by Rod Gragg
A strange and awful spectacle followed in those same streets at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Overwhelmed, beaten, completely routed in their conflict with Ewell’s command, they fled back through the town in wild disorder. There were 2,500 men made prisoners in the streets before our eyes. Our family now took to the cellar, where a window afforded a partial view. In the rear of the fleeing, routed troops the artillery lingered, turning now and then to fire a deterring shot, and, as best it might, protect the despairing retreat. But the Confederates kept at their very backs. As I stared from the window, I saw a Union soldier running, his breath coming in gasps, a group of Confederates almost upon him. He was in full flight, not turning or even thinking of resistance. But he was not surrendering, either. “Shoot him! Shoot him!” yelled a pursuer. A rifle cracked and the fugitive fell dead at our door. One after another fell that way in the grim chase from the Carlisle road.
There came a lull in the stream of runners and their hunters. Then came a thunderous pounding fell upon our door by fists and boots. I ran upstairs. One of our own [Pennsylvania] Bucktails named Burlingame, wounded in the leg was there supported by a group of his comrades who would not desert him, and demanded shelter. We took him in, with two of the others, who said they would stay with him. Half an hour later a detail of Confederates arrived and insisted on searching the house. It was impossible to conceal the wounded man. They found him in father’s study! His comrades they ferreted out of the cellar. Those they took with them, prisoners; but Burlingame they allowed to remain with us because of his wounds....
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“Our Family Now Took to the Cellar”
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By 5 o’clock that Wednesday afternoon Gettysburg was fully in the enemy’s possession. Dole’s brigade of the Rodes division in Ewell’s corps quartered itself in our immediate neighborhood. They tore down all our fences to let the troops pass readily; but the harshest critic would find it difficult to find fault with their conduct. They were Georgians, all gentlemanly, courteous and as considerate of the townspeople as it was possible for men in their position to be. The next morning after they had breakfast, I saw a whole crew of them reading from their pocket testaments. Of course, they breathed fire and fury at their foes; they were full of what they were going to do to the hated North; but they were kindly, courteous, Christian gentlemen, none the less.
The evening of the battle’s first day fell very quiet and still. The college and the seminary were crowded with wounded. But it seemed as though a merciful hush had been laid on the warring passions of mankind....
In contrast to some of the Eleventh Corps troops, Colonel Rufus Dawes of the 6th Wisconsin Infantry led his Black Hats through the Gettysburg streets with measured discipline. All around him, however, he saw signs of panic and fear. Years later, he would describe the retreat through Gettysburg.
The streets were jammed with crowds of retreating soldiers, and with ambulances, artillery, and wagons. The cellars were crowded with men, sound in body, but craven in spirit, who had gone there to surrender. I saw no men wearing badges of the first army corps in this disgraceful company. In one case, these miscreants, mistaking us for the rebels, cried out from the cellar, “Don’t fire, Johnny, we’ll surrender.”
These surroundings were depressing to my hot and thirsty men. Finding the street blocked, I formed my men in two lines across it. The rebels began to fire on us from houses and crosslots. Here came to us a friend in need. It was an old citizen with two buckets of fresh water. The inestimable value of this cup of cold water to those true, unyielding soldiers, I would that our old friend could know.
After this drink, in response to my call, the men gave three cheers for the good and glorious cause for which we stood in battle. The enemy fired on us sharply, and the men returned their fire, shooting wherever the enemy appeared. This firing had a good effect. It cleared the street of stragglers in short order. The way being open I marched again toward the Cemetery Hill. The enemy did not pursue; they had found it dangerous business....
If fresh troops had attacked us then, we unquestionably would have fared badly. The troops were scattered over the hill in much disorder, while a stream of stragglers and wounded men pushed along the Baltimore Turnpike toward the rear. But this perilous condition of affairs was of short duration. There was no appearance of panic on the Cemetery Hill. After a short breathing spell my men again promptly responded to the order to “fall in.” Lieutenant Rogers brought us orders from General Wadsworth, to join our own brigade, which had been sent to occupy Culp’s Hill.
