by Rod Gragg
“A Battery in a Peach Orchard, Which Was Blazing Away”
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At about three o’clock in the afternoon we were joined by General Longstreet, who, after a long consultation with the Commander-in-Chief, was at this moment riding down with his Staff towards the front. We found his corps already forming for the attack in a wood.
Longstreet rode up the line and down again, occasionally dismounting, and going forward to get a better view of the enemy’s position.
The ground just before us was plain and open, but beyond were those hills, since so celebrated, covered with Federal breast-works and rifle-pits, and bristling with cannon. The Federals had also possession of the open ground below in front of their works, and their foremost guns were about a quarter of a mile from the wood we were in.
I especially remarked a battery in a peach orchard, which was blazing away at one of ours not far off.
As we passed Barksdale’s Mississippi Brigade the General came up eagerly to Longstreet; “I wish you would let me go in, General; I would take that battery in five minutes.” “Wait a little,” said Longstreet; “we are all going in presently.”
The men were as eager as their leader, and those in the front line began to pull down the fence behind which they were crouching.
“Don’t do that, or you will draw the enemy’s fire,” said Longstreet, who sees and observes everything.
We passed on, and very soon afterwards the General called for his horse, mounted, dashed to the front of the line, gave the word, and led them on himself. We all followed him.
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“The Men Were as Eager as Their Leader”
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It was a glorious sight. The men who had been lying down sprang to their feet, and went in with a will. There was no lagging behind, no spraining of ankles on the uneven ground, no stopping to help a wounded comrade. Not one fell out of the line unless he was really hurt. On swept the line, breaking out with an occasional yell when they came face to face with the foe, but on the whole silently. The guns in the peach orchard were pounced upon, and half of them taken in a trice, whilst the others limbered up and made off. Hundreds of prisoners were captured, and everything was going so satisfactorily that for a time we hardly doubted that the enemy would be driven from his very strong position on the hills in front.
But at a critical moment General Hood was severely wounded, General Barksdale killed, and their men, at the very moment of apparent victory, when they had overcome almost all the difficulties that lay between them and entire success, hesitated, halted, and at length fell back, losing thereby far more men than they would have done if they had continued their advance. But still we gained decided advantages, taking prisoners and guns, and getting possession of the ground up to the foot of the hill.... The battle ceased at dark. As we rode back from the field, General Longstreet spoke with me about the failure to take the position on the hill, saying, “We have not been so successful as we wished,” and attributed it chiefly to the causes before mentioned—Hood’s wound and Barksdale’s death. Perhaps if the attack had been made a little earlier in the day it might have been more successful....4
“My Officers, Men and Horses Were Shot Down”
Federal Artillery Helps Turns the Tide at Great Sacrifice
When the Confederate attack on the Sickles’s Salient was finally turned back, it was due in no small part to the Federal artillery. Lieutenant Colonel Freeman McGilvery of the 1st Volunteer Artillery Brigade had cobbled together almost two dozen Federal artillery pieces, and posted them so that they provided concentrated fire from locations near the Peach Orchard. The 1st Volunteer Artillery Brigade—part of the Army of the Potomac’s Artillery Reserve—was comprised of artillery crews from Massachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania. For almost two hours, McGilvery’s artillery brigade had traded fire with Confederate artillery and had held its own. As Sickles’s line began to break near the Peach Orchard and his Third Corps infantry began to flee to the rear, some of McGilvery’s batteries were overwhelmed by the advancing Southerners even as the gun crews frantically tried to withdraw their guns. Instead of taking time to limber up, Captain John Bigelow of the 9th Massachusetts Light Artillery ordered his gun crews to move out immediately, pulling his guns back by ropes—retiring “by prolonge”—even while the guns were still firing.
