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

by Rod Gragg

  After this exchange of confidence between the general and the color-bearer, Armistead commanded: “Right shoulder, shift arms. Forward, march.” They stepped out at quick time, in perfect order and alignment tramp, tramp, up to the Emmitsburg road; then the advancing Confederates saw the long line of blue, nearly a mile distant, ready and awaiting their coming. The scene was grand and terrible, and well calculated to demoralize the stoutest heart; but not a step faltered, not an elbow lost the touch of its neighbor, not a face blanched, for these men had determined to do their whole duty, and reckoned not the cost. On they go; at about 1,100 yards the Federal batteries opened fire; the advancing Confederates encounter and sweep before them the Federal skirmish line. Still forward they go; hissing, screaming shells break in their front, rear, on their flanks, all about them, but the devoted band, with the blue line in their front as their objective point, press forward, keeping step to the music of the battle. The distance between the opposing forces grows less and less, until suddenly the infantry behind the rock fence poured volley after volley into the advancing ranks. The men fell like stalks of grain before the reaper, but still they closed the gaps and pressed forward through that pitiless storm. The two advance brigades have thus far done the fighting. Armistead has endured the terrible ordeal without firing a gun; his brave followers have not changed their guns from the right shoulder. Great gaps have been torn in their ranks; their field and company officers have fallen; color-bearer after color-bearer has been shot down, but still they never faltered.

  At the critical moment, in response to a request from Kemper, Armistead, bracing himself to the desperate blow, rushed forward to Kemper’s and Garnett’s line, delivered his fire, and with one supreme effort planted his colors on the famous rock fence. Armistead himself, with his hat on the point of his sword, that his men might see it through the smoke of battle, rushed forward, scaled the wall, and cried: “Boys, give them the cold steel!” By this time, the Federal hosts lapped around both flanks and made a counter advance in their front, and the remnant of those three little brigades melted away. Armistead himself had fallen, mortally wounded, under the guns he had captured, while the few who followed him over the fence were either dead or wounded. The charge was over, the sacrifice had been made, but, in the words of a Federal officer: “Banks of heroes they were; they fled not, but amidst that still continuous and terrible fire they slowly, sullenly recrossed the plain—all that was left of them—but few of the five thousand.”

  When the advance commenced General Pickett rode up and down in rear of Kemper and Garnett, and in this position he continued as long as there was opportunity of observing him. When the assault became so fierce that he had to superintend the whole line, I am sure he was in his proper place. A few years ago Pickett’s staff held a meeting in the city of Richmond, Va., and after comparing recollections, they published a statement to the effect that he was with the division throughout the charge; that he made an effort to secure reinforcements when he saw his flanks were being turned, and one of General Garnett’s couriers testified that he carried orders from him almost to the rock fence. From my knowledge of General Pickett I am sure he was where his duty called him throughout the engagement. He was too fine a soldier, and had fought too many battles not to be where he was most needed on that supreme occasion of his military life.

  The ground over which the charge was made was an open terrene, with slight depressions and elevations, but insufficient to be serviceable to the advancing column. At the Emmettsburg road, where the parallel fences impeded the onward march, large numbers were shot down on account of the crowding at the openings where the fences had been thrown down, and on account of the halt in order to climb the fences. After passing these obstacles, the advancing column deliberately rearranged its lines and moved forward. Great gaps were made in their ranks as they moved on, but they were closed up as deliberately and promptly as if on the parade ground; the touch of elbows was always to the centre, the men keeping constantly in view the little emblem which was their beacon light to guide them to glory and to death.

  I will mention a few instances of individual coolness and bravery exhibited in the charge. In the 53d Virginia Regiment, I saw every man of Company F (Captain Henry Edmunds, now a distinguished member of the Virginia bar) thrown flat to the earth by the explosion of a shell from Round Top, but every man who was not killed or desperately wounded sprang to his feet, collected himself and moved forward to close the gap made in the regimental front. A soldier from the same regiment was shot on the shin; he stopped in the midst of that terrific fire, rolled up his trousers leg, examined his wound, and went forward even to the rock fence. He escaped further injury, and was one of the few who returned to his friends, but so bad was his wound that it was nearly a year before he was fit for duty. When Kemper was riding off, after asking Armistead to move up to his support, Armistead called him, and, pointing to his brigade, said: “Did you ever see a more perfect line than that on dress parade?” It was, indeed, a lance head of steel, whose metal had been tempered in the furnace of conflict. As they were about to enter upon their work, Armistead, as was invariably his custom on going into battle, said: “Men, remember your wives, your mothers, your sisters and your sweethearts.” Such an appeal would have made those men assault the ramparts of the infernal regions.

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  “The Few Who Followed Him over the Fence Were Either Dead or Wounded”

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  You asked me to tell how the field looked after the charge, and how the men went back. This I am unable to do, as I was disabled at Armistead’s side a moment after he had fallen, and left on the Federal side of the stone fence. I was picked up by the Union forces after their lines were reformed, and I take this occasion to express my grateful recollection of the attention I received on the field, particularly from Colonel Hess, of the 72d Pennsylvania (I think). If he still lives, I hope yet to have the pleasure of grasping his hand and expressing to him my gratitude for his kindness to me. Only the brave know how to treat a fallen foe.

