Just as Lee was about to strike his tent and follow the First and Second corps up the Rappahannock, the Federals began to stir on Stafford Heights. On the afternoon of June 5, protected by artillery, they laid a pontoon bridge opposite the mouth of Deep Run and crossed a strong column. After watching closely, Lee the next afternoon told Hill the force on the right bank of the river did not appear too strong for the Third Corps to handle. With good wishes to his lieutenant, he rode to overtake the troops who were to invade the Northern states. Hill was left to watch and to worst the enemy.
That proved easy. Hooker did not change his original plan, which was that of reconnaissance and demonstration, and by the morning of June 14 he had withdrawn from the right bank of the Rappahannock. Gradually during the day the thousands of vehicles and tents that had stood for months on Stafford Heights vanished. Hill correctly assumed that Hooker was abandoning the line of the Rapphannock to interpose between Lee and Washington. The duty of the Third Corps now was to follow the main army. Dick Anderson was started that day for Culpeper. Harry Heth followed on the fifteenth. Dorsey Pender was only left long enough to make quite certain the Unionists were not employing a ruse. “Thus far Gen. Lee’s plans have worked admirably …,” Pender wrote his wife. “I do not anticipate any fight this side of the Potomac.”1
Swiftly Pender marched toward the other divisions. The advance prospered. “We have a grand race on hand between Lee and Hooker,” Pender explained. “We have the inside track, Hooker going by Washington and we by Winchester.” Again from Berryville: “Everything thus far has worked admirably…. Keep in good spirits, honey, and hope that this summers work will tend to shorten the war.” Pender’s views were far exceeded by those the newspapers were expressing. “General Lee intends something much more serious than a mere incursion into Pennsylvania …,” the Richmond Dispatch observed with discernment. “The South is, for a time, relieved, and the North is bearing the whole burden of the war.” Other papers, led by the Charleston Mercury, clamored for reprisal and destruction.
During the marches that stirred these thoughts, Hill, Pender, and the other commanders of the Third Corps had for a time the company of Lee. Pender wrote: “The General seemed yesterday in fine spirits, but said he was going to shoot us if we did not keep our men from straggling. They marched finely coming up here.” Of detailed plans Lee said little, but raised many hopes when he told Pender that if the Army of Northern Virginia met and crushed Hooker, and Vicksburg and Port Hudson did their part, “our prospects of peace are very fine.”2
Lee had directed, on the twenty-ninth, that all the corps move east of the mountains in order to hold the enemy there and prevent interruption of his line of communications with Virginia. Hill was to advance in the direction of Cashtown. Longstreet was to follow. Ewell was to march from Carlisle. Under Hill’s direction, Heth proceeded to Cashtown that day. On the thirtieth, Johnston Pettigrew, of Heth’s division, advanced toward Gettysburg, where he had heard he would find some shoes for his barefooted men. Heth remained at Cashtown and, after the practice of Confederates in Northern states, undertook to do a bit of shopping. His particular need was a hat. The one that appealed to him most was too large for him. A clerk at divisional headquarters tucked several folds of paper inside the sweat band and pronounced it a fit. Heth thanked his officer and, as the event proved, had the best of reason for doing so.
Although Heth got his hat at Cashtown, Pettigrew missed the shoes at Gettysburg. Late in the afternoon of June 30 the Carolinian returned and reported that as his troops neared Gettysburg they encountered cavalry outposts. Officers thought they heard, as if on the other side of the town, the roll of infantry drums. When A. P. Hill arrived, Heth had Pettigrew repeat the story of his day’s experience. “The only force at Gettysburg is cavalry,” said Hill confidently—it was corroborated by his scouts and by General Lee’s. “If there is no objection,” Heth answered immediately, “I will take my division tomorrow and go to Gettysburg and get those shoes.”
“None in the world.”3
On those four words fate hung. At 5 o’clock the next morning, July 1, Heth started for Gettysburg. In front was the veteran brigade of Archer. Joe Davis’s brigade followed under its inexperienced, pleasant, and unpretending brigadier. Pettigrew’s North Carolinians and Field’s Virginians, led by Colonel J. M. Brockenbrough, were behind Davis. Prudently, Hill decided to have Pender’s division follow Heth immediately. Anderson’s division, at Fayetteville, would start early that morning for Cashtown.
