by Burke Davis
He did not explain to his officers. Major McClellan assumed that it was a signal to General Lee that the cavalry was in place—or that
he perhaps wanted to know whether Federal cavalry was within range before leaving his wooded hill. Whatever the reason, he had announced to the enemy his exact position. There was a wait before the bluecoats appeared, however. Stuart sent a courier back to Gettysburg to bring up Fitz Lee and Hampton; he planned an attack on the rear of the enemy infantry.
After a few minutes Jeb dismounted a battalion of riders from Ferguson's command and sent them to hold the Rummel Barn and a line of adjacent fence. They were hardly in place when Federal shells fell on Stuart's position; the fire was uncannily accurate, forcing Stuart's disabled guns to pull back. Bluecoats on foot ran in the open toward the Rummel Barn and overlapped the Confederate line. Stuart poured in more men.
Fighting grew hot on the right, around the contingent from Ferguson's command; these had advanced a little when their ten rounds of cartridges gave out. Only a charge by other troopers kept the bluecoats off them. Part of the pushing enemy force was from George Custer's command; it was driven back two hundred yards.
The first mounted men appeared on the field—a swift file of bluecoats which swept forward with as much dash as the Virginia horsemen had managed in their heyday. This charge cut the gray line behind the fence, but at the Rummel Barn one of Chambliss's squadrons struck in a pile-up of men and horses and flashing swords.
Stuart saw that General Gregg did not intend to allow an assault on Meade's rear. The enemy was as stoutly determined as they had been at Brandy Station or in the mountain passes in Northern Virginia.
Just as the Federals slowed, Wade Hampton arrived with the i st North Carolina and the Mississippi Legion, and there was charge and countercharge until all but two of Stuart's regiments were engaged. For once, Jeb outnumbered the enemy, but seemed unable to drive them. Then came the climactic Federal charge. Colonel William Brooke-Rawle, who rode with the bluecoats, left a vivid sketch of the action, which came almost at the moment Pickett's infantrymen were charging Cemetery Ridge, some three miles to the west:
"Gregg rode over to the 1st Michigan... formed close column of squadrons, and ordered it to charge. . . . Custer dashed up and placed himself at its head. The two columns drew nearer and nearer, the Confederates outnumbering their opponents three or four to one. The gait increased—first the trot, then the gallop. Hampton's battle flag floated in the van of the brigade.
"The orders of the Confederate officers could be heard by those in the woods on their left: 'Keep to your sabers, men, keep to your sabers.' For the lessons they had learned at Brandy Station and at Aldie had been severe. There the cry had been: ‘Put up your sabers! Draw your pistols and fight like gentlemen!' But the saber was never a favorite weapon with the Confederate cavalry, and now, in spite of the lessons of the past, the warnings were not heeded by all.
"... The speed increased, every horse on the jump, every man yelling like a demon. The column of the Confederates blended, but the perfect alignment was maintained. [The gunner] Chester put charge after charge of canister into their midst, his men bringing it up to the guns by the armful. The execution was fearful, but the long rent closed up at once. As the opposing columns drew nearer every man gathered his horse well under him, and gripped his weapon the tighter.
Staggered by the fearful execution from the two batteries, the men in the front line of the Confederate column drew in their horses and wavered... but those behind came pressing on. Custer, seeing the front men hesitate, waved his saber and shouted, 'Come on, you Wolverines!' and with a fearful yell the ist Michigan rushed on, Custer four lengths ahead."
Now, from woods on the flank, two small Federal parties struck the flying gray column. Almost every man in the first party was cut down, but the second broke through the gray column and rode back and forth, cutting off Confederates in the rear.
Brooke-Rawle wrote: "In the meantime, the two columns had come together with a crash—the one led by Hampton and Fitz Lee, and the other by Custer—and were fighting hand to hand. For minutes which seemed like hours, amid the clashing of the sabers, the rattle of the small arms, the frenzied imprecations, the demands for surrender, the undaunted replies, and the appeals for mercy, the Confederate column stood its ground."
A squadron of the 1st New Jersey drove in, lured by sight of a
Confederate officer near a color guard: It was Wade Hampton, and he went down in this attack with a gushing head wound.
