Three Years in the Sixth Corps Part 18

In the meantime, General Howard, with the Eleventh corps, was hastening to the a.s.sistance of the First. Just before receiving his fatal wound, General Reynolds had sent a messenger to Howard, who, with his corps, was ten miles behind, to hasten forward as rapidly as possible.

The men of that corps were burning to wipe out the unfortunate record of Chancellorsville, and the roar of artillery before them, inspired vigor in their movements and urged them forward; but the noise of the battle was heard by others.

Ewell, with his confederates, was but three miles off; and while the Unionists looked for the coming of help, a fresh corps reinforced the rebels. But the opposing forces were, for the time, willing to allow a lull in the battle. So, from ten o'clock until half-past two the First corps held the enemy at bay. By this time a division of the Eleventh corps was on the ground and another on the other side of Gettysburgh.

General Howard took command. The Union reinforcements were just arriving; those of the rebels had already taken their position, and were ready for a desperate charge.

Suddenly, rushing from the cover of the woods in which they had debouched from the York road, the old corps of Stonewall Jackson, now under Ewell, charged, with yells, down upon the Eleventh. The Germans, this time stood their ground, returning with spirit, the volleys of their old antagonists.

On the left, Hill was also charging fiercely upon the First corps, and the st.u.r.dy divisions of Wadsworth and Cutler were almost destroyed.

The rebel line now overlapped that of the Union forces on either flank, and the two corps under Howard were in danger of being surrounded by the greater numbers of their adversaries. The lines began to waver under the fearful storm of lead and iron, and the order was given to fall back.

The lines retired in good order until they reached the town. There, in pa.s.sing through the streets, the Germans became confused and alarmed, and the retreat of the corps became a rout. Twelve hundred were taken prisoners in the streets. The First corps maintained its line of battle and held its foe at a distance in spite of the deadly fire which was decimating its ranks. The heroic Wadsworth cheered and encouraged his men by his own n.o.ble example, while the messengers of death shrieked thickly about him. On the right of the corps, Hill had already forced back the line, and now the Eleventh corps having left him, both flanks of his division were exposed. It was useless to protract the hopeless struggle, and these st.u.r.dy troops also fell back, retiring slowly and firmly, while the rebels, flushed with victory, were pouring into front and flank the most deadly fire. It was a moment of vital importance to our army and our cause. A rout of these two corps, while the remaining two-thirds of the army was separated in columns far distant from each other, must insure the destruction of each column in detail, and give to the rebels undisputed sway throughout the north. But the christian hero, whose empty sleeve testified of hard fought fields before, was still sufficient for the crisis. Halting the retreating divisions as they reached the line of hills upon the south side of the town, and selecting a ridge called Cemetery Hill for his second line of battle, he reformed his disordered ranks, and planting batteries so as to sweep the declivity in front and on right and left, awaited the onset of the victorious hosts. On they came, until half through the town, when, from the whole line of guns on the crest, burst a murderous fire, from which the a.s.sailants staggered in consternation.

The tide was turned; for now a part of Hanc.o.c.k's Second corps was coming up, and in half an hour the rebels retired, and the one-armed general was master of the situation. But the day had been a fearful one for the two corps.

The First corps had lost its general, loved and admired for his bravery.

Hundreds from the ranks of the corps, lay beyond the village stretched in death. Of those who went into the fight in the morning, but one-half remained.

The havoc was almost as fearful in the Eleventh corps. Hundreds had been killed and a greater number captured. Yet there was no faltering among those veterans, and when, toward evening, the Third and Twelfth corps arrived upon the field, their confidence and hope rose, and all now believed that our army was yet destined to achieve a grand victory.

No further demonstrations were made on either side that night. Each party was gathering its strength for the grand conflict. Late in the evening General Meade arrived on the field, and with General Howard proceeded to inspect the ground, and make arrangements for posting the troops of the army.

The Eleventh corps was still to occupy Cemetery Hill, just opposite the town. Upon a knoll to the right of the Eleventh corps was the First corps, and still farther, and forming the extreme right of the army, was the Twelfth corps, General Sloc.u.m. On the left of Cemetery Hill, occupying the extension of the ridge and a prominent hill, Round Top, the Third corps, General Sickles, was posted, and the Second corps, General Hanc.o.c.k. The Fifth corps was to be held in reserve until the arrival of the Sixth corps. Thus through the night, the two armies lay upon their arms, each watching the other, to wake to a contest more fearful than the last.