The day was warm. Water was scarce. Otherwise the march was not unpleasant. Three miles west of Gettysburg blue videttes were encountered, but they did not delay the advance. As the column descended toward Willoughby Run, about a mile and a half from the town, everything indicated the presence of the enemy, but no hostile line was observed. Heth had Archer deploy on the right and Davis on the left and sent them forward to occupy the town. As Archer crossed the little stream there were pauses, shouts, desultory fire. Federals were advancing! Davis, too, quickly met an oncoming force. The fire was instant, the clash furious. As fate would have it, Archer encountered the Iron Brigade, a command of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Indiana soldiers who deserved their name. In a few minutes they overwhelmed Archer’s thin brigade. Archer himself, in pathetic exhaustion, was captured—the first general officer of the army to fall into the hands of the enemy since Lee had taken command.
On the other flank, as it happened, Davis’s advancing line overlapped that of the Federals, who quickly retreated. From lack of experience, Davis permitted two of his regiments, pursuing the enemy, to enter a railroad cut at right angles to the front of attack. There they were captured by a reserve regiment of the Iron Brigade. Back, then, the wreck of Archer’s brigade and the remnant of Davis’s surged. Their reconnaissance had been costly. No choice remained except to renew the fight or quit the field. Neither Lee nor Hill had arrived, and Heth had to make his own decisions. He concluded the soldierly thing to do was to put his infantry in line of battle and prepare for a new advance. Pegram’s and McIntosh’s artillerymen found positions. Heth waited an hour, two hours. He scarcely hoped the enemy would attack him, but he desired to delay his own assault if he could until Hill arrived or Pender was in support.4
At length Lee rode over from Cashtown. Heth reported and learned that Lee did not wish a major battle joined before the converging Southern columns were all in position. Soon, too, word came that Pender was arriving with his division. Desultory action continued. About 2:30, from the north, came the welcome sound of Southern guns. In obedience to Lee’s orders, Ewell’s Second Corps was approaching Gettysburg. Rodes’s division was forming almost at right angles to Heth and preparing to attack. On the road, Ewell received from army headquarters the same information given to Heth: If the Confederates encountered the enemy in large force, they were to avoid a general engagement, if practicable, until the entire army was at hand. Rodes had seen that if he continued along the high ground called Seminary Ridge to the east of Willoughby Run, he could assail in flank the Federals who were opposing Hill. He deployed on a front of three brigades.
Quickly the gunners of Carter’s battalion opened fire to enfilade the Federal line that faced Hill. As Rodes watched, he thought for a moment that the Union forces were caught by surprise and might be routed. Soon he observed troops pouring out of Gettysburg as if to deploy against him. Directly southward, also, the blue regiments began to change front and draw a line across the ridge. Although Rodes could not know it, the whole of the I Corps now was being arrayed against him and Hill. Toward Rodes’s left, two divisions of Howard’s XI Corps—adversaries of Chan-cellorsville—were moving.
Rodes had been assured that Early’s division of the Second Corps would arrive in a short time and take position nearer Gettysburg. Consequently, he determined to hold with his left and attack with his right. George Doles, wholly capable, was directed to place his veteran troops on the left to hold that flank. This made O’Neal’s brigade, forme
rly Rodes’s own, a major element of the column of attack. Iverson, west of O’Neal, would share the advance. Junius Daniel’s brigade, which had never fought in Virginia, was supporting Iverson. In reserve was one of the brigades that had earned greatest fame at Chancellorsville, Ramseur’s North Carolinians. Within the time available this deployment probably was unavoidable, but it was far from ideal. It left the well-tested brigadiers, Ramseur and Doles, out of the first attack and put the direction of the assault on O’Neal and Iverson, who had not distinguished themselves in the battles of May.5
It chanced, also, that from the nature of the ground a gap existed between Doles’s right and O’Neal’s left. To cover this gap, Rodes directed the 5th Alabama, O’Neal’s left regiment, to stay where it was and await Rodes’s personal orders. Further, Rodes realigned O’Neal’s right regiment to a position in line with Daniel’s brigade. These arrangements either angered or confused O’Neal. Soon the Federals moved boldly out to attack Rodes, whose fighting spirit rose at the sight of them. He would strike at once! He pointed out to O’Neal the line of advance. Iverson was to move simultaneously on the right of O’Neal. Daniel would support Iverson.
