The Illustrated Gettysburg Reader: An Eyewitness History of the Civil War's Greatest Battle

by Rod Gragg

  “He Resolved to Aid in Driving Back the Invading Foe”

  An Aged Warrior Takes Up Arms for the Union

  The battle made one Gettysburg resident into a national hero in the North. John Burns was a sixty-nine-year-old cobbler, the son of Scots immigrants, and a longtime resident of Gettysburg, where he had once served as a local constable. Said to have been a veteran of the War of 1812, he reportedly tried to join the Federal army when the war began, and may have served the army for awhile as a civilian teamster. He lived in a rambling, white-washed frame house at the corner of West and Chambersburg Streets in Gettysburg, and on July 1 had watched a flood of Federal troops surge by his home to take up positions on the west side of town.

  A native of Great Britain, Harper’s Weekly combat artist Alfred Waud had been traveling with the Army of the Potomac since the battle of First Bull Run. At Gettysburg, he witnessed much of what he drew.

  Library of Congress

  Determined to do his part, Burns pulled on his old uniform coat, shouldered a musket, and hiked out to McPherson’s Ridge as the first day’s fighting began. An officer allowed him to join the ranks of the 150th Pennsylvania Infantry posted on the ridge near the Chambersburg Road, and later he reportedly fought alongside the 7th Wisconsin of the Iron Brigade. Fearing the aging volunteer might be captured and executed as a bushwhacker, an Iron Brigade officer reportedly had Burns sworn into the Federal army as a volunteer. During the fighting, Burns was wounded several times, and was left behind in the Federal retreat. Confederate troops did capture him, but instead of executing the old man, they treated his wounds and sent him home.

  After the battle, Northern newspapers printed news of his exploits, and Burns became a celebrated hero. In November of 1863, when President Lincoln came to Gettysburg to help dedicate a Federal soldier’s cemetery and make his famous Gettysburg Address, he asked to meet John Burns, and the two attended church together. The U.S. Congress granted Burns a special pension, thousands of dollars in unsolicited donations were mailed to him, and he eventually sold his house to promoters as a tourist attraction. He then moved to a farm far to the east of Gettysburg, where he lived until his death in 1872. Over time, the story of the old man who took up his musket to fight for the Union at Gettysburg became a mixture of history and mythology.

  An account of Burns’s battlefield adventure was recorded by J. B. Stillson, a Presbyterian layman who came to Gettysburg with the United States Christian Commission to tend to the wounded after the battle. The U.S. Christian Commission, established by the Youth Men’s Christian Association in the North early in the war, distributed Bibles, tracts, and songbooks to the army and ministered to soldiers. While in Gettysburg, Stillson apparently befriended Burns and interviewed him. A year later, in his official report to the Commission, Stillson included a dramatic account of what he described as Burns’s own story.

  With a flintlock musket propped beside him and his crutches resting behind him, old soldier John Burns mends his wounds at his Gettysburg home.

  Library of Congress

  Baltimore, August 3d, 1864.

  G. S. Griffith, Esq., President Maryland Branch U. S. C. C:

  DEAR SIR:—In accordance with your request, permit me to say, the work of the Christian Commission in the hospitals, camps, and forts, and at the docks and rail cars, during the past year, in this city and vicinity, has been steadily pursued by the committees assigned to the several localities, with gratifying results....

  The sick, the wounded, and the dying have uniformly been the special objects of attention, and no efforts have been spared to carry out, in the practical detail, the grand central idea of this most blessed agency, in providing for the souls and bodies of men. . . .

  Perhaps not a day has passed since the commission began its early labors in this field, but some real-life incident has transpired, to cheer and thrill the heart, and fortify the faith of those engaged in these labors of love.

  John C. Burns, a man of temporal habits and of upright and unpretending life, was born in Burlington county, State of New Jersey, September 5th, 1783, and at the time of the battle [of Gettysburg], was near seventy years old.

  Much has been written concerning him since the fight, but very little that has not involved both fiction and error.

