Part 6

“The most profound calm reigned now, where a few hours before so furious a tempest had raged. The moon, with her smiling face, mounted up in the starry heavens as at Chancellorsville. Her pale light shone equally upon the living and the dead, the little flowers blooming in the grass as well as upon the torn bodies lying in the pools of clotted blood. Dead bodies were everywhere. On no field of battle have I ever seen them in such numbers. The greater part of my line was strewn with them, and, when the arms were stacked and the men asleep, one was unable to say, in that mingling of living and dead, which would awake the next morning and which would not.

“Beyond the line of advanced sentinels, the wounded still lay where they had fallen, calling for assistance or asking for water. Their cries died away without any reply in the silence of the night, for the enemy was close by, and it was a dangerous undertaking to risk advancing into the space which separated us. In making an attempt, an officer of my staff drew three shots, which whistled unpleasantly near his ears. All labors of charity were necessarily put off till the next morning. It is sad to think that this was a sentence of death to numbers of the unfortunate. Mournful thoughts did not hinder the tired soldiers from sleeping. Everything was soon forgotten in a dreamless slumber.

“At dawn of day, when I awakened, the first object which struck my eyes was a young sergeant stretched out on his back, his head resting on a flat stone, serving for a pillow. His position was natural, even graceful. One knee slightly raised, his hands crossed on his breast, a smile on his lips, caused by a dream, perhaps, of her who awaited his return in the distant Green Mountains. He was dead. Wounded, he had sought out this spot in which to die. His haversack was near him. He had taken out of it a little book on which his last looks had been cast, for the book was still open in his stiffened fingers. It was the New Testament; on the first leaf a light hand had traced in pencil, some letters, rubbed out, which one might think were a name. I have kept the volume, and on the white space, to the unknown name I have added, ‘Died at Gettysburg, July 3, 1863.’

“During the night, the enemy had drawn back his pickets to the other side of the Emmitsburg Road, and left us free access to assist the wounded. The appearance of litters and ambulance wagons strengthened them, by giving them hope. They related their engagements of the evening before, and their sufferings during the night. One of them, pointing out the dead lying around him, said: ‘This one lived only till sundown; that one lasted until about midnight. There is one who was still groaning but an hour ago.’

“Continuing my walk, I came near a large isolated rock. It might have been eight or ten feet high, and fifteen or twenty feet broad. Rounding on the side towards the enemy, but flat as a wall on the opposite side, it had served as an advanced post for one of our companies, probably belonging to Stannard’s brigade. What had happened there? Had they been surprised by the rapid advance of the enemy? Had they tried to shelter themselves behind that stone during the fight? Had the firing of canister by our guns rendered retreat impossible? Had they refused to surrender? No one, to my knowledge, escaped to tell. Whatever was the cause, there were twenty lying there cut down by lead and steel, and amongst the pile I recognized the uniform of an officer and the chevrons of a sergeant.

“When I returned to the center of my line, the ambulances were at work, and squads detailed from each regiment picked up the arms which were scattered by thousands over the field. A little later my command was relieved, and again took its position of the evening before.

“Some reconnaissances sent out to look for the enemy had not far to go to find him. His pickets were still on the edge of the woods in front of the Seminary Heights. We afterwards learned that he expected, during the whole day, that we would attack, hoping to get revenge. But General Meade, content with his victory, would not take the risk of compromising it by leaving his position before Lee had abandoned his, in which he acted wisely, whatever may have been said to the contrary.

“The afternoon was thus spent in first picking up our wounded and afterwards those of the enemy. The ambulance wagons were hardly enough for the work. The litter-bearers placed the wounded along our lines, where they had to await their turn to be taken to the rear. We did what we could to make the delay as short as possible, for many of them were brave Southern boys, some having enlisted because they honestly believed it was their duty, others torn by force from their families, to be embodied in the Rebel army by the inexorable conscription. After the defeat, they were resigned, without boasting, and expressed but one wish: that the war would terminate as soon as possible, since the triumph of the North appeared to be but a question of time.

“I recall to mind a young man from Florida who told me his history. His name was Perkins, and he was scarcely twenty years old. The only son of aged parents, he had in vain endeavored to escape service. Tracked everywhere by the agents of the Richmond government, he had been forced to take up the musket, and had done his duty so well that he had been rapidly promoted to sergeant. In the last charge of the day before, he had had his left heel carried away by a piece of shell, and his right hand shattered by a canister shot. One amputation, at least, probably two, was what he had to expect; and yet he did not complain. But when he spoke of his aged parents awaiting his return, and of the sad condition in which he would re-enter the paternal home, his smile was more heart-breaking than any complaint. In order that his wounds might be sooner dressed, one of my aids, Lieutenant Houghton, let him have his horse, at the risk of marching on foot if we moved before he was returned.

