Battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 2, 3, 1863

On the tremendous and decisive battle of Gettysburg, now about to engage the two armies, more has probably been written than on any battle since Waterloo. There seems to be a feeling abroad that great secrets explaining why we were beaten are yet to be told and that they are locked up in the breasts of a few men, one of them the present writer, Longstreet's chief of staff. There is absolutely nothing in that expectation; no living man knows more about the battle than has already been written.

Lee has made his report. Longstreet has written a book and said his say. The staff has little or nothing to add. Communications were in the main between Lee and Longstreet, verbally, or occasionally by note direct.

The story has been in part told by Longstreet. We can discover that he did not want to fight on the ground or on the plan adopted by the General-in-Chief. As Longstreet was not to be made willing and Lee refused to change or could not change, the former failed to conceal some anger. There was apparent apathy in his movements. They lacked the fire and point of his usual bearing on the battlefield. His plans may have been better than Lee's, but it was too late to alter them with the troops ready to open fire on each other. Ewell on the left, A. P. Hill and Longstreet on the right, seemed never able to work together, and I can well imagine the great soul of our Commander deeply furrowed with the difficulties about him and what was going on to the disadvantage of the army. This is all I shall permit myself to express on this well-worn but ever interesting subject. One can build many theories, but theories only will they be; besides, my opinion is already given that the loss of the campaign was due to the absence of Stuart's cavalry.

I proceed to jot down idly some "choses vues" of the military events and incidents of the three great days of this remarkable historic battle and the days immediately about it.

The situation on the morning of the 2nd was far from favorable to us. First of all, our position, compared with the enemy's, was not good. It may be said to have been decidedly inferior. We were the outer line, he held the inner. We were the cord to the arc on which his heavy columns were massed. True, there were some positions on the left that were in Ewell's possession and could be well used. Round Top and his high shoulders were on our right, and held by us would be everything. This Lee quickly saw and tried for. They made the key for the position, and with it dangling at our girdle the lock would have yielded and the door opened. But we were too late on our right. An attack, powerful indeed, at 4 p. m. was quite different from the commanding General's expectation of one in the forenoon.

Late on the first, and early on the second, Hill and Ewell were heavily engaged with apparently no satisfactory results.

On the second, quite late, 4 p. m., Longstreet made his long-deferred attack on the enemy's left. It was done in smashing style by McLaws's and Hood's divisions and a few of Hill's troops, Longstreet personally leading the attack with splendid effect.

His fine horsemanship as he rode, hat in hand, and martial figure, were most inspiring.

We gained ground rapidly and almost carried Round Top, but the morning delay was fatal. It had been heavily reinforced while we were pottering around in sullen inactivity. Undoubtedly Lee's intention was to make the attack in the forenoon and support it with strong movements by Hill and Ewell. I think it would have won, notwithstanding the difficulties of the position. The attempt was made to move the troops to the right into position without discovery by the enemy, but it was abortive.

We were seen from the start and signaled constantly. Much valuable time was lost by this trial, which with better knowledge of the ground by General Lee's engineers would not have been attempted.

At nightfall the combat was over and we were dragging off our captured cannon and standards, and caring for our dead and wounded.

The loss in storming the position on the right was heavy. When Hood's division was across the turnpike, under orders to attack, he begged me to look at it, report its extreme difficulty, and implore Longstreet to make the attack another way. This was done, but the answer I took to Hood was that the attack must instantly be made, that General Lee had so directed; and forward and upward the gallant Hood charged, almost gaining the plateau of Round Top, the key of the enemy's left.

The staff had been hard at work day and night, and my exhausted frame found rest that night in the snuggest fence corner in sight. The ground to weary bones felt as good as a feather bed. In addition, I had been suffering from a painful but not serious wound. Riding with Dearing's artillery late in the afternoon, while exchanging some shots, a shrapnel burst directly over us, one of the large projectiles striking me on the right arm near the shoulder. It was not broken or pierced, paralyzed for use for at least ten days, and quite black down to the wrist. Painful, of course, it was, but a small matter where there was so much death and mangling.