  As a member of the Christian Commission it was my privilege to know personally of his wounds and deeds. It may not therefore be out of place to record, briefly, some of the facts and incidents that have given rise to a widespread interest in his history....

  It will now be my aim to give the old soldier’s statements of facts and events substantially as he narrated them to me.

  “My heart,” said he, “was made sorrowful, when I saw so many of the citizens about the streets on the morning of the battle, who evinced less concern for their country than for their personal effects. I fought for my country in 1812, and then learned to love it, and I have loved and honored it, I believe, with an honest affection to this day. I was sorry for this apathy, and I was sorry also that I had no sons to help fight the Rebels, but I was glad too when I remembered that I was still strong and could help fight them myself.

  Without delay I borrowed a rifle and provided myself with powder and ball, as I was accustomed to do when in younger days I hunted the wolf and the deer along these same mountains and valleys so recently swarming with Rebels against our good government—the best government in the world.

  I dressed myself for the fight in the same blue coat, and vest, and corderoys I wore in the war of 1812, and which I had sacredly kept as memorials of other days when I had fought and bled in defense of liberty and right.

  Thus equipped with as strong a heart and as steady a nerve as I ever possessed, I turned my willing feet to where our troops were forming into line of battle....

  Never did I draw a bead with steadier aim on the deer of the mountains than on those Rebel leaders. Vacant saddles attested the work of the unerring missiles. I had not fought long, however, before a ball from the enemy struck my left side. I did not fall, though at first inclined to, for the shock was severe. It is no time thought I, ‘to look at wounds,’ I must fight while life and strength remain.

  I resumed my work and continued to fire successfully for sometime, when I was again hit by a minnie ball near the groin, the shock was terrible, but I did not fall.

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  “Without Delay I Borrowed a Rifle”

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  I now felt the blood running and I expected my end was near....

  Another ball penetrated my left arm a few inches below the elbow. Then my work was done, I could no longer hold my gun. I felt that my time was short. The blood was flowing freely from my wounds.

  Darkness came stealing over my senses, and fainting, I fell, to remember no more until the first day’s battle was closed and I a prisoner within the enemy’s lines. When consciousness returned I began to consider my condition as a prisoner, and not being a soldier proper, it occurred to me I would not be entitled to the treatment due prisoners of war, and therefore might be killed without ceremony. With my well hand I succeeded with my pocket knife in burying in the ground my ammunition, and then crept away as far as I could from my gun. . . .”

  In view of these wonderful escapes, it may be well to revert briefly to the incidents of this narration, simply for the purpose of tracing in it the hand of the Lord in thus saving from serious injury the old soldier’s life and limbs five separate times.

  The first ball that struck his side was turned from his body without injury to his person by the intervention of a pair of old fashioned spectacles in his vest pocket. The second struck a truss, worn for an abdominal injury, and glanced off, cutting away the flesh from his thigh about two inches below the top of the hip bone. The third ball passed through his leg between the large and small bones without injuring either bones or arteries. The fourth ball passed through the fleshy part of the left arm below the elbow, also without breaking or rupturing arteries....

 
Truly the ways of Providence are mysterious and past finding out.

  Yours, &c.,

  J.B. STILLSON.10

  * * *

  “I Expected My End Was Near”

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  “If Lee Attacks Tomorrow, It Will Be on Your Front”

  Lee and Meade Make Plans for the Third Day of Battle

  A this headquarters in Gettysburg, General Robert E. Lee appeared confident on the night of July 2. He appeared so despite the disappointments of the day: he had repeatedly allowed discretion in the execution of his orders—as he had so often allowed Jackson with great success—but on Gettysburg’s second day he had achieved little success. Engaged in battle in unfamiliar territory, his maneuverability had been limited by inadequate reconnaissance and poor position. His commanders had been unable to effectively execute his complex battle plan. Attacks had been made late—far later than he had planned—at times his orders had been ignored or changed, and his chief subordinate, General Longstreet, had questioned his battle plans almost to the point of insubordination. Although untold thousands had been killed, wounded, or captured thus far, neither army was defeated or victorious.

