Rossiter Johnson’s Campfire and Battlefield was a popular narrative history of the war published in 1894. Concerning Sickles’ wound at Gettysburg, Johnson quoted an observer from Regis de Trobriand’s command (possibly staff officer Captain Benjamin Piatt): “I was within a few feet of General Sickles when he received the wound by which he lost his leg.” In this version, far from being calmly unaffected, Sickles half-fell to the ground exclaiming excitedly, “‘Quick, quick! Get something and tie it up before I bleed to death!’ These were his exact words, and I shall never forget the scene as long as I live, for we all loved General Sickles.” According to the officer, Sickles was carried to the Trostle house, “coolly smoking a cigar, quietly remarking to a Catholic priest.…‘Man proposes and God disposes.’ His leg was amputated within less than half an hour after receiving the wound.”30
What would become one of the most influential primary accounts of Sickles’ wounding originated from the pen of Private William H. Bullard, a drummer in the 70th New York. In 1897, Bullard wrote Sickles a letter documenting his memories. The letter resulted from a reunion in Buffalo, New York, where Bullard had apparently promised Sickles to “state as near as I remember my personal experience” concerning the wounding.31
During the battle, Bullard was detached along with the other musicians to act as a stretcher-bearer. After carrying several wounded off the field, Bullard was returning to the front “when I noticed a commotion near Gen. Sickles and saw him taken from his horse. I hastened to him thinking I could be of service in some way, the aides on his staff gave way for me.” Carrying silk cords and a canteen “filled with stimulants,” Bullard examined the wound and bound the leg to stop the blood loss. “I shall never forget how white the Gen. was. I gave him something from my canteen which seemed to revive him. I then placed him on the stretcher and was about to start for the ambulances which were placed behind large rocks.” According to Bullard, Sickles asked before they started away, “Won’t you be kind enough to light a cigar for me?” Bullard took a small cigar from an inside case in Sickles’ pocket, bit the end off, lit the cigar, and placed it in Sickles’ mouth. Bullard knew they needed to get Sickles to a surgeon quickly. “I started with him along the line we had to go quite a distance to get to the ambulances.”32 The Third Corps line was breaking, continued Bullard,
and as we were hastening along the lines the men and officers noticed we had Gen Sickles and the word passed along the line that he was mortally wounded. General Sickles heard them and he raised himself up and said ‘No No not so bad as that. I am all right and will be with you in a short time’ and in his old Clarion voice the boys knew so well, said ‘you must hold your position and win this battle, don’t waver, stand firm and you will surely win’ or something to that effect.33
The sight of their wounded general “seemed to put new life in the men,” recalled Bullard, who helped place Dan into the ambulance and was ready to return to the field when Sickles “said it was his wish that I should go with him which I did.” Bullard recounted nothing more of the ambulance ride until they “took him to old Penna. Barn or stone barn and Dr. Ash [sic] I think and others amputated his leg.”34
Another account, which would have a similarly large influence on Sickles’ depiction, was the 1902 regimental history of the Excelsiors’ 72nd New York: “As he was placed on a stretcher the General was informed that his men thought he was mortally wounded. To correct this report, and cheer up the men, he requested the Drum Major of the First Regiment, who had charge of the brigade stretcher bearers, to take a cigar case from an inside pocket, and light a cigar for him. This having been done, the General was carried along the line, coolly smoking, to a road leading to the rear.”35
Of all the contemporary accounts, only Tremain and Randolph actually appear to have been on the scene for any length of time. There is no reason to doubt Bullard’s assertion that he was also there. Both Tremain and Bullard’s recollections were written decades later, however, although Tremain claimed to be relying heavily on correspondence written immediately after the battle. Tremain’s Sickles is badly wounded, pale, heavily stimulated, and potentially dying. There is no dramatic encouragement of his men. Perhaps it did indeed occur. But if it did, it was not impressive enough for Tremain to mention. There is also an inconsistency between Tremain and Bullard in that Tremain specifically states that he was riding alone with Sickles until they were joined by O’Hagan.36