“The next night we passed in the rain. It always rains on the day after a great battle. On the morning following we discovered the enemy to be in full retreat. Seeing that the attack he expected did not come off, and fearing for the safety of his communications with the Potomac, General Lee could do nothing else but retire through the mountains, which he did during the night of the 4th and 5th of July. Then only began that disorder in his columns, and that confusion, the picture of which has been somewhat exaggerated; an almost inevitable consequence, besides, to that kind of a movement. Our cavalry began to harass him on the flanks, while the 6th Corps, having remained intact, pressed on his rear-guard.

“The difficulties that General Sedgwick met in the Fairfield pass, where the enemy had intrenched, probably made General Meade fear that a direct pursuit would entail too great loss of time in the mountains. So, instead of following Lee in the valley of the Cumberland, he decided to march on a parallel line, to the east of the South Mountains.”

An Honest Man

General E. P. Alexander, Chief of Artillery of Longstreet’s Corps, tells of a trade that occurred during the retreat from Gettysburg:

“Near Hagerstown I had an experience with an old Dunkard which gave me a high and lasting respect for the people of that faith. My scouts had had a horse transaction with this old gentleman, and he came to see me about it. He made no complaint, but said it was his only horse, and as the scouts had told him we had some hoof-sore horses we should have to leave behind, he came to ask if I would trade him one of those for his horse, as without one his crop would be lost.

“I recognized the old man at once as a born gentleman in his delicate characterization of the transaction as a trade. I was anxious to make the trade as square as circumstances would permit. So I assented to his taking a foot-sore horse, and offered him besides payment in Confederate money. This he respectfully declined. Considering how the recent battle had gone, I waived argument on the point of its value but tried another suggestion. I told him that we were in Maryland as the guests of the United States; that after our departure the Government would pay all bills left behind; and that I would give him an order on the United States for the value of his horse and have it approved by General Longstreet. To my surprise he declined this also. I supposed then that he was simply ignorant of the bonanza in a claim against the Government, and I explained that; and, telling him that money was no object to us under the circumstances, I offered to include the value of his whole farm. He again said he wanted nothing but the foot-sore horse. Still anxious that the war should not grind this poor old fellow in his poverty, I suggested that he take two or three foot-sore horses which we would have to leave anyhow, when we marched. Then he said, ‘Well, sir, I am a Dunkard, and the rule of our church is an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, and a horse for a horse, and I can’t break the rule.’

“I replied that the Lord, who made all horses, knew that a good horse was worth a dozen old battery scrubs; and after some time prevailed on him to take two, by calling one of them a gift. But that night we were awakened about midnight by approaching hoofs, and turned out expecting to receive some order. It was my old Dunkard leading one of his foot-sores. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘you made it look all right to me today when you were talking; but after I went to bed tonight I got to thinking it all over, and I don’t think I can explain it to the church, and I would rather not try.’ With that he tied old foot-sore to a fence and rode off abruptly. Even at this late day it is a relief to my conscience to tender to his sect this recognition of their integrity and honesty, in lieu of the extra horse which I vainly endeavored to throw into the trade. Their virtues should commend them to all financial institutions in search of incorruptible employees.”

Extracts from the Diary of Colonel Fremantle

Colonel Fremantle, a member of the Cold Stream Guards, was a guest of the Army of Northern Virginia during the Gettysburg campaign. After the battle of Gettysburg, he returned to England and published “Three Months in the Southern States.” The following is a vivid extract, describing a part of the battle from the Confederate lines.

“_July 1st (Wednesday)._ At 4.30 P.M. we came in sight of Gettysburg, and joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one of the ridges which form a peculiar feature of the country round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells. The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently a strong one. His right appeared to rest on a cemetery, on the top of a high ridge to the right of Gettysburg, as we looked at it.

“General Hill now came up and told me he had been very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said he had two divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy four miles into the present position, capturing a great many prisoners, some cannon, and some colors. He said, however, that the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them.