  And he was ill. He had been diagnosed earlier with heart problems—what was called “inflammation of the heart-sac”—and he occasionally felt significant pain in his chest, arms, and back. At the time, he also suffered from the common soldier’s frequent malady—diarrhea. An officer at Lee’s headquarters on the afternoon of July 2 was surprised to see the General walking “as if he were weak or in pain.” Nevertheless, the day did bring some good news: Major General George Pickett’s division of Virginia troops—a branch of Longstreet’s corps—had reached Gettysburg, fresh and ready for battle. Furthermore, General Stuart and his cavalry division had finally arrived. Lee would say nothing of his meeting with the tardy Stuart that day, although one of Stuart’s aides would state that it seemed “painful beyond description.” Lee reportedly greeted Stuart with a mild reprimand: “Well, General Stuart, you are here at last.”

  The Army of Northern Virginia remained strong despite severe losses, and while the enemy held a fortified line on what Lee acknowledged as “a high and commanding ridge,” Lee’s troops had prevailed against superior odds many times in the past. Despite the disappointments of the day and the effects of his poor health, Lee moved through the crowd of Southern officers congregating around his headquarters that night, shaking hands. “It is all well, General,” he told A. P. Hill, “everything is well.” The Army of Northern Virginia had won a clear victory on the first day of battle, breaking the enemy’s line and sending thousands of blue-uniformed troops hurrying away from the battlefield in retreat. And on the second day, with all its problems and disappointments, his troops had repeatedly come within a fraction of decisive victory. “Those partial successes,” he would later state, “determined me to continue the assault the next day.” On the next day—Friday, July 3, 1863—he would attack the Federal line once again and intended to strike the Federal flanks. If the Federal line could be turned on either flank, the battle could be decided for the South. If flank attacks failed again, he could then assault the center of the Federal line, which presumably would be stretched thin meeting the Confederate attacks on the flanks.

  Across the battlefield, General George Meade convened a late-night war council with his commanders. Crowded into the cramped quarters of the whitewashed farmhouse he had commandeered as a headquarters, Meade addressed a critical question to his subordinates: Should the Army of the Potomac withdraw or stay and fight? Gettysburg “was no place to fight a battle in,” voiced Major General John Newton, who had taken over the army’s First Corps following the death of General Reynolds. Newton remained the sole dissenter. Meade further polled the group, then stated the final decision: the army would stay and fight. As the meeting ended, Meade shared a warning with Brigadier General John Gibbon, whose troops were posted to the center of the Federal line on Cemetery Ridge. Lee had already attacked both Federal flanks, Meade explained, therefore the main Confederate attack tomorrow would likely target the army’s center, he believed. “If Lee attacks tomorrow,” Meade predicted, “it will be on your front.”

  At Gettysburg, General Lee reportedly displayed symptoms of poor health, at one point walking “as if weak or in pain.” Even so, he remained confident of his army, and on July 3 he planned to attack the center of the Federal line.

  Library of Congress

  Soon after all firing had ceased a staff-officer from army headquarters met General Hancock and myself and summoned us both to General Meade’s headquarters, where a council was to be held. We at once proceeded there, and soon after our arrival all the corps commanders were assembled in the little front room of the Liester House—Newton, who had been assigned to the command of the First Corps over Doubleday, his senior; Hancock, Second; Birney, Third; Sykes, Fifth; Sedgwick, who had arrived during the day with the Sixth, after a long march from Manchester; Howard, Eleventh; and Slocum, Twelfth, besides General Meade, General Butterfield, chief of staff; Warren, chief of engineers; A. S. Williams, Twelfth Corps, and myself, Second. It will be seen that two corps were doubly represented, the Second by Hancock and myself, and the Twelfth by Slocum and Williams.