Northeast of the Peach Orchard, on a farm operated by Abraham and Catherine Trostle, Colonel McGilvery had Bigelow carry out what would be a last stand for many of his artillerymen—holding off the Confederate assault with blasts of canister until the Federal artillery redeployed and infantry reinforcements arrived. Hundreds of Southerners from McLaws’s division were felled by McGilvery’s guns before the artillerymen retreated. Scores of Bigelow’s men were killed or wounded as well. The 21st Mississippi captured four of his guns, and the crossfire killed more than eighty artillery horses. Despite Bigelow’s losses, his courageous stand at the Trostle farm stalled the assault by Barksdale’s Mississippians until it could be turned back by artillery and infantry reinforcements. Here and elsewhere at Gettysburg, the Federal artillery made a critical difference, but often at a high price. While directing a section of Bigelow’s artillery from horseback, for example, Lieutenant Christopher Erickson was wounded repeatedly—seven times—yet somehow stayed in the saddle, vomiting blood and giving orders, until he finally fell dead.
Bigelow, too, was wounded, shot from his horse as the Mississippi troops swarmed his position. He was rescued under fire by First Bugler Charles W. Reed, who got the bleeding captain onto a horse and braved fire from both sides as he galloped between the lines to safety. Bigelow survived, and more than thirty years later, Reed would be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for the rescue—in part due to this letter from Captain Bigelow.
Artillerymen of the 9th Massachusetts Light Artillery race their guns into place to defend the Federal left flank in this sketch by bugler and artist Charles W. Reed.
Library of Congress
As the Massachusetts artillerymen tried to turn back the charging Confederates of McLaws’s division, Lieutenant Christopher Erickson was repeatedly wounded. As sketched by Bugler Reed, he stayed with his guns, vomiting blood, until finally killed.
Library of Congress
To the Adjutant General, U.S.A.
Washington, D.C. June 19th, 1895
Washington, D.C.
Sir:
I desire to present for your consideration as worthy of the “Medal of honor”, for distinguished bravery and faithfulness to duty at the Battle of Gettysburg, the name of
Charles W. Reed
Bugler, 9th Lg’t Battery, Mass. Vols.
I was Captain commanding said Battery in said Battle.
After the breaking of the 3rd Corps Lines at the Peach Orchard my command was the last to retire: which it did, pressed by Kershaws skirmishers in front and on the left flank and with Barksdales Brigade marching towards it, 300 yds distant on the right flank, without Infantry support, “firing by prolonge.”
When the Angle of the Stone Wall, at the Trostle House was reached, Col McGilvery ordered me to halt and hold the enemy in check, sacrificing my Battery if necessary, until he could get some guns in position in my rear, as the lines were open from the foot of Little Round Top to the left of the Second Corps.
I did so, saving twenty precious minutes for McGilvery to accomplish his purpose before my Officers, men and horses were shot down by the Enemy coming in on my flanks: not one in my front.
Bugler Reed sat by me on his horse, a conspicuous mark, during the trying ordeal. By throwing his horse on his haunches, he saved himself from a volley fired at me by six of Kershaws skirmishers—two of whose bullets struck me; two my horse and two flew wild. He followed me, as my horse turned and when, after going a hundred feet, I fell to the ground, he remained with me, heard the Officers of the 21st Miss. order their men not to fire at me; called my orderly and had him lift me on to his horse; then, taking the reins of both h
orses in his left hand, with his right hand supporting me in the saddle, took me at a walk into the front of the 6th Maine Battery, which Col McGilvery had placed in position, from 300 to 500 yds in my rear, while it was firing heavily and the shells of the Enemy were breaking all around us.
Before I was halfway back to the 6th Maine Battery Lieut Dow, commanding, sent an Officer to me, urging me to hurry, as he must commence firing on the men, 21st Miss. who had my Battery. I told him to fire away, I could not hurry, so Dow opened with shell, while we were in his front and with Canister after we had entered.
Federal Bugler Charles W. Reed, an art student before the war, sketched numerous events he witnessed at Gettysburg. He also earned the Congressional Medal of Honor for his actions in combat.