With two Colt revolvers tucked in his belt and a pipe in his mouth, a New York soldier strikes a jaunty pose. At Gettysburg, the Army of the Potomac’s Eleventh Corps included troops from eleven New York infantry regiments and two New York artillery batteries.
Library of Congress
As we marched toward the hill our regimental wagon joined us. In the wagon were a dozen spades and shovels. Taking our place on the right of the line of the brigade, I ordered the regiment to intrench. The men worked with great energy. A man would dig with all his strength till out of breath, when another would seize the spade and push on the work. There were no orders to construct these breast- works, but the situation plainly dictated their necessity. The men now lay down to rest after the arduous labors of this great and terrible day.
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“The Shadow of Defeat Seemed to Be Hanging over Us”
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Sad and solemn reflections possessed, at least, the writer of these papers. Our dead lay unburied and beyond our sight or reach. Our wounded were in the hands of the enemy. Our bravest and best were numbered with them. Of eighteen hundred men who marched with the splendid brigade in the morning, but seven hundred were here. More than one thousand men had been shot. There was to us a terrible reality in the figures which represent our loss. We had been driven, also, by the enemy, and the shadow of defeat seemed to be hanging over us....9
“It Was a Moment of Most Critical Importance”
A Confederate Opportunity to Attack the Weakened Federal Army is Rejected
As Federal troops scrambled through town heading for Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg’s town square filled with victorious, celebrating Confederate soldiers. To many, it appeared as if “Uncle Robert”—as Lee’s troops reverently called him—had prevailed again, and had won the great victory on Northern soil that might spur an end to the war and establish Southern nationhood. Others were not so certain—not yet. General Ewell’s subordinates—Generals Rodes, Early, Gordon, and others—were restless and impatient to follow up on the victory and move against the enemy troops amassing around Cemetery Hill and the ridge running south from it—to break the Army of the Potomac before its defeated troops could be rallied and reorganized. General Ewell, however, would not take action.
At forty-six, Ewell was bearded, balding, profane, and witty. A West Pointer who had fought the Mexicans at Churubusco and fought the Apache out West, he was known to be a dependable, courageous combat officer. He had b division commander under “Stonewall” Jackson, and now commanded son’s former troops as a corps commander. “Old Bald Head”—as he w known in the ranks—had lost his right leg at Second Bull Run and wor a wooden replacement. Riding through Gettysburg with General Gordon, Ewell was hit by a stray bullet which struck his wooden leg. “Are you hurt, sir?” Gordon quickly asked. “No, no, I’m not hurt,” Ewell joked. “It don’t hurt to be shot in a wooden leg.” To his thinking, he had sound reasons for not attacking Cemetery Hill: his available troops were battered from the day’s brutal fighting, their momentum had been slowed by the street fighting in town, and some of his corps—Major General Edward Johnson’s division—had not yet arrived. Furthermore, General Lee’s most recent orders directed him to attack “if practicable”—and to Ewell, a follow-up assault was not “practicable.”
Another subordinate, the feisty sixty-one-year-old Major General Isaac Trimble, would later state that he offered to personally lead an attac
k on Federal positions assembling near Culp’s Hill. “Give me a Brigade and I will engage to take that hill,” he reportedly urged Ewell. When Ewell said nothing in reply, Trimble cried in frustration, “Give me a good regiment and I will do it!” Yet Ewell ignored him. Some officers, including the aggressive Jubal Early, supported Ewell’s decision, but his reluctance to attack made others yearn for “Stonewall” Jackson and his irrepressible hammer-like attacks. They believed a priceless opportunity to decisively defeat the Federal army was wasted. “Oh,” said one, “for the presence and inspiration of ‘Old Jack’ for just one hour!” By the time Lee could consult with General Ewell in person, everyone agreed that it was too late to mount an attack. In the gathering darkness, the sound of spades breaking earth could be heard from the direction of Cemetery Hill—the Federal army was digging in for another day’s fighting.