  These twelve were all assembled in a little room not more than ten or twelve feet square, with a bed in one corner, a small table on one side, and a chair or two. Of course all could not sit down; some did, some lounged on the bed, and some stood up, while Warren, tired out and suffering from a wound in the neck, where a piece of shell had struck him, lay down in the corner of the room and went sound asleep, and I don’t think heard any of the proceedings.

  In the cramped cottage where he set up his headquarters, General Meade convened a council of his senior commanders on the night of July 2. His key question: Should the Federal army stay and fight another day?

  Library of Congress

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  “Everyone Was in Favor of Remaining Where We Were and Giving Battle There”

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  The discussion was at first very informal and in the shape of conversation, during which each one made comments on the fight and told what he knew of the condition of affairs. In the course of this discussion Newton expressed the opinion that “this was no place to fight a battle in.” General Newton was an officer of engineers (since chief-engineer of the army), and was rated by me, and I suppose most others, very highly as a soldier. The assertion, therefore, coming from such a source, rather startled me, and I eagerly asked what his objections to the position were. The objections he stated, as I recollect them, related to some minor details of the line, of which I knew nothing except so far as my own front was concerned, and with those I was satisfied; but the prevailing impression seemed to be that the place for the battle had been in a measure selected for us.

  Here we are; now what is the best thing to do? It soon became evident that everybody was in favor of remaining where we were and giving battle there. General Meade himself said very little, except now and then to make some comment, but I cannot recall that he expressed any decided opinion upon any point, preferring apparently to listen to the conversation. After the discussion had lasted some time, Butterfield suggested that it would, perhaps, be well to formulate the question to be asked, and, General Meade assenting, he took a piece of paper, on which he had been making some memoranda, and wrote down a question; when he had done he read if off and formally proposed it to the council.

  I had never been a member of a council of war before (nor have I been since) and did not feel very confident I was properly a member of this one; but I had engaged in the discussion, and found myself (Warren being asleep) the junior member in it. By the custom of war the junior member votes first, as on court-martial; and when Butterfield read off his question, the substance of which was, “Should the army remain in its present position or take up some other?” he addressed himself first to me for an answer. To say “Stay and fight” was to ignore the objections made by General
Newton, and I therefore answered somewhat in this way: “Remain here, and make such correction in our position as may be deemed necessary, but take no step which even looks like retreat.”

  After discussing options with his commanders until midnight, Meade stated the consensus: the Army of the Potomac would stay and fight. And to one officer Meade made a prediction: Lee would next attack the Federal center.

  National Archives

  The question was put to each member and his answer taken down, and when it came to Newton, who was the first in rank, he voted in pretty much the same way as I did, and we had some playful sparring as to whether he agreed with me or I with him; the rest voted to remain.

  The next question written by Butterfield was, “Should the army attack or wait the attack of the enemy?” I voted not to attack, and all the others voted substantially the same way; and on the third question, “How long shall we wait?” I voted, “Until Lee moved.” The answers to this last question showed the only material variation in the opinion of the members.

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  “‘If He Concludes to Try It Again It Will Be on Our Center’”

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  When the voting was over General Meade said quietly, but decidedly, “Such then in the decision”; and certainly he said nothing which produced a doubt in my mind as to his being perfectly in accord with the members of the council.... Several times during the sitting of the council reports were brought to General Meade, and now and then we could hear heavy firing going on over on the right of our line. I took occasion before leaving to say to General Meade that his staff officer had regularly summoned me as a corps commander to the council, although I had some doubts about being present. He answered, pleasantly, “That is all right. I wanted you here.” Before I left the house Meade made a remark to me which surprised me a good deal, especially when I look back upon the occurrence of the next day. By a reference to the votes in council it will be seen that the majority of the members were in favor of acting on the defensive and awaiting the action of Lee. In referring to the matter, just as the council broke up, Meade said to me, “If Lee attacks tomorrow, it will be in your front.” I asked him why he thought so, and he replied, “Because he has made attacks on both our flanks and failed, and if he concludes to try it again it will be on our center.” I expressed the hope that he would, and told General Meade, with confidence, that if he did we would defeat him.11