  I cannot close this letter without reference to the Confederate chief, General R. E. Lee. Somebody blundered at Gettysburg but not Lee. He was too great a master of the art of war to have hurled a handful of men against an army. It has been abundantly shown that the fault lay not with him, but with others, who failed to execute his orders.

  This has been written amid interruptions, and is an imperfect attempt to describe the great charge, but I have made the effort to comply with your request because of your very kind and friendly letter, and because there is no reason why those who once were foes should not now be friends. The quarrel was not personal, but sectional, and although we tried to destroy each other thirty-odd years ago, there is no reason why we should cherish resentment against each other now.

  His hat held high on his sword-tip, General Lewis Armistead leads the men of Pickett’s division over the stone wall at the Center of the Federal line—at what would become known as the “High Water Mark” of the Confederacy.

  Library of Congress

  I should be very glad to meet you in Lynchburg if your business or pleasure should ever bring you to Virginia.

  With great respect,

  Yours most truly,

  RAWLEY W. MARTIN10

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Only the Flag of the Union Greets the Sky”

  As the Confederate survivors of the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge fled back to their lines in retreat, General George Meade sat mounted on horseback on the crest of Cemetery Ridge. A look of disbelief crossed his face. “Have they turned?” he asked a nearby officer. When assured the enemy was really retreating, Meade simply muttered, “Thank God.” Nearby, a Federal band recognized the commander of the now victorious Army of the Potomac, and broke into “Hail to the Chief.” All along Cemetery Ridge, the Federal troops who had repulsed Lee’s legions whooped and shouted and threw their caps in the air. Some, mindful of the similar slaughter they had suffered months earlier at Fredericksb
urg, began chanting “Fredericksburg! Fredericksburg!” toward the backs of the retreating Southerners.

  General Hancock, who had applied a makeshift tourniquet to his wounded thigh during the fighting, now allowed himself to be carried to the rear so his wound could be treated. General Hays, who had two horses shot while under him during the fighting, now mounted another, jumped it over the stone wall, and rode up and down before his line, trailing a fallen Confederate battle flag while his troops cheered triumphantly. Meanwhile, exultant Federal soldiers raced each other over the copse-cluttered front between Cemetery Ridge and the Emmitsburg Road, hurrying to gather fallen Confederate battle flags.1

  After the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge collapsed, General George Meade—heroically depicted in this period art—was saluted with “Hail to the Chief” by a regimental band. “Thank God,” Meade said, when assured his army had won.

  Library of Congress

  “The Plain in Our Front Was Strewn with Dead Men and Dead Horses”

  In the Wake of Battle, the Horrors of War Shock the Survivors

  The sobering reality of war soon muted the Federal celebration atop Cemetery Ridge. Federal troops moved forward among the fallen Confederates, rousting hundreds to their feet as prisoners of war, marching them to the rear to captivity, or, if they were wounded, to Federal field hospitals. As the field slowly emptied of the living, the sight of so many dead—even enemy dead—shocked many Federal soldiers. “There were literally acres of dead lying in front of our line, a New York soldier would report. “I counted 16 dead bodies on one rod square, and the dead in every direction lay upon the field in heaps and scattered as far as the eye could reach.” A New Jersey soldier was horrified to find a young Southerner, partially paralyzed by two wounds to his head, still using his one working arm to stuff grass in the bullet holes.

  Forty years after surveying the harvest of horror left by the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge, Private Henry Meyer of the 148th Pennsylvania Infantry still remembered it in vivid detail.

  One of the Confederate prisoners with both eyes shot out was led into our lines, crying bitterly. A Confederate officer related that the most pitiful spectacle he ever beheld was that presented by some officer in [Pickett’s] division, sitting with his back to the fence along the Emmitsburg road, having his lower jaw shot clean away; sitting there with staring eye watching the men as they passed by to the charge....

  A heavy thunderstorm burst over the field in the evening, adding to the discomforts of the situation. From frequent rains and copious perspiration produced by toilsome marches, the boys’ clothes never got dry from the time they left Thoroughfare Gap, June 25th, until several days after the battle at Gettysburg....

  Federal troops atop Cemetery Ridge watch Lee’s defeated ranks retreat back toward the Confederate line.

  Battles and Leaders of the Civil War

  The plain in our front was strewn with dead soldiers and dead horses. Hats, haversacks, canteens, accoutrements, shells, solid shot, and muskets, wrecked gun carriages, and all the debris of a great battle were scattered in promiscuous confusion over field and in the woods. The ground was torn up in deep furrows by the enemy’s solid shot and shell. I noticed one point where three such furrows had crossed each other, one having been made by a ball coming from the northwest, one from the west, and one from the southwest, showing how the fire was concentrated on that part of our line.