The advance was launched. In a few minutes it went awry. By some misunderstanding, O’Neal’s front was narrowed to three regiments only. Units were mingled. Direction was faulty. The gap between O’Neal and Doles widened. Another gap appeared between O’Neal and Iverson. It was apparent that Iverson’s line of advance was exposing the whole of Daniel’s supporting brigade. The Alabama regiments of O’Neal opened their fire but, in their confusion, could not drive the enemy. To Rodes’s surprise, he found that O’Neal had remained back with the 5th Alabama instead of going forward to direct the advancing regiments. “The result,” Rodes subsequently stated, “was that the whole brigade, with the exception of the Third Alabama …, was repulsed quickly, and with loss.”
That was not the full measure of humiliation. Word was brought to Rodes from the frantic Iverson that one of his regiments had raised the white flag and gone over to the enemy! Such a thing had never happened in the Army of Northern Virginia. For a few minutes there was chaos. Soon the ghastly truth was discovered: In Iverson’s advance his line of battle had come under a decimating fire and men fell by scores. Still fighting, the left units were exposed when O’Neal was repulsed, and some of Iverson’s men, realizing they were about to be surrounded and slaughtered, waved their handkerchiefs in surrender. Iverson saw this and thought the dead men in line were alive and were yielding. So unnerved was he, as his brigade scattered, that one of his staff had to assume command.6
To the south, Harry Heth had seen enough of this confusion to feel certain that Rodes was having a desperate fight. Heth could not find A. P. Hill, and consequently he rode to Lee, who silently was watching the battle. “Rodes is very heavily engaged,” said Heth, “had I not better attack?” “No,” Lee answered, “I am not prepared to bring on a general engagement today—Longstreet is not up.”7
Over the ground to which Lee and Heth were looking, Daniel’s brigade was now advancing. Daniel got astride the railroad cut where earlier many of Davis’s men had been captured, but could not throw all his troops immediately into the assault. Ramseur, with the reserve brigade, was advancing to support the center, where O’Neal and Iverson had been repulsed. George Doles was fully occupied on the left. The prospect was grim. All of Rodes’s troops now were engaged or soon were to be. The young divisional commander who had won plaudits at Chancellorsville was not sweeping the field. He was, on the contrary, in undeniable difficulty. His men were fighting gallantly enough, but clumsy mistakes and nervous failures of leadership had almost wrecked the division. Robert Rodes might be headed for a humiliating defeat.
Then, once again, as so often had happened to Lee’s army, the most desperate moment proved the most fortunate. On the left of Rodes, where Doles was hard-pressed, Gordon’s brigade of Early’s division arrived from the north and rushed into action. About the same time, with Lee’s consent, Hill sent Heth forward. When the division grew weary and Heth himself fell with a head wound, Hill sent Pender’s division through the ranks of Heth to clear Seminary Ridge. It was done with the fierce might that always made Pender’s charges terrifying. Rodes was able, meantime, to advance Daniel and Ramseur and parts of O’Neal’s and Iverson’s brigades. Doles now attacked as if he wished to be avenged for having to maintain an earlier defensive. Seminary Ridge was cleared, but beyond that high ground General Hill did not think it prudent to advance his exhausted and now disordered troops.
Attack of Rodes’s division near Gettysburg, afternoon of July 1, 1863. Encircled numerals indicate the successive positions.