On the march through Virginia we had received a delightful acquisition to our headquarters party, in Lieutenant-Colonel Freemantle, of the Coldstream Guards.

He had entered the Confederacy on a visit of observation, well fortified with credentials from his own government, and, traveling through all the Confederate States, had arrived in Richmond just in time to join Lee's army in its invasion of Pennsylvania.

With good letters of introduction he had been sent to us and there could not be a finer fellow. He roughed it with the hardest, and took everything as it came. A quick, observant eye and indefatigable sightseer, apparently nothing escaped him. When the campaign was ended and the Confederates making their way back to Virginia, Freemantle said his farewells and made the best of his way to New York, whence he immediately took steamer for England. There he published an entertaining little book, "Three Months in the Southern States," which was later reproduced by a worn-out, decrepit old press at Mobile, a copy of the issue being now a great rarity. Freemantle had met Southern men of all kinds, and his book has many pen pictures by this fine officer and friend of ours. His regiment a corps d'Élite, soon sent him to the staff, where he distinguished himself, and successively obtained rank as major-general, lieutenant-general, and general, with several military orders of coveted distinction. He is now Sir Arthur Lyon-Freemantle, K. C. M. G.,[2] and of other good-service orders. He commanded the brigade of guards in Egypt, and has just finished (about retiring) his four years' tour of duty as Governor of Malta, one of the greatest of the British military posts. He is delightful to every Confederate he can put his hands upon.

There was another foreign officer with us at this time, and for some months later, Captain Fitzgerald Ross, very Scotch as to name, but Austrian to the core. He came of one of those military Scotch or north of Ireland families that centuries ago settled in many parts of Europe and generally rose to distinction.

On the morning of July 3, it was apparent that a great blow must be delivered to Meade's army. He could not be persuaded to leave his formidable positions and instruments and attack us, and Lee could not retreat without another effort, indecisive as had been those of the 2d. Our General, as has been said, did not mind blood when it had to be shed. It is the soldier's calling. Here was a case in point: His

army and trains could only be saved by a tremendous strike straight at the enemy. The time for maneuvering had passed and he prepared for what was before him. He believed his troops could do what he asked of them; never yet had they failed him.

The attack was to be made as soon as possible, under direction of Lee's "War Horse," that stout warrior James Longstreet, with three brigades of Pickett's division (right), Heth's division of Hill's corps (left), with supports of several brigades of other divisions thrown into position.

An artillery "feu d'enfer" was to precede the attack, directed by E. P. Alexander, who was to give the signal when in his judgment the artillery had made the greatest impression, and then the troops were to move instantly across the wide, lead-swept plain, against the heavy masses of blue on the crest of the heights. All this was done at about 2 o'clock, Longstreet accepting Alexander's signal message with dejection, it seemed. Indeed, the delay in attacking which undoubtedly hurt us was apparently caused by his objections made known to the Commander-in-Chief, but of course all this is set out from that standpoint in Longstreet's own book.

It was soon over. Pickett's men got far up the acclivity and many were soon among the enemy. There was, however, some wavering on our left, which weakened us, and we broke, tearing back pell-mell torn by shot and shell across the width of that bloody plain, a sight never before witnessed—part of the Army of Northern Virginia in full, breathless flight.

But there was no pursuit and the run soon stopped. The soldiers got together, picked up arms, and in a short time were ready for another combat.

If there was repulse and its usual result, a quick flight for cover, there was also something else. A charge that, considering the difficulties of position, comparison of numbers, was so steady to the objective point, and so near success as to make it one of the greatest feats of arms in all the annals of war. Every brigade commander and colonel and lieutenant-colonel of Pickett's division was shot down. The brave Armistead and Garnett at the head of their brigades fell inside the enemy's parapet, and the gallant Kemper, hard hit and left for dead, lay with the men of his leading line. To-day, the detail of the great charge, not as barely hinted at here, but as described in full with ample particulars, mounts one's blood, stirs all hearts with deep tragedy and pride. Well do we know that amid all things to happen, the memory of Pickett's charge will forever live in song and story of that fair land for which the Southern soldier poured out his blood like water.