Brooke-Rawle saw with relief: "The edge of the Confederate column had begun to fray away, and the outside men to draw back ... the enemy turned. Then followed a pell-mell rush, our men in close pursuit. Many prisoners were captured, and many of our men, through their impetuosity, were carried away by the overpowering current of the retreat.
"The pursuit was kept up past Rummel’s, and the enemy were driven back into the woods beyond. The line of fences and the farm buildings . . . which in the beginning of the fight had been in the possession of the enemy, remained in ours until the end."
But Major McClellan, at Stuart's side, saw it differently: "The impetuous attack of the Federal cavalry was finally broken, and both parties withdrew to the lines held at the opening of the fight."7
Artillerymen on both sides had fired when they dared, trying to avoid a slaughter of their own riders. But though Major Breathed had reached the field in time, and found good positions, the Federal artillery bested him at every turn. The guns banged at each other when the cavalry retired, and Breathed was forced to watch his own defective shells explode harmlessly over the field, halfway to their target—while the Federal bursts fell relentlessly on his batteries and destroyed several guns.
The affair was over. Stuajrt could see across the field a bluecoat brigade drawn up in reserve, not yet fought. There seemed no way to pass the lines of Gregg. Jeb withdrew to the hill and the ist Virginia went into a skirmish line on the field.
Stuart and McClellan rode near the barn. The premature bursting of Confederate shells was so frequent that McClellan urged Stuart to get back under cover; Stuart rode the front until he was satisfied that the enemy was through for the day.
Dr. Eliason worked at the Rummel Barn with wounded, most of them Federals, until almost eight o'clock in the evening.
The Federal loss on the field was 252; Stuart reported 181, with no return from the artillery or Ferguson's command. Losses were thus about equal, and Stuart had been unable to damage the enemy decisively.
After dark he led the men to the York turnpike and camped. At this hour Lee's main army was withdrawing to ridges west of Gettysburg, leaving the wreckage of Pickett's attack on the slopes before Cemetery Ridge. Stuart did not learn of this until late at night when he rode to headquarters and was told, in an atmosphere of gloom, that the army would lie the next day, and then retreat. His command was already exposed and isolated; he withdrew in the early morning of July fourth and joined the main army.
While Stuart fought, Union cavalry had struck gallantly at the far end of Lee's line, where Hood's Texans lay behind rock walls near the Round Tops, in difficult, broken terrain. The assault leader was General E. J. Farnsworth, lately promoted from captain; he was directed by Kilpatrick. There were many vain attacks.
The ist West Virginia charged the Texans and died by the score along a rail fence, trying to break it down with sabers; three times this regiment charged, and was cut to bits by musket fire.
Kilpatrick turned to Farnsworth: "Charge!"
"General, do you mean it?" Farnsworth said. "Over this ground, against an infantry brigade? These are too good men to kill like this."
"Do you refuse to obey my orders? If you're afraid I'll lead this charge."
Young Farnsworth stood in his stirrups, enraged. "Take that back!"
Kilpatrick apologized. "I didn't mean it."
After a moment Farnsworth said, "General, if you order the charge, I'll make it, but it must be on your re
sponsibility."
Soon the ist Vermont went through retreating skirmishers who begged them to turn back, passed the remnants of the West Virginia regiment, and went into a gallop. The 300 crossed the rocky front and emerged on a road in blinding sun, dashed through an ambush, and broke into the Confederate rear for more than a mile. They lost heavily. One of the casualties was Farnsworth, who shot himself with a pistol when an Alabama infantryman found him wounded and demanded his surrender. The Vermonters retreated, having accomplished their mission by drawing fire, piercing the Rebel flank and softening it for a possible infantry attack. It was in vain. The fighting was over.8
The cavalry brigades Stuart had left to guard the army's rear in Virginia had not closely followed the infantry, as they were ordered to do. In the welter of confusion and failure, Robertson had not crossed the Potomac until July first, and reached Cashtown, just west of Gettysburg, on July third. While Pickett's men charged and Stuart slashed vainly at the Federal flank, Robertson and Jones beat off a raid on the army's supply trains in the rear.