Ramseur and Doles, of Rodes’s division, pursued the enemy into Gettysburg. Hays’s brigade of Early’s division, losing few, also fought its way into town, where Union soldiers of the I and XI corps were crowded in confusion and bewilderment. About 4,000 prisoners were captured in the town; an additional 1,000 were taken on the ridge and elsewhere. Among the Confederates an exultant spirit prevailed. Rodes’s discomfiture and the earlier repulse of Archer and Davis were forgotten. Gettysburg, the soldiers felt, was Chancellorsville all over again: The enemy was being routed. Officers of the high command were no less pleased, but they had no time for rejoicing. A new decision had to be made.8
2
EWELL CANNOT REACH A DECISION
In the direction of Rodes’s battle and Early’s advance, Dick Ewell had small part. The fight of Rodes had been too swift, too full of change, and too confused for the corps commander to have any useful role. Ewell had the sound, soldierly sense not to interfere where he could not aid. As for Early, his dispositions had been prompt and confident. They had called for no correction. When Lee’s courier had brought the message that if Ewell found the enemy “too large” the commanding general did not want an engagement brought on until the remaining divisions arrived, Ewell pondered this instruction with his blood up. He concluded that he could not break off the fight without disaster, and he had pressed it vigorously.9
Now that the enemy was being driven out of Gettysburg, Ewell rode toward the town and had a nearer view of the high ground to the south of it. A mile away was Cemetery Hill, about eighty feet above the level of the center of Gettysburg. Somewhat closer to the town and to the east was a second eminence, East Cemetery Hill, almost as high. Still farther east-ward, around the head of a ravine, the ground rose nearly another 100 feet to a rocky, wood-covered eminence which the natives called Culp’s Hill. From the crest of Cemetery Hill to the top of Culp’s Hill, as Ewell looked at them, the distance was slightly more than half a mile. These elevations dominated the town. It was manifest, also, that Cemetery Hill and an elevation south of it constituted a natural defense against attack from Seminary Ridge, the high ground where Hill’s weary men were awaiting orders.
Gettysburg and vicinity.
On Cemetery and East Cemetery hills, Federal infantry were visible, but in what numbers it was difficult to ascertain. The bluecoats were evidently to defend the hills. Toward them—a thrilling sight for Southern eyes—were moving the Union troops who had been driven from Seminary Ridge. Some were without formation. Others, dogged and better controlled, moved slowly in column. If these troops reached Cemetery Hill and entrenched, they might be able to hold out until they were reinforced. Many Southern officers stated the situation in reverse: If the hill were attacked at once, the Federals could be routed. It was not yet 4 o’clock. The summer sun was more than three hours above the horizon. Darkness would not fall until after 8 o’clock.
Gordon was for instant attack. He believed that a swift thrust at one Federal command after another, before they concentrated, would give the Confederates the hill and the victory. He hurried to Second Corps headquarters and found Ewell on a quiet mount, immobile. Outwardly Old Bald Head was the same man who had made swift decision three weeks previously at Winchester, the same Ewell who that very afternoon had decided that he must press the fight, e
ven though Lee wished to avoid a general engagement. Inwardly, something had happened to the will of Richard Ewell. In place of his usual chatter there was silence. While some of the most fateful seconds in American history ticked past, he waited. Gordon waited, too, tensely expectant, but he got no orders.
Then Kyd Douglas rode up from Allegheny Johnson with the announcement that Johnson was advancing along the Chambersburg road and on arrival could go into action. Before Ewell made any reply, Gordon broke disciplinary bounds. In the ardor of battle and the magnitude of the opportunity, he disdained etiquette. He could join Johnson’s attack, he said. Cemetery Hill could be taken before dark.
The old-time Dick Ewell would have piped “Yes, attack!” before the words were off Gordon’s lips. This new, changed lieutenant general paid no heed to Gordon. Deliberately Ewell turned to Douglas with his answer: Johnson should continue his advance until well to the front, then halt and await orders. There was nothing more for Gordon to say; but some auditors who had been on the staff of Stonewall Jackson scarcely could believe their own ears, or credit the eyes which told them the man before them was the once-decisive Dick Ewell. Sandie Pendleton said in a low voice, with intense feeling, “Oh, for the presence and inspiration of Old Jack for just one hour!”
With Gordon still by his side, Ewell started into Gettysburg. He found, quickly enough, that some Federals remained in the town. There came a fusillade and several men fell. Gordon heard the ugly, familiar thud of a minié ball close by. Ewell had been struck. “Are you hurt, sir?” cried Gordon. Ewell was calm. “No, no, I’m not hurt. But suppose that ball had struck you: we would have had the trouble of carrying you off the field, sir. You see how much better fixed for a fight I am than you are. It don’t hurt a bit to be shot in a wooden leg.” That sounded like the old Ewell … but still, though thousands of Federal refugees were climbing Cemetery Hill, there was no decision.10
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