With this rather inconsistent historical record, twentieth century historians transformed Sickles’ wounding into a Gettysburg myth. Sickles’ biographers have led the charge, beginning with Edgcumb Pinchon’s Dan Sickles: Hero of Gettysburg and ‘Yankee King of Spain’ (1945). “Fearing the effect the news might have upon his men, his orderlies rushed him to the rear. There, stoically smoking a cigar while he waited for the surgeon, he demanded to be kept informed of every development on the battle front.” Pinchon’s version is relatively understated (which is surprising given the overall tone of his biography), but one wonders if the “stoicism” noted by many was actually a stupor brought on by shock, exhaustion, blood loss, and “stimulants” being pumped into him “by the wholesale.”37
As noted previously, a decade later Sickles’ most widely read biography (Swanberg’s Sickles the Incredible) took the theme a step further. Swanberg’s biography is important in that it has become a standard reference in any study of Dan Sickles. Swanberg’s Sickles was “only moderately upset,” “cool,” and was “carried away with the Havan projecting dauntily from his mouth.” Swanberg’s sources include Rossiter Johnson’s Campfire and Battlefield, Tremain’s memoirs, William Doster’s account, and the 72nd New York regimental history. Swanberg’s version was clearly influenced by the 72nd New York’s 1902 history, of which Swanberg’s description is nearly an abbreviated copy. None of Swanberg’s other sources suggested that his cigar was an intentional attempt to rally the troops. Swanberg also relegated to his chapter notes a letter from Private Felix Brannigan of the 73rd New York that called Sickles staff officer Orson Hart “more collected than his superior.”38
No major Sickles biography appeared for decades after Swanberg, and full-scale treatments of the battle, with Sickles only one among a cast of thousands, generally treated the incident more modestly. Among the major works, Edward Stackpole’s They Met at Gettysburg (1956) said nothing, and Glenn Tucker’s High Tide at Gettysburg (1958) touched on the wounding only briefly, recounting how a small detail carried Sickles into the Trostle farmhouse. Edwin Coddington’s The Gettysburg Campaign (1968) offered no details in his main text, but Coddington had access to John Bachelder’s papers and cited George Randolph’s rediscovered letter to Bachelder as his primary source. Sickles assumed a more prominent role in Harry Pfanz’s Gettysburg: The Second Day (1987): “Sickles took it [the cigar] and puffed away. Sickles’ condition soon attracted attention. In order to present a brave and calming front, Sickles raised himself on the stretcher so that passers-by could see that he was alive if not well and asked them to stand firm.” Pfanz’s source was William Bullard’s 1897 letter to Sickles.39
Pfanz’s classic work subsequently became a definitive reference in any post-1987 study on Gettysburg’s second day. As a result, William Bullard’s letter inadvertently became an authoritative account of Sickles’ wounding. A case in point occurs in I Follow the Course, Come What May, a 1998 Sickles biography by Jeanne Knoop. “To stop any rumor of his death, which would demoralize his troops,” wrote Knoop, “prior to the ambulance’s arrival, he kept smoking the cigar and waving to his men.” Knoop’s source was Pfanz’s Gettysburg: The Second Day.40
In Noah Andre Trudeau’s Gettysburg:ATesting of Courage (2002), the primary elements of Swanberg and Pfanz’s versions were retained. Sickles was transformed from Swanberg’s “daunty” to “jaunty.” “Before the ambulance appeared to transport him to the Third Corps field hospital, the wounded Sickles had himself propped up with cigar in mouth, jauntily urging the soldiers who passed him to stand fi
rm.” In 2003, Stephen Sears’ Gettysburg was nearly identical: “Game to the end, Sickles puffed jauntily on a cigar as he was carried away.”41
In 2002, novelist Thomas Keneally graphically described the wounding scene in his Sickles biography, American Scoundrel:
Dan was still astride his horse in the Trostle farmyard, an unlit cigar in his mouth, maintaining without apparent effort a deliberate but tautly aware frame of mind…a twelve-pound cannonball that had failed to explode came visibly lolloping, far too fast to be avoided by Dan and his mounted staff…and shattered and tore to pulp Dan’s right leg in its blue fabric…Dan was conscious of the damage, yet was not overwhelmed with pain and did not lose consciousness. Already in a heightened, feverish state from the battle he was fighting, perhaps he found it all the easier to marshal the chemicals appropriate to trauma. A captain of the 70th New York, standing nearby, nonetheless feared that the men still fighting on the Third Corps line might be affected if too many of them heard the rumor that their general had been—as it seemed—mortally wounded. The captain formed a detail of a sergeant and six soldiers, who covered Dan with a blanket and carried him to the shade of the Trostle farmhouse. This was, above all, in the hour of his wound, a moment of which the right sort of general could make a myth of his easy gallantry, and Dan managed it, his cigar still stuck between his lips by grimace or by stubbornness. When he arrived by the wall of the house, he appeared merely moderately upset and told one of the men to buckle a saddle strap tightly over the upper thigh as a tourniquet.…A stretcher arrived, Dan had an NCO light his cigar, and that was how he was carried away, cap over his eyes, cigar in mouth, hands folded on chest.42