At daylight Thursday morning, July 2d, the rebel skirmishers opened fire upon parts of our lines of pickets, but there was little betokening any general engagement. Occasionally a few of the skirmishers of the enemy, would make a charge upon parts of our line forcing back the pickets, but a gun from some one of our batteries would hastily send them to the rear again. Doubtless it was for the purpose of disclosing the positions of our batteries, that their dashes were made. Thus the day wore on until four o'clock.

General Sickles, with the Third corps, had moved out beyond the general line of battle nearly a mile, and had come upon the advance of the enemy, where Longstreet, with one-third of the rebel army, was concentrating his forces against the left flank, with the hope of turning it and seizing the ridge.

The battle opened at once. Seven batteries of artillery opened upon front and flank of the exposed corps, and large bodies of infantry in column by division. The corps withstood the shock heroically, and was soon strengthened by troops from the Second corps. Our artillery now opened upon the rebels from the ridge, and hurled destruction upon them.

The valley was filled with bursting missiles, and the smoke rolled up in huge columns. It was at this stage of the great battle that the Sixth corps arrived on the ground, after its unparalleled march, and the Fifth corps was at once ordered into the fight. For an hour the Sixth corps was the reserve of the army, but even this reserve was soon called into action.

The writer, while our corps waited for orders, rode along the front, from where the Second and Third corps were engaged in their deadly struggle with the enemy, across Cemetery Ridge and to the hill where, on the right of the line, Sloc.u.m had established his head-quarters, and he will attempt to describe the field as he saw it.

To form a correct idea of the position of the armies, one should imagine two ranges of hills, between which was the valley and the village of Gettysburgh.

These ridges are nearly parallel, and are from a mile to a mile and a half asunder. Their course is not a direct line but curving. The ridge on which our forces are posted, bend outward and backward, so that the line is in the form of a half circle, fronting from the center, while the rebels were forced to occupy an exterior line facing towards the center.

At Gettysburgh several roads converge, first, on the right is the Baltimore turnpike, next is the road to Taneytown, and further to the left is the Emmitsburgh road. These all meet at Cemetery Hill, which is the key to the whole situation.

Cemetery Hill is in the center of a range of hills running south and west from Gettysburgh, and considerably in front of the others. Standing upon its summit, the spectator looks down upon the village, a little to his right and upon the long declivity stretching between the crest and the town.

The crest of this ridge is bristling with batteries, which are so arranged as to sweep the declivity, the valley below, and the opposite range of hills. Here, by the side of the Baltimore pike, General Howard has his head-quarters, and just in front lie long lines of infantry, who wear the crescent badge, which distinguishes the Eleventh corps.

Stretching to the left and rear, Cemetery Ridge gradually diminishes in elevation, until it reaches an abrupt peak which rises considerably above the other hills of the range. This is Round Top. It is covered with timber at its summit, its sides are rugged, and, toward the enemy, quite steep. On the north slope of Round Top, the Second and Third corps are maintaining the unequal struggle with one-third of the rebel army.

The roar of musketry is awful beyond description, and the whole valley trembles with the thunder of the artillery. On the right of Cemetery Ridge is another elevation, Sloc.u.m's Hill, where the commander of the Twelfth corps sits among the huge fragments of rock, watching his own and the enemy's line in his front, and where is another battery, which from time to time is sending its screaming messengers to the hills beyond or across a little stream which winds along the right of his position.

In rear of Sloc.u.m's Hill is a little whitewashed cottage, surrounded by a picket fence. There are two or three wall tents in the yard, and many horses are tied to the fence. This is the head-quarters of the army.

From this point General Meade is directing all the movements of the Union forces.

It will be seen that our troops could be sent from one point to another of the line, easily and quickly, while the rebels, who occupied the exterior of the circle, must make long circuits in order to reinforce one part of the field with troops from another. For the first time since Malvern Hill, our forces had the advantage of position.

