July 3, 1863...GETTYSBURG, THE LAST DAY
The night of July 2nd settled over Gettysburg but the
smoke of battle hung in the air as though it were a shroud for the thousands of
dead and wounded who lie on the field of battle. Some suffered in silence,
others called out for their wives or their mothers, while others moaned
plaintively for someone to come and end their misery. On the eastern slope of
Cemetery Ridge, Commanding General George Meade held a “council of war” in his
headquarters building, a tiny two-room farmhouse belonging to the Widow
Leister. By the light of a single oil lantern, the Union generals analyzed the
battles of the last two days and then discussed what was to be done the next
day, July 3rd, if Robert E. Lee decided to attack again. Meade
anticipated another attack. He knew Lee had committed himself despite the lack
of any decisive victory. Given the heavy casualties his side had suffered, the
decision was made to stay on the defensive; furthermore, based on intelligence
obtained from the Confederate prisoners taken that day, it was clear that Lee
had committed every unit to the conflict except for one, that of flamboyant
General George Pickett of “Pete” Longstreet’s 1st Corps. Meade
reasoned that if Lee’s losses were as great as his, then the Army of Northern
Virginia was about to come “unglued” Moreover, since Lee had attacked both of
his flanks, Meade anticipated that Lee would now attack the Union middle
commanded by Hancock, in the mistaken belief that Meade would have reinforced
the ends of his lines. He was convinced that if cautious, the Union could win.
As General Winfield Scott Hancock succinctly put it, “We’ve got ‘em nicked!”
By contrast, General Lee was in no mood for consultation or
discussion. He didn’t even bother to summon his second in command, his “old war
horse,” General Longstreet before issuing his orders, self-convinced of his own
invincibility and that of his army. “The plans have not changed,” was the only
word that Lee sent to “Old Pete.” For his part, Longstreet did not bother to
call on Lee.
"Jeb" Stuart
The one person Lee did see was his errant, prodigal senior
cavalry officer, General “Jeb” Stuart who had been off in the northeast staging
raids and making headlines for himself when he was supposed to be the eyes of
Lee’s army. According to Lee, Stuart’s absence had left him blind as to the
locations and strength of the Union army. Stuart had at last arrived at Lee’s
headquarters on the afternoon of the 2nd, just before Longstreet
launched his offensive, with nothing to show for his absence other than an
intelligence black-out. Lee railed against Stuart for the “blindness” even
though he had basically approved of Stuart’s mission beforehand. Stuart offered
to resign but then Lee stepped back ― he still had need for the ostentatious
cavalry commander in his grand plan for the next day.
The 3rd of July did not begin well, the heat already
becoming oppressive even as the sun began to rise. Beyond that, Union General
Slocum’s XII Corps troops had opened up on General Ewell’s toe-hold positions
on Culp’s Hill from the previous day. That part of the battle was over by 11
a.m. with Ewell convinced once and for all that the hook of Meade’s defensive
“fishhook” could not be taken ― ever. Lee’s only hope rested on his attack
against Meade’s center, holding in his mind the image of General Anderson’s
devastated brigade only briefly breaching the Union line at Cemetery Ridge.
Lee at last called together his senior commanders, including
Longstreet, Hill, Ewell, and Stuart, as well as their division commanders, to
give them their marching orders for the day. They would attack from the west,
this time hitting at what Lee believed to be the Union forces “soft” center. It
was to be a magnificent attack with George Pickett’s 1st Corps
divisions (mostly Virginians) in the lead. Pickett would be supported two of A.
P. Hill’s battered divisions who had fought on July 1, to be commanded by
General Pettigrew and Major General Isaac Trimble. This would mean 15,000 men
who were to march from Seminary Ridge, across more than a mile of open ground,
to Cemetery Ridge, and break through, linking up with Stuart’s cavalry once
that had been accomplished. The focal point would be a grove of trees on the
ridge.