“_July 2nd (Thursday)._ At 2 P.M. General Longstreet advised me, if I wished to have a good view of the battle, to return to my tree of yesterday. I did so and remained there with Lawley and Captain Schreibert during the rest of the afternoon. But until 4.45 P.M. all was profoundly quiet, and we began to doubt whether a fight was coming off today at all. At that time, however, Longstreet suddenly commenced a heavy cannonade on the right. Ewell immediately took it up on the left. The enemy replied with equal fury, and in a few moments the firing along the whole line was as heavy as it is possible to conceive. A dense smoke arose for six miles; there was little wind to drive it away, and the air seemed full of shells—each of which appeared to have a different style of going, and made a different noise from the others. The ordnance on both sides is of a very varied description. Every now and then a caisson would blow up—if a Federal one, a Confederate yell would immediately follow. The Southern troops, when charging, or to express their delight, always yell in a manner peculiar to themselves. The Yankee cheer is much like ours, but the Confederate officers declare that the Rebel yell has a particular merit, and always produces a salutary effect upon their adversaries. A corps is sometimes spoken of as ‘a good yelling regiment.’

“As soon as the firing began, General Lee joined Hill just below our tree, and he remained there nearly all the time, looking through his field-glasses, sometimes talking to Hill and sometimes to Colonel Long of his staff. But generally he sat quite alone on the stump of a tree. What I remarked especially was, that during the whole time the firing continued, he sent only one message, and received only one report. It evidently is his system to arrange the plan thoroughly with the three commanders, and then leave to them the duty of modifying and carrying it out to the best of their abilities.

“When the cannonade was at its height, a Confederate band of music, between the cemetery and ourselves, began to play polkas and waltzes, which sounded very curious, accompanied by the hissing and bursting of the shells.

“At 5.45 all became comparatively quiet on our left and in the cemetery; but volleys of musketry on the right told us that Longstreet’s infantry were advancing, and the onward progress of the smoke showed that he was progressing favorably; but about 6.30 there seemed to be a check, and even a slight retrograde movement.... A little before dark the firing dropped off in every direction, and soon ceased altogether. We then received intelligence that Longstreet had carried everything before him for some time, capturing several batteries and driving the enemy from his positions; but when Hill’s Florida brigade and some other troops gave way, he was forced to abandon a small portion of the ground he had won, together with all the captured guns, except three. His troops, however, bivouacked during the night on ground occupied by the enemy in the morning.

“_July 3rd (Friday)._ At 2.30 P.M., after passing General Lee and his staff, I rode on through the woods in the direction in which I had left Longstreet. I soon began to meet many wounded men returning from the front; many of them asked in piteous tones the way to a doctor or an ambulance. The further I got, the greater became the number of the wounded. At last I came to a perfect stream of them flocking through the woods in numbers as great as the crowd in Oxford Street in the middle of the day. Some were walking alone on crutches composed of two rifles, others were supported by men less badly wounded than themselves, and others carried on stretchers by the ambulance corps, but in no case did I see a sound man helping the wounded to the rear unless he carried the red badge of the ambulance corps. They were still under heavy fire, the shells bringing down great limbs of trees, and carrying further destruction amongst this melancholy procession. I saw all this in much less time than it takes to write it, and although astonished to meet such vast numbers of wounded, I had not seen enough to give me any idea of the real extent of the mischief.

“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 anything.’ Longstreet was seated at the top of a snake fence at the edge of the woods (Spangler Woods), 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 bad as further to the rear; for although the air seemed alive with shells, yet the greater number burst behind us. The General told me that Pickett’s Division had succeeded in carrying the enemy’s position and captured his guns, but after remaining there twenty minutes, it had been forced to retire on the retreat of Heth and Pettigrew on his left....

“Major Walton was the only officer with him (Longstreet) when I came up—all the rest had been put in 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....

“Soon after I joined General Lee, who had in the meanwhile come to that part of the field on becoming aware of the disaster. If Longstreet’s conduct was admirable, that of General Lee was perfectly sublime. He was engaged in rallying and in encouraging the broken troops, and was riding about a little in front of the woods, quite alone—the whole of his staff being engaged in a similar manner further to the rear. His face, which is always placid and cheerful, did not show signs of the slightest disappointment, or annoyance; and he was addressing to every soldier he met a few words of encouragement, such as, ‘All this will come right in the end: we’ll talk it over afterwards; but, in the meantime, all good men must rally. We want all good and true men just now.’ He spoke to all the wounded men that passed him, and the slightly wounded he exhorted ‘to bind up their hurts and take up a musket’ in this emergency. Very few failed to answer his appeal, and I saw many badly wounded men take off their hats and cheer him. He said to me, ‘This has been a sad day for us, Colonel—a sad day; but we can’t expect always to gain victories.’ He was also kind enough to advise me to get into some more sheltered position as the shells were bursting round us with considerable frequency....