The rebel lines which had so fiercely attacked the Third corps, steadily advanced, pouring destruction before them, while the two corps, unable to resist the weight of the advancing columns, steadily fell back. At the moment that the Sixth corps reached the field, the Fifth were rushing to the a.s.sistance of the wavering lines on Round Top.

It was a glorious spectacle, as the veteran wearers of the St. Andrew's cross rushed along the rear of the peak and among the rocks, at double-quick, and then suddenly moving by the flank, formed in line of battle. Through the woods and down the slope they rush, fall upon the advancing columns, and check their progress. The Union line now advance upon the rebels, who fall back more. Shot and sh.e.l.ls pour in a fearful storm from the rebel batteries, sweeping the slope of Round Top and the crest of Cemetery Hill. Here, near Howard's quarters, a train of ambulances and army wagons attract the fire of the enemy, and the bursting sh.e.l.ls soon send them hurrying through the narrow defile in the rocks through which the road pa.s.ses, panic stricken. For more than two hours the desperate battle rages on the left, while the right, except that on either side artillery belches forth its thunders, is quiet. The Sixth corps, the only reserve of the army, is also put into the line on the left; only one brigade, Neill's, is sent to the right to reinforce Sloc.u.m, who has also sent a great portion of his corps to the left, and against whom the rebels are now charging. The doubtful contest ceases as darkness gathers over the battle-field, leaving the rebels still in possession of some of the ground occupied by Sickles' corps at four o'clock.

Both armies again lay upon their arms, waiting for daylight, by which to renew the contest. The losses in the Second and Third corps had been fearful, and scarcely less were those of the Fifth. From our own Sixth corps, there were many killed and wounded, but compared with these others, the loss was slight. General Sickles had been wounded early in the fight, and suffered amputation of a leg. The morning of July 3d dawned brightly, and at once the rattle of musketry told of the renewal of strife. On the right, where Sloc.u.m with a single division of his own troops and our Third brigade of Howe's division, Sixth corps, held the long line, an attempt was made to retake the rifle pits which the rebels had captured yesterday. The rebels in turn charged furiously. They had possession of some of our pits, and now they hoped to turn our flank and rout the army; but the small force replied to the desperate charge of the whole of Ewell's corps with the most stubborn resistance. Charge after charge was made, but to no avail. At length Neill's brigade pa.s.sed far to the right of the rebel line, and poured an enfilading volley into the gray-coats. They, supposing that a heavy force had got on their flank withdrew, when our forces charging in turn, drove them with great loss from the rifle pits, which were held during the remainder of the engagement in spite of repeated efforts to dislodge our forces. By noon quiet prevailed along the whole line, except that now and then a shot from some of our batteries screamed across the valley, but eliciting no reply. The rebel lines could be seen moving here and there as if preparing for a desperate struggle. The men at our batteries declared that so completely had they got the range of the other crests that the rebels dare not open a piece. Little did they imagine that more than a hundred guns were concentrating just behind the little strip of woods below them.

This unwonted silence continued until about one o'clock, when suddenly, as though pandemonium had broken loose, the air was filled with the shrieks, screams, howls and clangor of bursting sh.e.l.ls. The sky was filled with smoke, amid which flames darted in every direction, and the valley and hills quaked with the thunders of artillery. Never on this continent had been heard such cannonading as this. For two hours this storm of sh.e.l.l and shot raged in all its fury. At the first opening of the storm, parts of our line were forced back, but they quickly advanced again. Horses and men fell together, mangled and torn by the screaming missiles. In some of our batteries every horse was destroyed, and the men drew back the pieces by hand to save them from capture. One hundred and twenty-five guns were concentrated against our left center, which continued for two hours to belch forth death and destruction. At length, when it was supposed that our guns were silenced, and our infantry confused by the fearful cannonade, came the expected charge of infantry.

Longstreet's corps, ma.s.sed, with Picket's division in front, rushed forward with the well known yells, which rang above the clangor of musketry and artillery, and threw themselves with utmost fury upon the Union lines. Our men had waited the onset with unflinching courage, and now poured into the a.s.sailants a most murderous fire, which hurled them back and strewed the ground with their dead and dying. Again, with the fierceness of desperation, they rush forward, and again are met with the same deadly reception. Hundreds from the attacking columns, in order to escape the certain doom, threw down their arms and came in as prisoners.