As a prelude, there would be a colossal artillery barrage at 1
p.m. using almost all of the South’s guns to do as much damage to the Union
position and if possible even drive them off of the hill. Then the infantry
would attack once it was determined that the barrage had been successful. Even
though it was A. P. Hills troops who would make up two-thirds of the assault
force, Lee wanted Longstreet to command. “Old Pete,” wanting to distance
himself from what he perceived as disaster, told his commander that perhaps
Hill’s job to lead since it was largely his men. Lee glared at his “old war
horse” and said nothing. Longstreet stepped back from what he had said.
Longstreet was depressed at what he saw facing his men: a blue
wall of Union men and Union guns, just waiting for them on the high ground
across a broad, flat, exposed valley, the guns pointed down on him from the
flanks at Little Round Top and Cemetery Hill. He made one last attempt to
dissuade Lee. “General, I have been a soldier all my life…and I should know as
well as anyone what soldiers can do. It is my opinion that no 15,000 men ever
arrayed for battle can take that position.” Lee ignored the suggestion and held
to his belief that he and his army were invincible, almost super-human. There
would be no defeat.
The troops on the line knew the risks as well. “That’s a
desperate thing to try,” commented one of Pickett’s brigade commanders, Richard
Garnett. One of Anderson’s men commented, “Boys that’s a hot place. We were
there yesterday.”
Southern Cannons
At 1 p.m. the relative silence of the hot July afternoon was broken
by the roar of over 150 Confederate cannons, all lined up opposite Cemetery
Ridge sweeping the heights. The air was thick with black balls flying through
the air: some solid shot and some explosive-filled shells, which rained down on
the Union men below. A cannon ball tore through General Meade’s headquarters
tearing an orderly in two. Everywhere men dove or ran for whatever cover they
could find as the indiscriminate bombs and shrapnel tore at everything from
wagons and tents, to men and horses, to loaded caissons. Ammunition exploded
and horses bolted and ran for points unknown. General Hancock, disregarding his
own safety remained on horseback directing his troops. When a staff officer
begged with him to take cover, Hancock replied, “There are times when a corps
commander’s life does not count”!
The firing was continuous; sometimes the Confederate guns would
fire in order, one after the other, not unlike a string of giant firecrackers.
The noise was so horrendous that it could be heard thirty-five miles away in
Harrisburg. As impressive as the cannonade was however, the “grand barrage” was
largely ineffective and the Union line remained intact, obscured from view by
the thick smoke so that the Rebel gunners could not see where they were hitting
and adjust fire. The Union guns returned fire for a while and then stopped. The
Confederate artillerists thought that the batteries had been put out of action;
however, it was a calculating plan of Chief of Artillery, Major General Henry
Hunt, who had ordered them to go silent so as to lure the Rebels in and at the
same time conserve ammunition for what was to come.
General Longstreet
As the Rebel’s artillery ammunition began to run low, youthful
Colonel Porter Alexander, twenty-eight years of age, in charge of all the
Confederate guns, sent an urgent message to Longstreet, telling him that if he
didn’t begin his attack, the artillery would be unable to help and cover the
infantry assault. Pickett, “chomping at the bit” rode to Longstreet’s
observation post and requested permission to advance. “The old war horse,” knew
that the charge would be a disaster but he had his orders from Lee. Unable to
utter the order himself, he simply nodded to Pickett, who with a cheer
immediately rode off to rouse his men. “Up men and to your posts! Let no man
forget today that you are from Old Virginia!”
General George Pickett
At 2 p.m. the Union troops and officers arrayed along Cemetery
Ridge looked out to the east at a sight that shook them to the quick. As the
smoke cleared there appeared a glorious yet ominous formation, over a mile long
and many ranks deep, of Confederate infantry, crowded together
shoulder-to-shoulder in Napoleonic fashion, their bayonets and rifles gleaming
in the sun as they emerged from the woods of Seminary Ridge, their battle flags
flapping in the breeze. As one Union officer commented, it was “an
overwhelming, resistless tide of an ocean of armed men sweeping upon us!”