“I saw General Wilcox come up to him, and explain, almost crying, the state of his brigade. General Lee immediately shook hands with him and said cheerfully, ‘Never mind, General, all this has been _my_ fault—it is I that have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way you can.’ In this manner I saw General Lee encourage and reanimate his somewhat dispirited troops, and magnanimously take upon his own shoulders the whole weight of the repulse.”

GETTYSBURG AND ITS MILITARY PARK

The Gettysburg National Military Park lies entirely within the limits of Adams County, Pennsylvania. Gettysburg, the county-seat, is situated about 8 miles from the Mason and Dixon’s line, the southern boundary of the State. It was founded in 1780, and named for its founder, James Gettys.

At the time of the battle the town had a population of about 2,000. Little did the quiet inhabitants expect that its peaceful environs—Oak Hill, Seminary Ridge, Culp’s Hill, Cemetery Hill, the Round Tops, and Devil’s Den—would witness the most sanguinary struggle of the Civil War, and that Gettysburg would gain a lasting fame, unequaled by the most noted battlefields of the Old World. Not even the commanders, Meade and Lee, knew where they would meet in battle array. Like two giant stormclouds, the two armies neared each other for days, neither foreseeing where they would mingle their lightnings in the storm of battle. Advance forces met and clashed while making reconnaissances—and Gettysburg and its vicinity was selected by accident rather than by design.

What fame Gettysburg enjoyed was due chiefly to its College, then called Pennsylvania, now Gettysburg, and to its Lutheran Theological Seminary. The town had been the home for some years of Thaddeus Stevens, the “Great Commoner,” life-long champion of human rights, savior of the free school system of Pennsylvania, and after his removal to Lancaster, in 1842, a brilliant leader in the House of Representatives during the war. The vicinity furnished its full quota of soldiers, though none of its companies except one, Company K, First Pennsylvania Reserves, participated in the battle, the rest being on duty elsewhere.

The population of Gettysburg has increased to 5,500. The College and Seminary are still flourishing. The College has an enrollment of over 600 students. A Reserve Officers Training Corps has been added to the course, and students are being instructed in military tactics by United States Army officers.

The area of Gettysburg National Military Park, including East Cavalry Field 15 miles east of the town, and South Cavalry Field 3 miles south, is nearly 40 square miles. The part surrounding Gettysburg covers about 24 square miles, and was the scene of the principal engagements on July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, 1863. The Government owns a total of 2,441 acres; the remainder is held by private owners.

The first organization in charge of the battlefield was the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association, upon which the Legislature of Pennsylvania, on April 30th, 1864, conferred the rights of a corporation. In 1867-68 the Legislature appropriated $6,000 to be applied to the purchase of portions of the battlegrounds and the general purposes for which the Association was incorporated. The money was used to secure the portion of Culp’s Hill upon which the breastworks were still standing; the section of East Cemetery Hill where Stewart’s, Reynolds’, Ricketts’, Cooper’s and Weidrick’s batteries were posted, where the lunettes still remain; and also a small piece of ground on the slope and summit of Little Round Top. This purchase was the nucleus of what became, by additional purchases of the Association and later of the Gettysburg National Park Commission, the present Gettysburg National Military Park.

The Legislatures of the Northern States represented in the battle contributed various sums for the prosecution of the work, and from time to time new members of the Association were appointed. As the appropriations were received, additional land was acquired and avenues were laid out. The erection of monuments to the different regiments was begun by the State of Massachusetts in 1879. In 1894, the whole property, about 600 acres of land, with 17 miles of avenues, giving access to 320 monuments, was transferred to the United States Government. The Gettysburg National Military Park was established by Act of Congress, approved February 11th, 1895, and the Secretary of War appointed the Gettysburg National Park Commission: Colonel John P. Nicholson, Pennsylvania, Chairman, John B. Bachelder, Massachusetts, and Brigadier General William H. Forney, Alabama. Colonel E. B. Cope was selected as topographical engineer.

Upon the death of General Forney, Major William M. Robbins, of North Carolina, was appointed to fill the vacancy. John B. Bachelder was succeeded by Major Charles A. Richardson, of New York. On the death of Major Robbins, General L. L. Lomax, of Virginia, was appointed. General Lomax died May 28th, 1913, and Major Richardson on January 24th, 1917. Colonel Nicholson, the last surviving member of the Commission, died on March 8th, 1922. All Commissioners, with the exception of John B. Bachelder, served in the Battle of Gettysburg, and he reached the field immediately after the battle, continuing his interest and his historical researches until his death. On the death of Colonel Nicholson, Colonel E. B. Cope was appointed Superintendent.