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  “The Debris of a Great Battle Were Scattered in Promiscuous Confusion”

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  I pitied the poor wounded horses dragging themselves about the field, trying to nibble a tuft of grass here and there not trampled into the ground. I noticed the day before with what patience, almost human, the battery horses hitched to the caissons, endured the storm of iron missiles hurled over and amongst them. One after another the dumb brutes dropped to the ground, but none attempted to break away. Corporal S. M. Spangler of our company was put in command of a detail to shoot the wounded horses in that part of the field.

  Every house, barn, shed or building whatsoever, was crowded with wounded and dying soldiers. In one of these crowded sheds near General Doubleday’s headquarters, I noticed a young boy, who was badly wounded, trying, in his delirium, to creep through an opening in the side of the shed, moaning and crying in piteous tones. The first few days, the wounded suffered greatly for want of food, water, nursing and proper medical attendance, for sufficient supplies and assistance could not be brought to the field in a moment. Several hundred steps to the rear of our Regiment was a small dwelling house with some outbuildings. These were crowded with wounded soldiers.

  Federal troops march Confederate prisoners of war away from Gettysburg on the first leg to Northern prison camps. Each side captured more than 5,000 prisoners.

  Library of Congress

  A small orchard of about an acre in extent, near by, was literally covered with the dead; they presented a ghastly sight, some being covered with rubber blankets, or parts of shelter tents, lying there in the rain and mud. Close by was a small spring in a swampy place where the boys used to get their water while occupying their position in that part of the field. During the rain, surface water carried blood from the field into the spring, but water being scarce in the locality, the boys were obliged to fill their canteens with the tainted liquid....2

  “All This Has Been My Fault”

  Lee Meets the Survivors of the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge

  As the troops from Pickett’s, Pettigrew’s, and Trimble’s brigades streamed back to the Confederate main line, General Lee rode among them on horseback, trying to give them encouragement. He also took full responsibility for the defeat. “All this has been my fault,” he repeatedly told his soldiers. “The fault is mine, but it will be all right in the end.” Many of the troops wanted to attack again, or hoped that the Federals would follow-up the repulse with an assault on the Confederate line. “Not withstanding the failure of its efforts,” a Southern officer would recall, “the army was still unconquered in spirit, and had Meade followed us back to Seminary Ridge, he would have found our troops ready to mete out to him what he had given to us.” When soldiers shouted for him to let them make a second assault, Lee would not hear of it—although he did immediately deploy his troops to receive a Federal assault if Meade made one. Meade did not—his losses had been too costly.

  General Pickett approached Lee on foot, almost dazed by his losses, and when Lee directed him to put his division back in line, Pickett responded, “General Lee, I have no division now....” Lee also directed Pettigrew to prepare his division to repel a possible Federal assault, until he noticed Pettigrew’s bloody arm. “General,” he said, “I am sorry to see you wounded,” and ordered Pettigrew to the rear for treatment. General Wilcox came up to Lee, near tears, and tried to explain his losses. “Never mind, General Wilcox,” Lee told him, “it is all my fault—it is I who have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it the best way you can.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Fremantle, the British military observer who had been traveling throughout the Confederacy prior to the battle, spoke to Lee as he rode through the ranks of his bloodied troops. After Gettysburg, Fremantle made his way through Federal lines and returned to Great Britain, where he published an account of his experiences, including the moments following the defeat of the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge.

  When I got close up to General Longstreet, I saw one of his regiments advancing through the woods in good order; so, thinking I was just in time to see the attack, I remarked to the General that “I wouldn’t have missed this for any thing.” Longstreet was seated at the top of a snake fence at the edge of the wood, and looking perfectly calm and unperturbed. He replied, laughing, “The devil you wouldn’t! I would like to have missed it very much; we’ve attacked and been repulsed: look there!”

  For the first time I then had a view of the open space between the two positions, and saw it covered with Confederates slowly and sulkily returning towards us in small
broken parties, under a heavy fire of artillery. But the fire where we were was not so had as further to the rear; for although the air seemed alive with shell, yet the greater number burst behind us.

  The General told me that Pickett’s division had succeeded in carrying the enemy’s position and capturing his guns, but after remaining there twenty minutes, it had been forced to retire, on the retreat of Heth and Pettigrew on its left.

  No person could have been more calm or self-possessed than General Longstreet, under these trying circumstances, aggravated as they now were by the movements of the enemy, who began to show a strong disposition to advance. I could now thoroughly appreciate the term bulldog, which I had heard applied to him by the soldiers. Difficulties seem to make no other impression upon him than to make him a little more savage.

  Major Walton was the only officer with him when I came up—all the rest had been put into the charge. In a few minutes Major Latrobe arrived on foot, carrying his saddle, having just had his horse killed. Colonel Sorrell was also in the same predicament, and Captain Goree’s horse was wounded in the mouth.

  The General was making the best arrangements in his power to resist the threatened advance, by advancing some artillery, rallying the stragglers, &c. I remember seeing a General (Pettigrew, I think it was) come up to him, and report that “he was unable to bring his men up again.” Longstreet turned upon him and replied, with some sarcasm: “Very well; never mind, then, General; just let them remain where they are: the enemy’s going to advance, and will spare you the trouble.”