The tide of battle lulled for a time.

Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel army.

The heavy ma.s.ses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness.

They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points, actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires, from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.

This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with enormous losses.

No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet, notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.

In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded that he could by no possibility a.s.sume a cheerful countenance, would shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at the stoical bravery manifested by the northern troops. If one had pa.s.sed along where our men were lying in rows, he would only now and then have heard a groan escape from some poor fellow who had received a bullet through the abdomen or some such fatal and painful wound. But let a group of wounded rebels be placed in some part of the hospital, and their groans were heart-rending. This contrast is not overdrawn. Every surgeon who has had opportunities to observe the difference in the bearing of wounded men of the two armies, can testify to the greater heroism of the northern soldier at such times.

CHAPTER XX.

PURSUIT OF LEE'S ARMY.

Scenes of the field of Gettysburgh--The rebel hospitals--The sightless rebel soldier boy--The Sixth corps at Fairfield--"Hurrah for the Union"--Kilpatrick's handiwork--At Waynesboro'--On picket--A division of militia--The Vermonters at Funkstown--The army at Funkstown--Meade's failure to attack--New York riots--Return to Virginia.

The battle was over and the invading army which had suffered such a crushing defeat, had only to gather up its shattered remnants and hastily retrace its steps southward. We were in no condition to renew immediate hostilities. Every man and every gun had been brought into service. Never before had all of our army been fought at once. At Gettysburgh, every man of the infantry reserve, and every gun of the reserve artillery had been brought into action. The men were exhausted by their tedious marches and hard fighting, while our ammunition was well nigh spent.

During the night of the 4th of July, Lee's army retreated, and on the morning of the 5th, our Sixth corps, Sedgwick's cavalry as the corps was called, was sent in pursuit on the Fairfield road. The battle-field was horrible. Dead men were thickly strewed over the fields with their faces blackened, and eyes starting from their sockets; and upturned, swollen horses lay, sometimes in groups of six or eight, showing where some battery had suffered fearfully. As we pa.s.sed the scene of the conflict on the left, at the foot of Round Top, was a scene more than usually hideous. Blackened ruins marked the spot where, on the morning of the third, stood a large barn. It had been used as a hospital. It had taken fire from the sh.e.l.ls of the hostile batteries, and had quickly burned to the ground. Those of the wounded not able to help themselves were destroyed by the flames, which in a moment spread through the straw and dry material of the building. The crisped and blackened limbs, heads and other portions of bodies lying half consumed among the heaps of ruins and ashes, made up one of the most ghastly pictures ever witnessed, even on the field of battle. But we pa.s.sed these direful scenes to meet with others of less shocking but still sad character. Every house and barn from Gettysburgh to Fairfield was a hospital; and about most of the large barns, numbers of dilapidated hospital tents served to increase the accommodations for the wounded.

All of the worst cases were left in these hospitals, the number being estimated, by the rebel surgeons in charge, at no less than fifteen thousand. Never had we witnessed such sad scenes as we were pa.s.sing through to-day. The confederate surgeons were doing what they could for their wounded, but they were dest.i.tute of medicines and surgical appliances, and even food sufficient to supply those in their charge. At one of these barns some of our officers stopped, and as they pa.s.sed among the gray-clad sufferers who were lying in rows upon the barn floors, one, a boy apparently not more than sixteen years of age, attracted the notice of one of the company, a surgeon. The lad looked more like a delicate girl than a soldier; his hair fell from his fair forehead in long flaxen curls upon his pillow of straw, some of them matted with blood; his cheek was rosy, and his soft white hand told of a youth spent amid more tender scenes than those of the camp. A piece of linen laid across his face covered a ghastly wound where a ball had pa.s.sed through his face, and had torn both his eyes from their sockets.

