, the valley below, and the opposite
range of hills. Here, by the side of the Baltimore pike, General Howard
has his head-quarters, and just in front lie long lines of infantry, who
wear the crescent badge, which distinguishes the Eleventh corps.
Stretching to the left and rear, Cemetery Ridge gradually diminishes in
elevation, until it reaches an abrupt peak which rises considerably
above the other hills of the range. This is Round Top. It is covered
with timber at its summit, its sides are rugged, and, toward the enemy,
quite steep. On the north slope of Round Top, the Second and Third corps
are maintaining the unequal struggle with one-third of the rebel army.
The roar of musketry is awful beyond description, and the whole valley
trembles with the thunder of the artillery. On the right of Cemetery
Ridge is another elevation, Slocum's Hill, where the commander of the
Twelfth corps sits among the huge fragments of rock, watching his own
and the enemy's line in his front, and where is another battery, which
from time to time is sending its screaming messengers to the hills
beyond or across a little stream which winds along the right of his
position.
In rear of Slocum's Hill is a little whitewashed cottage, surrounded by
a picket fence. There are two or three wall tents in the yard, and many
horses are tied to the fence. This is the head-quarters of the army.
From this point General Meade is directing all the movements of the
Union forces.
It will be seen that our troops could be sent from one point to another
of the line, easily and quickly, while the rebels, who occupied the
exterior of the circle, must make long circuits in order to reinforce
one part of the field with troops from another. For the first time since
Malvern Hill, our forces had the advantage of position.
The rebel lines which had so fiercely attacked the Third corps, steadily
advanced, pouring destruction before them, while the two corps, unable
to resist the weight of the advancing columns, steadily fell back. At
the moment that the Sixth corps reached the field, the Fifth were
rushing to the assistance of the wavering lines on Round Top.
It was a glorious spectacle, as the veteran wearers of the St. Andrew's
cross rushed along the rear of the peak and among the rocks, at
double-quick, and then suddenly moving by the flank, formed in line of
battle. Through the woods and down the slope they rush, fall upon the
advancing columns, and check their progress. The Union line now advance
upon the rebels, who fall back more. Shot and shells pour in a fearful
storm from the rebel batteries, sweeping the slope of Round Top and the
crest of Cemetery Hill. Here, near Howard's quarters, a train of
ambulances and army wagons attract the fire of the enemy, and the
bursting shells soon send them hurrying through the narrow defile in the
rocks through which the road passes, panic stricken. For more than two
hours the desperate battle rages on the left, while the right, except
that on either side artillery belches forth its thunders, is quiet. The
Sixth corps, the only reserve of the army, is also put into the line on
the left; only one brigade, Neill's, is sent to the right to reinforce
Slocum, who has also sent a great portion of his corps to the left, and
against whom the rebels are now charging. The doubtful contest ceases as
darkness gathers over the battle-field, leaving the rebels still in
possession of some of the ground occupied by Sickles' corps at four
o'clock.
Both armies again lay upon their arms, waiting for daylight, by which to
renew the contest. The losses in the Second and Third corps had been
fearful, and scarcely less were those of the Fifth. From our own Sixth
corps, there were many killed and wounded, but compared with these
others, the loss was slight. General Sickles had been wounded early in
the fight, and suffered amputation of a leg. The morning of July 3d
dawned brightly, and at once the rattle of musketry told of the renewal
of strife. On the right, where Slocum with a single division of his own
troops and our Third brigade of Howe's division, Sixth corps, held the
long line, an attempt was made to retake the rifle pits which the rebels
had captured yesterday. The rebels in turn charged furiously. They had
possession of some of our pits, and now they hoped to turn our flank and
rout the army; but the small force replied to the desperate charge of
the whole of Ewell's corps with the most stubborn resistance. Charge
after charge was made, but to no avail. At length Neill's brigade passed
far to the right of the rebel line, and poured an enfilading volley into
the gray-coats. They, supposing that a heavy force had got on their
flank withdrew, when our forces charging in turn, drove them with great
loss from the rifle pits, which were held during the remainder of the
engagement in spite of repeated efforts to dislodge our forces. By noon
quiet prevailed along the whole line, except that now and then a shot
from some of our batteries screamed across the valley, but eliciting no
reply. The rebel lines could be seen moving here and there as if
preparing for a desperate struggle. The men at our batteries declared
that so completely had they got the range of the other crests that the
rebels dare not open a piece. Little did they imagine that more than a
hundred guns were concentrating just behind the little strip of woods
below them.
This unwonted silence continued until about one o'clock, when suddenly,
as though pandemonium had broken loose, the air was filled with the
shrieks, screams, howls and clangor of bursting shells. The sky was
filled with smoke, amid which flames darted in every direction, and the
valley and hills quaked with the thunders of artillery. Never on this
continent had been heard such cannonading as this. For two hours this
storm of shell and shot raged in all its fury. At the first opening of
the storm, parts of our line were forced back, but they quickly advanced
again. Horses and men fell together, mangled and torn by the screaming
missiles. In some of our batteries every horse was destroyed, and the
men drew back the pieces by hand to save them from capture. One hundred
and twenty-five guns were concentrated against our left center, which
continued for two hours to belch forth death and destruction. At length,
when it was supposed that our guns were silenced, and our infantry
confused by the fearful cannonade, came the expected charge of infantry.
Longstreet's corps, massed, with Picket's division in front, rushed
forward with the well known yells, which rang above the clangor of
musketry and artillery, and threw themselves with utmost fury upon the
Union lines. Our men had waited the onset with unflinching courage, and
now poured into the assailants a most murderous fire, which hurled them
back and strewed the ground with their dead and dying. Again, with the
fierceness of desperation, they rush forward, and again are met with the
same deadly reception. Hundreds from the attacking columns, in order to
escape the certain doom, threw down their arms and came in as prisoners.
The tide of battle lulled for a time.
Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the
last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the
Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel
army.
The heavy masses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness.
They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points,
actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires,
from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the
whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the
fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in
confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.
This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this
last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with
enormous losses.
No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once
driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and
they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or
submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in
great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed
chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving
as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were
brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet,
notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed
heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor
fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word
of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.
In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of
the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded
that he could by no possibility assume a cheerful countenance, would
shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he
could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick
child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a
field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at
the stoical bravery manifested by the northern troops. If one had passed
along where our men were lying in rows, he would only now and then have
heard a groan escape from some poor fellow who had received a bullet
through the abdomen or some such fatal and painful wound. But let a
group of wounded rebels be placed in some part of the hospital, and
their groans were heart-rending. This contrast is not overdrawn. Every
surgeon who has had opportunities to observe the difference in the
bearing of wounded men of the two armies, can testify to the greater
heroism of the northern soldier at such times.