General Lee now ordered the rear-guard cavalry to nearby Fairfield, where the hundreds of wagons were parked. Jones, with three brigades, met the 6th U.S. Cavalry in a bloody fight in fields surrounded by stout rail fences that could not be broken. Riders charged over the open, but were halted at the rails, and fell under rifles of dismounted bluecoats. The 7th Virginia fled. Jones wrote: "A failure to rally promptly and renew the fight is a blemish in the bright history of this regiment."
The 6th Virginia came in, routed the enemy, and captured about 200 bluecoats. The wagons were safe.
Morning of July fourth brought a watery sun and lowering sky. In the infantry front men who had not eaten for more than a day crawled among the dead, rifling Federal knapsacks. Many retched at the sight and stench of the swollen corpses of men and horses which had lain there for three days. There was not a shot during the morning. General Longstreet expected a salute from the blue line at noon, greeting Independence Day, but the hour passed in silence. Old Pete said, "Their artillery was too much crippled yesterday to think of salutes. Meade is not in good spirits this morning."
Strangely, there was not a spirit of defeat in the army this morning; men waited hopefully for Federal attack on their hill. And though they could see the many casualties of Pickett's fateful charge on the far slopes, they were not in despair. That charge had cost almost 12,000 casualties, it was estimated, and of the fifteen field officers and four generals who had gone out with it, only Pickett and a lieutenant colonel returned unhurt.
The army gossiped quietly of what General Lee had said when it was over: "It's all my fault.... The blame rests on me. Form your line here, and be ready."
The cavalryman, John Imboden, had seen the commander late in the night, when all the staff and couriers had gone, when Lee said,
"It has been a sad, sad day to us Too bad! Oh, too bad!"
It was clear, at any rate, that the campaign was ended, and that there would be no triumphal march through Washington, Philadelphia or New York. The casualties were staggering: at least 20,000 Confederate, and more than 23,000 Federal.
At one P.M. a deluge of rain fell and Imboden, trying to get off with his miles of wagons bearing wounded, struggled with mules and great wheels in mud. The wounded lay in the driving rain, and their plight only worsened when they were moved under canvas, in the jarring wagons.
The train started early and the infantry followed at dark, A. P. Hill, then Longstreet, then Ewell. The Potomac was forty miles away, and fording might be difficult. Meade's army could be expected to follow. The cavalry was divided to cover the separate lines of march, with a body left behind on the Gettysburg ridges to keep up campfires and shield the rear. The movement southward began slowly; there was not a sign of rout.
There was no rest for the cavalry.
General Imboden's role as escort to the wounded was as trying as that of the squadrons who beat off raids on the infantry. He rode in the rain on the night of July fourth, trying to reach the head of the train of misery, seventeen miles long:
"From every wagon issued wails of agony. For four hours I galloped. I was never out of the hearing of the groans and cries of the wounded and dying. Many of them had been without food for thirty-six hours. Their torn and bloody clothing, matted and hardened, was rasping the tender inflamed wounds. The road was rough and rocky. The jolting was enough to have killed sound, strong men. From nearly every wagon came cries:
"'Oh, God! Why can't I die?'
" 'Will no one have mercy? Kill me and end my misery!'
" 'I am dying! My poor wife and children!'
"Some were praying; others were uttering the most fearful oaths and execrations. .. . There was no time even to fill a canteen of water for a dying man."
Imboden passed Greencastle, where citizens chopped down the wheels of the wagons of wounded, and were beaten off only by a cavalry squadron. There were minor attacks by the enemy, but at last he rolled into Williamsport, on the Potomac. There he had to lie in wait, with his few able-bodied men, clerks, cooks and cripples in a line of defense at the rear; the river was too high to ford, and must be bridged.
Far in the rear, in the passes of the Catoctin Mountains, Stuart's troopers fought in the rainstorm at night.