The surgeon spoke a kind word to the youth, who stretched out his hand, saying, "Come near me, I want to touch you." The doctor stooped over him, and the boy, pressing his hand in his own, said, "You are a friend, are you not?" "Yes, I am a friend to all the unfortunate." "But are you not a confederate?" "No." The boy clung to the hand of the surgeon in silence for a moment, and then said slowly, "I did not think a federal would speak so kindly to me; your voice sounds like that of a friend, and your hand feels like one; will you not stay with me?" When the other told him that he must follow his command, he replied: "Oh! I shall never hear any one speak so kindly to me again; my mother lives in North Carolina, but she will not see me. Can you not stay?" The doctor was far from being a rebel sympathizer, yet he turned away from the poor boy, with a sad face and a deep drawn sigh, to join the moving column.

Early next morning we pa.s.sed through the somewhat dilapidated village of Fairfield. Our advance threw a few sh.e.l.ls down the street, scattering a body of cavalry, which had been left in town, and killing some of the horses attached to their battery. A mile beyond the town the South Mountain range rose in our front, the road running through a narrow pa.s.s. Here the rear guard of the rebel army was strongly posted. Neill's and the Jersey brigade advanced against the rebel skirmishers, but after losing some six or eight men they were ordered to halt. General Sedgwick deeming the position too strong to a.s.sault with his corps from the front, reported to General Meade that the pa.s.s was very strong, and one in which a small force of the enemy could hold in check for a considerable time, a force much larger than its own. The main body of the army, therefore, was moved around their flank by way of Frederick; while Neill's brigade, with Colonel McIntosh's brigade of cavalry and two light batteries, all under command of General Neill, were made to form a flying division to hara.s.s the enemy in the rear.

Our march over the mountain that day was by a wild, romantic route, than which none more charming could be asked by tourist in search of nature's wildest moods. Before each little log house by the roadside would stand a wondering group, astonished at seeing such mult.i.tudes of men in those secluded regions, where scarcely a dozen travelers usually pa.s.sed in a week. At one place, as the column was pa.s.sing a cottage half hidden by sunflowers and flowering beans, those at the head of the column were heard cheering heartily; and, as we advanced, other voices took up the cheer, exciting the curiosity of those behind. In the midst of the noise, sounded a shrill voice; and as we approached, we saw, sitting upon the fence in front of the cottage, a little boy, about four years old, his face flushed with excitement, his flaxen hair flying in the wind, as he was waving his little hat, and with childlike indistinctness shouting in his shrill tones, "Hurrah for 'e Union! Hurrah for 'e Union!"

Soon those in the rear of the line heard those ahead shouting again, and another shrill voice was heard between the cheers of the men. There by the roadside stood an old man, over whom more than eighty years had pa.s.sed, with voice indistinct with the tremor of age, all excited as the little boy had been, his hair tossed about by the breeze, as with hat swinging he too was shouting, "Hurrah for the Union! Hurrah for the Union!" And the cheers of the mult.i.tude again rang in response to the old man's shout. We could but note the similarity and the disparity. One vaguely dreamed of those blessings which the other had fully realized, and for which he had struggled; and the same shout was lifted up by those two children--the one of four, and the other of fourscore--the one with the flaxen curls of childhood, and the other with the white locks of age--the one voice with the shrill treble of infancy, and the other with the high-keyed tones of decrepitude. Those people, who had seen the rebel army pa.s.s a few hours before, now felt the value of the Union.

On the summit of the mountain we pa.s.sed Monterey Springs, a charming summer retreat, where the Pennsylvanians resort to indulge in the sports of trout-fishing and deer-hunting. Pa.s.sing down the western slope of the mountain, the handiwork of Kilpatrick was strewed along the roadside for miles. As the battle of Gettysburgh drew to a close, and General Meade knew that Lee must retreat toward Virginia, he had sent the dashing Kilpatrick with his brigade of cavalry to hara.s.s the rebels in their flight. Reaching these mountains, the cavalry had come upon a long rebel train of wagons and ambulances, hastening with all speed, with their lading of stolen goods and provisions and their wounded men, towards the Potomac. With shouts and cheers the hors.e.m.e.n dashed from the cover of the woods, upon the flying train, shot the leading horses and mules, captured the drivers and remaining animals, appropriated the stolen goods to their own use, and burned the wagons. Now, as we marched down the forest road, the wildness of the scene was heightened by the remains of the ruined wagons which lined the wayside, some burned, some with the wheels disabled by cutting the spokes, others tumbled off the steep embankment. For more than three miles, these remnants of the rebel trains met our view.