Library of Congress
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“Bugler Reed Did Not Flinch”
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Bugler Reed did not flinch; but steadily supported me: kept the horses at a walk although between the two fires and guided them, so that we entered the Battery between two of the guns that were firing heavily: took me to the Hospital and afterwards, to my own Camp.
While I had many Officers and men worthy of any honor, which the government can bestow upon them, for their gallantry on that and other Battle fields, I present the name of
Charles W. Reed
address No. 12 West St. Boston, Mass. for the “Medal of honor” for the reasons given and because he was equally gallant and faithful to duty throughout the war.
I remain very respy yrs
John Bigelow.
late Captain Comd’g 9th Light Batty, Mass Vols.5
Shot down in their traces, dead artillery horses litter the grounds of the farm owned by Abraham and Catherine Trostle—where the 9th Massachusetts Light Artillery made its stand.
Library of Congress
“Advance, Colonel, and Take Those Colors”
The 1st Minnesota Infantry Sacrifices Itself for the Union
As the Confederate attack on the Federal left flank worked its way northward en echelon, starting with Hood’s division and followed by McLaws’s division, the time came for troops of General A. P. Hill’s Third Corps to join the assault. Major General Richard Anderson’s division—five brigades of troops from Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Virginia, and Mississippi—was given the task of completing the Confederate attack. This final stage of the attack, also designed to unfold en echelon from right to left, would grow in strength as one brigade after another hit the Federal line. There was no delay this time—the assault began at 6:20 p.m., with plenty of daylight left under the summer sun. Brigadier General Cadmus M. Wilcox’s Alabama brigade led the assault, followed by Colonel David Lang’s brigade of Floridians, with Brigadier General Ambrose R. Wright’s Georgians advancing behind Lang. Waiting to go in next were Brigadier William Mahone’s Virginia brigade and Brigadier General Carnot Posey’s brigade of Mississippians.
It began well. The Third Corps assault targeted the far northern segment of the Federal left flank, which included much of the center of the Federal line on Cemetery Ridge and remained heavily defended by the Army of the Potomac’s Second Corps—which was under the command of Major General Winfield S. Hancock. Already, Hancock had made critical contributions to the Federal defense at Gettysburg, rallying the defeated army on the first day of battle, redeploying the rattled troops into line on Cemetery Ridge, setting up a reserve force that plugged the Confederate breakthrough in Sickles’s Salient—and now the climax of the Confederate attack on the Federal left was coming his way. General Meade had also put him in charge of the Federal Third Corps when Sickles fell wounded.
Hancock had depleted his Second Corps troops bolstering the Federal left under the assaults by Hood and McLaws. Now he saw his worst fears realized: fresh Confederate troops—scores of them—charged toward the weakened left side of the Federal center. Already, the troops on the far right of Sickles’s Salient—a division commanded by Brigadier General Andrew Humphreys—had begun to break and flee toward Cemetery Ridge. Hastily, Hancock summoned Second Corps troops from farther up the Federal line—troops from near Cemetery Hill under the command of Generals John Gibbon and Alexander Hays. But could they arrive in time to shore up Hancock’s line on Cemetery Hill? It looked doubtful. As the last of Sickles’s men scrambled for the rear just ahead of the oncoming Confederate battle lines, Hancock realized he had no more troops.
Thirty-seven-year-old Ambrose “Ranse” Wright entered Confederate service as a private, and in little over a year rose to brigadier general. On the second day at Gettysburg, his brigade of Georgians pierced the Federal line on Cemetery Ridge. Library of Congress
If the Southerners continued onward unchecked and pierced the Federal line near its center, they could roll up the entire line and the battle would be over in short order. Hancock believed if he could hold up the enemy assault for just five minutes, he could get his reinforcements into line—but where would he get those five minutes? Just then he saw the first troops he had summoned coming “double quick” down the slope of Cemetery Ridge—eight companies of the 1st Minnesota Volunteer Infantry. “What regiment is this?” he yelled to the officer in front. “First Minnesota,” came the reply.