Tremain and Randolph’s accounts appear to be the primary sources for Trudeau’s version, while Keneally also relied heavily on Tremain. Yet neither Tremain nor Randolph indicated a “jaunty” Sickles; they portrayed a badly wounded and heavily stimulated Sickles who was most worried about being taken prisoner. But as Gettysburg literature entered the twenty-first century, the image of a cigar-chomping Sickles calmly being carried off the field had fully overshadowed primary accounts. This legend may not have been invented by modern historians (we have the likes of Whitelaw Reid, William Bullard, and the 72nd New York regimental historian to thank for that), but it has been significantly perpetuated by historians and biographers who have uncritically accepted the dramatic version as being preferable to more mundane reality.43
In the end, an assessment of the “cigar incident” must consider at least one factor. If it occurred, then Sickles’ own initial accounts fail to mention it. His battlefield performance became the subject of much scrutiny, and certainly such a self-promoter would have brought attention to the fact that he took time, while badly wounded, to rally and encourage his men. “I was conscious of approaching weakness, and the last thing I remembered was designating the surgeons of my staff who should examine the wound and treat it,” Sickles admitted in one interview. Given the shock and blood loss, Sickles may not have even remembered how he acted as he was being carried off the field. In his 1882 on-site interview, before a large crowd and a newspaper reporter, a veteran actually pushed his way through the crowd and gushed, “I want to shake by the hand the man who saved the second day’s fight at Gettysburg.” Wouldn’t such a veteran have wanted to hear how Sickles used his cigar and that moment to encourage and steady his men? Only in later years, after he had time to reconsider things and speak with veterans such as Bullard, did he tell how he “placed a lighted cigar in my mouth and had myself carried down the battle line in order to talk to and encourage my men. They stood firm as a rock, and Longstreet’s charge failed.”44
There is nothing historically remarkable about whether or not Sickles relaxed with a cigar while being led to the field hospital. There are enough accounts to accept that a heavily sedated Sickles smoked a cigar or two before and after his amputation. But besides being a popular Gettysburg image, it also became the heart of his 1897 Medal of Honor citation: that he continued to “encourage his troops after being himself severely wounded,” and too many historians have repeated the notion as unchallenged fact. The primary accounts of supporters such as Tremain, Randolph, and Sickles himself question whether he was in any condition to be making “a myth of his easy gallantry.” Sickles’ own personal history—the Barton Key murder comes immediately to mind—does not suggest that he was one to remain cool under severe trauma. Shock and heavy sedation probably passed for “stoicism” in the heat of battle. Whether he was “stoic,” “jaunty,” or just heavily sedated, Sickles’ ambulance left the field amid the shower of Confederate shot and shell.45
Chapter 12
Let Me Die on the Field
Thanks to the collapse of Sickles’ front in the Peach Orchard, Wofford’s brigade moved down the Wheatfield Road. His thrust flanked Caldwell’s right and combined with Kershaw’s attack to drive Caldwell’s division out of the Wheatfield. In front of Wofford, Colonel Benjamin Humphreys’ 21st Mississippi (alone on the far right of Barksdale’s line) targeted Phillips and Bigelow’s Wheatfield Road batteries. Colonel McGilvery ordered Phillips and then Bigelow to fall back toward the Trostle farm, but as the 21st pursued Bigelow it became further isolated from the remainder of Barksdale’s brigade.1