A West Pointer and a veteran commander who had lost a leg in battle, Lieutenant General Richard Ewell was viewed by some as a successor to “Stonewall” Jackson—but his decisions at Gettysburg made some Southern officers yearn for Jackson.
Library of Congress
Captain James Power Smith, a twenty-seven-year-old aide-de-camp to Ewell, witnessed the controversy. A Presbyterian preacher’s son and a seminary graduate, Smith had been an aide to “Stonewall” Jackson, enjoying a relationship that some described as akin to that of a father and son. After Jackson’s death, Smith became an aide to General Ewell and served under him at Gettysburg. Years later, he would pen an account of the events surrounding Ewell’s decision not to attack the defeated and weakened Army of the Potomac.
Sixty-one-year-old Major General Isaac Trimble urged General Ewell to follow up on the Confederate first-day victory and attack the defeated Federal army while it was weak. “Give me a good regiment and I will do it!” Trimble vowed, but Ewell declined.
Wikimedia Commons Images
About 5 P. M., I rode with General Ewell and staff into the town square of Gettysburg. The square was filled with Confederate soldiers, and with them were mingled many prisoners, while scarcely a citizen was to be seen. As our corps commander sat in his saddle under the shade of a tree, a young officer brought from a cellar a bottle of wine, which the General pleasantly declined, while he chatted amiably with his men, and the Federal prisoners gathered about him. It was a moment of most critical importance, more evidently critical to us now, than it would seem to any one then. But even then, some of us who had served on Jackson’s staff, sat in a group in our saddles, and one said sadly, “Jackson is not here.”
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“Jackson Is Not Here”
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Our corps commander, General Ewell, as true a Confederate soldier as ever went into battle, was simply waiting for orders, when every moment of the time could not be balanced with gold. General Early and General Rodes came with great earnestness and animation to tell of the advanced position. They desired General Lee to be informed that they could go forward and take Cemetery hill if they were supported on their right; that to the south of the Cemetery there was in sight a position commanding it which should be taken at once; and I was sent by General Ewell to deliver the message to the commanding general.
I found General Lee quite well to the right, in an open field, with General Longstreet, dismounted, and with glasses inspecting the position to the south of Cemetery hill. When I delivered my message, General Lee gave me his glasses and said that the elevated position in front was he supposed the commanding position of which Early and Rodes spoke, that some of “those people” were there (a few mounted men, apparently reconnoitering), that he had no force on the field with which to take that position; and turning to Longstreet asked where his troops were, and expressed the wish that they might be brought immediately to the front. General Longstreet replied that his front division, McLaws, was about six miles away, and then was indefinite and noncommittal.
General Lee directed me to say to General Ewell that “he regretted that his people were not up to support him on the right, but he wished him to take the Cemetery hill if it were possible; and that he would ride over and see him very soon.” Whatever the opportunity was, it was lost. Early and Rodes were ready for the assault; A. P. Hill felt the losses in his command and waited for third division, Anderson’s, and General Ewell, waiting for his third division, Johnson’s, and diverted by a false alarm on his left, lacked initiative and looked for instructions from his commander.... As the sun went down, Edward Johnson arrived on the northwest of the field. General Lee came over and conferred with Generals Ewell, Early and Rodes, outside of the town, on the Carlisle road. All had abandoned attack for that evening....
Captain James P. Smith had served as a chief aide to General Jackson, before accepting a similar post with General Ewell. Observing Ewell’s decision not to attack the defeated Federals, Smith concluded, “Whatever the opportunity was, it was lost.”