While Longstreet by no means approved the movement, his soldierly eye watched every feature of it. He neglected nothing that could help it and his anxiety for Pickett and the men was very apparent.

Fearing some flank attacks if we succeeded, he had sent Latrobe to the left to warn the officer against its possibility. I went sharply off in search of Pickett to watch his right and if necessary move some troops in for meeting such an attempt. I did not meet with General Pickett and was soon up with Garnett and Armistead. The former was ill that morning, but was at the head of his men where he was to fall. Just here a shell burst under my horse (my best), a splendid chestnut mare, and down she came, both hind legs off. I luckily got another from a mounted man near by, who rather ruefully gave up his horse and saved my saddle for me. Latrobe also had his horse killed over on the left; other staff officers were also sent forward with the troops and shared in the charge.

General Lee's extreme agitation when he witnessed the repulse and race of our men for cover from that murderous fire has not been exaggerated in the prints. The noble soul was stirred to its inmost depths at the sight of the awful and fruitless sacrifices his men had made at his command. His generous heart could only say, "It is my fault, I take it all—get together, men, we shall yet beat them." I saw no man fail him.

It was on July 3 that a mail from the Department at Richmond brought my commission as lieutenant-colonel, A. A. G. Latrobe's and Fairfax's, as inspectors, came along a few days later.

Notwithstanding our great losses of the second and third, we were permitted to hold the field on the fourth by Meade's inactivity. His army was very strong, had not suffered as had ours, and an enterprising general might seemingly have had us on the run in short order.

But no! he had taken a taste of our mettle the day before and wanted no more of it. A bridge of gold for his enemy was the card for Meade's hands. It is said on good authority that at a council called by Meade he was in favor of retiring, and it was only by strenuous, bold opposition of two or three of his generals that he was prevented and induced to keep his ground.

Thus during all the fourth we were in preparation for the rear movement that must begin that night. Lee's position had become serious, but undismayed were the Confederate Chief and his three corps commanders. He knew he could count on their tried courage and experience.

The night of July 4, 1863, was of awful weather—rain in torrents, howling winds, and roads almost impassable; all trains had been sent back during the day, as well as the reserve artillery. At night artillery in position and pickets were withdrawn and the army moved back by its left—Ewell, Hill, and Longstreet. It marched all night and part of next day, and then Lee with characteristic audacity selected a line of defense, entrenched and fortified it, and offered Meade battle for several days, while his immense trains were safely crossing the Potomac. Meade declined the challenge, and Lee resuming the retreat, crossed on the bridge of boats that had been thrown over the river at Falling Waters by the engineers—and a crazy affair it was, too.

Our corps was all night crossing, and at dawn I was able to approach General Lee on the south bank, "tÊte de pont," with a report to that effect, adding that now everything was clear for General Hill's infantry. The General's anxiety was intense. He expected to be attacked at the passage of the river. There was good reason to fear; why Meade failed to do so is yet to be explained. General Lee, like every one, had been up the whole night, and his staff officers were stretched in sleep on the ground. He desired me to recross the bridge for him, see General Hill in person, and urge him to the utmost haste in getting his men over, stopping only when imperatively necessary.

I immediately pushed back, finding the road deep in mud but clear of any impediment to the men. Broken wagons or a dismounted gun or two had been cleared away and thrown one side. General Lee's message was given and Hill asked me to assure the Commander that he should safely get across, notwithstanding a slight attack that was even then developing itself on his rear brigade—Pettigrew's. Some men were captured, but we suffered most loss in the death of that promising officer.

Returning, I reported to the General that "all was clear. Hill was about three-quarters of a mile from the bridge and marching rapidly to it." "What was his leading division?" I was asked. "General Anderson, sir." "I am sorry, Colonel; my friend Dick is quick enough pursuing, but in retreat I fear he will not be as sharp as I should like." Just then a heavy gun was fired lower down, filling the gorge of the river with most threatening echoes. "There," said the General, "I was expecting it, the beginning of the attack." But he was wrong. The enemy made no further demonstration and Hill came safely across. Our corps had found camp some ten miles south of the river and there I soon threw myself down for rest and food. After a week of the most exhausting physical and mental trial it was indeed time for some repose.