While Barksdale’s right regiment wiped Federal artillery out of the Wheatfield Road, his three left regiments (the 13th, 17th, and 18th Mississippi) wheeled left and swung toward the last remnants of Graham’s brigade and Andrew Humphreys’ division. Fortunately for Barksdale, he received support on his own left from Brigadier General Cadmus Wilcox’s brigade, part of Richard H. Anderson’s division of A.P. Hill’s Third Corps. Barksdale and Wilcox provided one of the afternoon’s few examples where Confederate infantry managed to successfully hit the Third Corps line simultaneously from two sides. Since Longstreet had failed to significantly drive in the Federal left, Wilcox launched a frontal attack against Humphreys’ position. Although this is not what the Confederate leadership had originally hoped for, Wilcox prevented Humphreys from sending more reinforcements toward the collapsing Peach Orchard position. The upshot was that once Barksdale finished disposing of Graham’s brigade, his men turned north and together with Wilcox’s regiments combined to hit Humphreys on both his left and front.2
A short time after detaching the 73rd New York to Graham’s support, Humphreys received orders from Birney: “General Sickles having been dangerously wounded and carried from the field.” Birney wanted Humphreys to refuse his left, “form a line oblique to and in rear of the one I [Humphreys] then held.” Humphreys was informed that Birney would connect with him and “complete the line to the Round Top ridge.” The problem, as Humphreys later elaborated—he called Birney’s order “bosh”—was that he was unable to comply because Graham and the rest of Birney’s troops “passed to the rear and did not wait to swing back with my div.” Humphreys did not “see anything more of them that evening.” Graham’s collapse, coupled with Barksdale’s approach, threatened to flank Humphreys’ left.3
Lt. Francis Seeley, who was wounded while superintending his guns, recalled that “the ground was completely scoured by the projectiles from the Confederate Arty.; shells were screaming through the air and bursting in every direction!” Humphreys was under attack from portions of Wilcox’s brigade, as well as General Edward A. Perry’s Florida brigade, commanded by Colonel David Lang. The Floridians were moving eastward toward the Emmitsburg Road on Wilcox’s left. Humphreys’ problems were compounded by the fact that Sickles and Birney had earlier cannibalized Burling’s brigade and the 73rd New York away from him. This left Humphreys with perhaps 3,200 effectives. Both his flanks were in the air, and “being the only troops on the field, the enemy’s whole attention was directed to my division, which was forced back slowly, firing as they receded.” Unfortunately, the official reports penned by the participants are woefully brief on the subject. (Historian Harry Pfanz speculated that Sickles’ Excelsiors wrote little because they fought poorly.) 4
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br /> The Excelsiors’ final positions are unclear. They probably formed a line fronting south behind the Klingle house, perpendicular to the Emmitsburg Road. Barksdale’s three left regiments charged this line, and the 71st and 72nd New York seem to have fled without much of a fight. Putting as good a face on the situation as possible, brigade commander Colonel William Brewster admitted “the enemy advanced upon us in great force, pouring into us a most terrific fire of artillery and musketry, both upon our front and left flank.” Brewster’s men “returned it with great effect, and for some time held the enemy in check,” but without support and “exposed to an enfilading fire” they were “obliged to fall back…with a terrible loss of both officers and men.” A captain on General Humphreys’ staff, however, admitted the 71st and 72nd were routed, in part because Graham’s men were fleeing through their lines and encouraging the spread of panic. Another staff officer blamed Birney for After Graham’s brigade retreats, Humphreys’ division is left alone to defend against the attacking brigades of Barksdale, Wilcox, and Lang. Pressed heavily from the front and on his left, Humphreys is forced to retreat from the Emmitsburg Road position. ordering some on Humphreys’ left to retreat. As was typical in such cases, the battlefield noise, smoke, and general chaos allowed participants to blame everyone else for their own collapse. As Barksdale’s left drove toward the Trostle farm lane, it was temporarily stalled by firing from the 120th New York, which probably gave the Excelsiors’ best performance, until it too was overwhelmed on its front and right. The friction of war was beginning to tell on Barksdale’s regiments. The distance they had traveled, stout Federal resistance, and the hot July sun all combined to wear down the Mississippi formations. One Mississippi soldier recalled that the men were “faint from exhaustion.” In a Jackson-esque performance, Barksdale refused to heed the pleas of his colonels to stop and reform the men. “No! Crowd them—we have them on the run.” The combined onslaught from Barksdale, Wilcox, and Lang’s brigades finally pried Humphreys’ men away from the Emmitsburg Road. Their withdrawal officially ended the Third Corps’ occupation of Sickles’ advanced line.5
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