Photographic History of the Civil War
As Lee gave up his hope for a climactic, decisive attack on the defeated Federal forces, the exhausted troops of the Army of the Potomac began to bed down on Cemetery Hill and along Cemetery Ridge. They had been rallied and redeployed—but they were minus almost 4,000 of their fellow soldiers. That many troops were now behind Confederate lines as prisoners of war—a number comparable to an entire division. Another 5,000 were dead or wounded. Among the Federal troops on Cemetery Ridge struggling to gain a few hours of sleep, an unknown number of them were demoralized by the day’s defeat. “What added to our uneasiness,” an Iron Brigade veteran would candidly recall, “was the fact that the rebs might clean out the Army of the Potomac and take Washington, then ‘Old Abe’ and the country were gone for certain.” The first day’s fighting at Gettysburg had not concluded as either army commander—neither Meade nor Lee—had hoped. But on the night of July 1, both yearned for a decisive victory the next day.10
CHAPTER FIVE
“He Is There and I Am Going to Attack Him”
At daylight on Thursday, July 2, General George Meade stood atop Cemetery Hill on the edge of Gettysburg. Nearby, at the entrance to the town graveyard, a cemetery sign boasted an old and, now, an ironic warning: “All persons found using fire-arms in these grounds will be prosecuted with the utmost rigor of the law.” Regardless, Meade was at Gettysburg, and he was ready to fight. He had been up all night. Accompanied by his staff, he had ridden up from his Taneytown headquarters during the night, and had reached Gettysburg shortly before midnight. He had been unsure where the expected battle would actually occur, so had remained at Taneytown while dispatching troops to Gettysburg. When Meade realized that Gettysburg was actually the site of the confrontation, he had dispatched General Hancock to take charge, and then had set out on horseback for the battle. At Gettysburg, even in the dark of night, he could see the distant Confederate campfires flickering to the west on Seminary Ridge. He was pleased with how Hancock had rallied the defeated troops, and he approved of the defensive line that Hancock and Howard had anchored at Cemetery Hill, atop Culp’s Hill, and along Cemetery Ridge.
General Meade reached Gettysburg shortly before midnight on July 1. He spent the rest of the night examining his army’s positions and developing a plan of battle.
National Archives
By now, most of the Army of the Potomac had arrived at or had almost reached Gettysburg—except for the Federal Sixth Corps, which was still on the march but was not far away. Meade established his headquarters in a two-room whitewashed farmhouse just behind Cemetery Ridge on Taneytown Road, just south of town. There, he conferred with his commanders and engineers. He was thoroughly businesslike, certain that the life-and-death struggle between the two armies would happen here at Gettysburg, and soon. He considered taking the offensive, but decided against it: he saw the Federal line that Hancock had organized as too strong to abandon—better to fortify it and wait for Lee to attack him, Meade concluded. If necessary, he thought, he could always assume the offensive—especially if Lee attempted to
withdraw and move against Washington. The natural lay of the land now occupied by his troops was ideal for defense, and Meade gave orders to strengthen and bolster the defensive line set up by Hancock.1
“I Feel Fully the Responsibility Resting Upon Me”
General Meade Adopts a Defensive Strategy
General Meade surveyed his lines again at midday on July 2, and reassured himself that his army now had “a strong position for defensive,” as he put it. Federal forces were deployed on the south side of Gettysburg in a line shaped like a giant, inverted fishhook. The point of the hook was at Culp’s Hill, a 140-foot-high, boulder-strewn, heavily wooded hill that lay just southwest of town. The hook curved around the adjacent Cemetery Hill to the west of Culp’s Hill, and the shank extended southward from Cemetery Hill in the north along Cemetery Ridge for more than a mile to the eye of the fishhook—the base of two large, rocky, and heavily forested hills known to locals as Little Round Top and Big Round Top.
Almost the entire Federal line lay on high ground, and Meade’s infantry fortified the line by piling up rocks into stone walls, reinforced in many places with wooden fence rails filched from farmers’ fields. Federal forces rolled their field artillery into position at excellent locations—high ground with clear fields of fire overlooking the enemy’s likely assault routes. Meanwhile, in the distant tree line to the west—almost a mile away across the Emmitsburg Road—Southern forces were deployed in a long line of battle, extending southward from Gettysburg along Seminary Ridge. By midday, almost all of the Army of the Potomac had reached Gettysburg—only the massive Sixth Corps lagged behind, and it too was nearing Gettysburg. Meade had established an artillery reserve behind Cemetery Ridge, and, farther back, a wagon park to keep the army’s supply wagons close at hand, but with quick access to the Baltimore Pike.