Captain G. M. Emack of the ist Maryland cavalry defended his pass as if it were Thermopylae:
"I came across a lieutenant of a North Carolina battery, who had but one gun and only two rounds of ammunition.... I directed him to put both charges in his gun and await orders. Sergeant Sam Spencer was placed in rear with five men, while I advanced down the road, accompanied by Private Edward Thomas, until I met the head of the enemy's column. It was then dusk and raining; and as we wore our gum coats the Federal cavalry failed to recognize us. Without making any demonstration we turned and retreated before them at a walk, shielding the guns as much as possible."
The gun fired through the bluecoats, and in the turmoil Emack and his handful charged on horseback, and drove them back "more than a mile." As he turned back he heard: "From the shouting and firing among the retreating enemy we concluded that they had become panic-stricken and were fighting among themselves."
Emack called up the rest of his company and waited until a final enemy advance drove the rear guard from its position. Emack could smile even now as the Federals staged "a general advance with mounted and dismounted men and with artillery, firing at every step, which to us was rather amusing, as we were about a mile distant and lying snugly on the ground."
The rest of the night was fearful for Emack. A silent Federal attack came so near that a skirmisher stepped on a prone Confederate, who killed his man and opened a new skirmish. Emack's men tried to hold their position with stones when ammunition failed. Behind them, they heard the profane effort of General Jones and his staff officers to drive men of the 4th North Carolina cavalry to aid Emack's party; these riders would not budge, except for ten reluctant volunteers who came into line.
The bluecoats soon overran the position, wounding Emack and capturing more than half of his men. Federal riders dashed along the wagon train, breaking the column and taking hundreds of the vehicles and their weary teams.9
Even in the Federal ranks it was a formidable night. Captain Willard Glazier rode with Kilpatrick's horsemen against Emack's gun: "The darkness was so intense that the guns could be of little use, except to make the night terribly hideous with their bellowings, the echoes of which reverberated in the mountain gorges in a most frightful manner. To add to the horrors the rain fell in floods, accompanied with groaning thunders, while lightning flashed from cloud to cloud, only to leave friend and foe enveloped in greater darkness."
The Federals saw the Confederates flee "in wild dismay," and rushed along the crowded road, seizing hundreds of prisoners and wagons "mostly laden with the ripened and gathered crops of Pennsylvania and Maryland, and with the plunder of public and private stores. None who saw it will ever forget the appearance of that
mountain road the day following."
Kilpatrick's men spread havoc among the wagons from three A.M. until daylight. The young general claimed to have destroyed nine miles of Ewell's wagon train, which seemed an exaggeration; Confederates were astounded at his claim of 1,860 prisoners. But there was no doubt that the blue tide had spilled through the pass into the valley beyond South Mountain, and Stuart's cavalrymen fell back.
At five P.M. of July fifth Stuart's column had a brush with the enemy near the hamlet of Smithburg, but though it seemed to the trooper Glazier that Kilpatrick had been "watching for him as a cat does a mouse," Jeb fought off the attack with ease, and followed the Federals toward Boonsboro, where they left their prisoners.
A Federal who had a glimpse of Stuart's men on this night wrote of them resting in Leitersburg: "A large number of his men were mounted on shoeless horses, whose leanness showed that they had made many a long march through and from Virginia. Or . . . they had fat horses stolen from the fields and stalls of the invaded states, but, being entirely unused to such hard and cruel treatment, were well nigh unserviceable."10
Stuart fought the next day near Hagerstown, just six miles from Williamsport, where the main army was concentrating for a crossing. The country was open, though much cut by fences; the two towns were connected by a straight macadamized road. The Federals were cleared from Hagerstown early, then driven from field to field, harried until they gave up a thrust at Williamsport. Jeb could not see all the fighting; a bluecoat sweep captured troopers from Robertson's and Chambliss's brigades at Hagerstown; gray infantry turned aside to aid the riders half a dozen times during the day. It was a scramble without hope of victory; Stuart's only aim was to keep the enemy cavalry out of the army's camps. General Buford confessed Jeb's success: "Just before dark Kilpatrick's troops gave way, passing to my rear, and were closely followed by the enemy. . . . The expedition had for its object the destruction of the enemy's trains, supposed to be at Williamsport. This, I regret to say, was not accomplished. The enemy was too strong for me, but he was severely punished for his obstinacy."