The Minnesota officer was Colonel William Colvill Junior, and that same day he had been released from arrest and returned to command of his regiment. On the march to Gettyburg, the 1st Minnesota had been falsely accused of delaying the Federal march, and in a fit of frustration the Second Corps inspector general had arrested Colvill for insubordination. Tall, stocky, chiseled-faced, and disheveled, Colvill was a former lawyer and newspaper editor from Red Wing, Minnesota, known for his fascination with geology and his friendship with local Indians. When Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to invade the South following the firing on Fort Sumter, Colvill was reportedly the first in his county to sign up and helped raise a company of the 1st Minnesota. The regiment had fought well under heavy fire and had suffered serious casualties at First Bull Run and at Antietam.
When confronted by General Hancock, the 1st Minnesota was not at full strength—only eight of ten companies were available, a total of 262 troops. Pointing to the Confederate battle flag at the head of the oncoming mass of troops, Hancock shouted to Colvill: “Advance, Colonel, and take those colors.” With one glance, the colonel realized that one small regiment would not last long against several brigades of charging Confederate veterans—but it might buy five minutes for more Federal reinforcements to arrive. “I would have ordered that regiment in,” Hancock would later state, “if I had known that every man would be killed.” Colvill and his Minnesotans surely understood what fate almost certainly would befall them—and yet they did not hesitate. They allowed a battery of Federal artillery—Battery C of the 4th U.S. Artillery—to unload a deadly cannonade into the enemy ranks. Then they rushed forward, bayonets fixed, and piled into the mass of charging Southerners—smashing into the right side of General Cadmus Wilcox’s Alabama brigade.
The regiment was shredded. Of the 262 Minnesotans who made the assault, all but forty-seven were killed or wounded. Colonel Colvill was among them, wounded twice and crippled for life. But the brave men of the 1st Minnesota did not sacrifice themselves in vain—they bought not five minutes, but ten—time enough for the rest of Hancock’s reinforcements to reach the threatened Federal line. The far right flank of General Wilcox’s brigade was stopped cold—then the entire Southern line came under heavy fire. Savaged by mass volley fire from the Federal infantry reinforcements and simultaneously raked by Federal artillery fire, Wilcox and his Alabamians looked back for help from the Confederate reserves to the rear. So did Colonel Lang and his Florida troops advancing alongside. But there were no reserves. For reasons never fully explained, General Mahone and his brigade of Virginians stayed put and did not advance; while General Posey stopped midway with his Mississippi brigade on his route of attack. Even before reaching the base of Cemetery Ridge, Wilcox and Lang called a retreat.
Ge
neral Ambrose Wright’s Georgians made it farther, pushing up Cemetery Ridge and breaking through the Federal line atop it. General Wright would later state that before him, a flood of blue-uniformed troops broke and ran for the rear, and that it appeared the South had won the day and the battle. But it was a short-lived moment of victory: Federal reinforcements plugged the break in the line, and others surged toward Wright’s brigade from both flanks. He, too, realized his Georgians had no support: Major General William D. Pender’s division of Georgians and North and South Carolinians lay to the rear, but Pender did not accompany them—he had suffered a slight wound the day before, which would become infected and ultimately kill him. His successor, Brigadier General James H. Lane, had watched the troops of Anderson’s division fall to the ground in droves while making the attack, and he, too, decided that his troops would stay put. With no support and on the verge of being overwhelmed by the Federal reinforcements, Wright called retreat and the gray tide that had seemed so unstoppable receded the way it had come. General Robert E. Lee’s grand assault on the Federal left flank had failed.
Second Lieutenant William Lochren, a survivor of the 1st Minnesota’s sacrificial assault, would later pen a detailed account of his regiment’s epic role on Gettysburg’s second day.
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“The First Line Broke in Our Front as We Reached It”
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