Another Union soldier remarked that it was “the most beautiful thing I’d ever
seen.”
The Fates were however about to deal the magnificent Rebels a
terrible blow. General Hunt waited patiently until the enemy formation was
within accurate range of his guns. Suddenly the guns the Rebels had thought
were silenced opened up with a torrent of shot and bombs into the packed
Confederate lines from three sides ― Cemetery Hill, Little Round Top, and
Cemetery Ridge in the middle. Entire companies disappeared as though suddenly
melted as the men fell to the ground killed or wounded. Some Union rounds took
out a dozen men or so at a time; yet with amazing discipline, the “Rebs” would
reform and close up the gaps, ever moving forward, covering a hundred yards a
minute.
When the Confederates reached the Emmitsburg Road, which ran
parallel to Cemetery Ridge some two hundred yards west of it, the Union
infantry raised up with their rifles and began blasting at the oncoming Rebels.
Some men were caught out in the open while others were exposed, unable to do
anything, as they climbed the fences at the road’s edges. They fell by the
hundreds. Now at close range, the Union gunners changed over to using double
charges of canister, giant, deadly shotguns, splintering anything in their path
―fence post, man, or horse. General Garnett was at the head of his troops on
horseback and took a full round of canister face on. After the fighting ceased,
no one could find enough of him to identify. The offensive began to stall and
many of the men who had not been cut down began to turn back. Experience told
them the attack was doomed.
There is told a story of that afternoon that is so brave, so
poetic, so poignant that it is perhaps worthy of a Greek or Roman tragedy. One
of George Pickett’s sub-commanders, General Lewis Armistead, a kind, sensitive,
romantic man, and Winfield Scott Hancock’s closest friend, perhaps more out of
place than any officer there, placed his big floppy hat on the tip of his
sword, held it high above his head and urged what men he had left over the
fences and on to the Union line, shouting “For your home, your friends, your
sweethearts…follow me!” Only a few hundred men followed Armistead the last two
hundred yards where they actually penetrated the Yankee’s positions. They got
past the Union guns, which Armistead ordered turned around, but they were soon
overwhelmed. Armistead was mortally wounded (he died two days later). As he lay
next to a Union cannon, an officer came upon him and knelt next to the dying
General. Armistead asked the officer to help him up and requested to see his
old friend Hancock, only to learn that his dear friend was down, wounded
through the groin, on that same battlefield. “Oh no! Not both of us! Not all of
us! Not now!” Armistead never saw his old friend again, although Hancock did
survive and continued to fight until war’s end.
General Lewis Armistead
The Confederate soldiers not wounded, made their way back to
their own lines either singly or in groups helping wounded comrades along the
way. The attack was over in an hour. Lee had lost 6,600 men. When he ordered a disheveled,
exhausted George Picket to re-form his division and prepare for a Union counterattack, Picket simply looked up at him, tears in his eyes, “General
Lee…I have no division.” To complicate matters more, Jeb Stuarts attack on the
Union flank to the Northeast came to nothing, stymied by a series of aggressive
cavalry charges by then 23-year old George Armstrong Custer.
As Lee watched the remnants of his army limp back across the
field, he could hear the Union troops yelling “Fredericksburg! Fredericksburg!
Fredericksburg!” The Union had their revenge and Longstreet had been proven
right.
Lee rode back to his lines in a daze. What he had thought
impossible had happened. He and his men were not invincible as his
self-delusion led him to believe. Sitting on his horse amid a group of men, he
was heard to say, first softly and then louder, “It was my fault! It was all my
fault.” Many loyal men would have none of it but others, including Longstreet
and Picket, at least to themselves, said, “Indeed it was.” Later George Picket
would write, “That old man had my division slaughtered.” Longstreet would later
write, “It was the saddest day of my life.”
Comments
Post a Comment