The Illustrated Gettysburg Reader: An Eyewitness History of the Civil War's Greatest Battle

by Rod Gragg

  Several officers were considered, but Lincoln settled on Major General George Gordon Meade, a bewhiskered, balding forty-seven-year-old corps commander. A West Pointer who had served in the Seminole and Mexican Wars, Meade was not a standout leader or a particularly original commander, but he was experienced, capable, and disciplined. He had been seriously wounded in the Peninsula Campaign the previous summer, but he had recovered sufficiently enough to hold important commands at Fredericksburg and at Chancellorsville. Furthermore, the Army of the Potomac faced imminent battle in Pennsylvania—the general’s home state. Meade, Lincoln predicted, “will fight well on his own dunghill.”

  Normally quiet and reserved, General George Meade could at times exhibit the temper that earned him the reputation of a “damned old goggle-eyed snapping turtle.”

  Library of Congress

  Although typically reserved in nature, Meade had a white-hot temper when under pressure. “I have seen him so cross and ugly that no one dared speak to him,” one of his staff officers confided, and his troops referred to him as “a damned old goggle-eyed snapping turtle.” The official news of his promotion reached Meade at his corps headquarters tent in the middle of the night. When the officer bearing it awakened him, Meade actually thought he was being removed from command for some unbeknownst reason. Upon learning that he had received a promotion, he initially argued that he was not the best choice for the position. Finally, he agreed to take the command—with reluctance. “Well,” he stated, “I’ve been tried and condemned without a hearing, and I suppose I shall have to go to the execution.” On June 28, 1863, he issued his first order as commander of the Army of the Potomac.

  Headquarters of the Army of the Potomac

  General Order, No. 66

  June 28, 1863

  By direction of the President of the United States, I hereby assume the command of the Army of the Potomac. As a soldier, in obeying this order, an order totally unexpected and unsolicited, I have no promises or pledges to make.

  The country looks to this army to relieve it from the devastation and disgrace of a hostile invasion. Whatever fatigues and sacrifices we may be called upon to undergo, let us have in view constantly the magnitude of the interests involved, and let each man determine to do his duty, leaving to an all-controlling Providence the decision of the contest.

  Posed before his headquarters tent in polished, knee-high boots, General Meade called Pennsylvania his home, prompting President Lincoln to speculate that Meade would “fight well on his own dunghill.”

  National Archives

  It is with just diffidence that I relieve, in the command of this army, an eminent and accomplished soldier, whose name must ever appear conspicuous in the history of its achievements; but I rely upon the hearty support of my companions in arms to assist me in the discharge of the duties of the important trust which has been confided to me.

  George G. Meade, Maj.-Gen. Commanding.7

  “We Endure the Fatigues of the March Well”

  The Army of the Potomac Moves to Overtake the Enemy

  On his first day as army commander, General Meade received confirmation that the bulk of Lee’s army had crossed into Pennsylvania. Where was Lee heading? Harrisburg? Philadelphia? Or, would he turn and advance on Baltimore or even on Washington? Meade took immediate action. He organized his new staff and gave orders to get the full army moving toward Pennsylvania in pursuit of Lee’s forces. He also dispatched the provost guard and a force of cavalry to Frederick, Maryland—twenty-five miles below the Pennsylvania border. There, a lapse in military discipline had turned the army’s advance guard loose in the town bars, resulting in scores of soldiers “lying about the streets, on the doorsteps, under fences, in the mud, dead drunk....”

  The next morning, June 29, 1863, the Army of the Potomac was on the march, moving northward despite rain showers and muddy roads that slowed progress. As he pushed to overtake the invading Confederates and shield Washington, D.C., Meade’s no-nonsense discipline reduced drinking, looting, and straggling within the army. His plan was to put the army in a position to block the Confederate advance across Pennsylvania while safeguarding Washington. “My endeavor will be in my movements to hold my force well together,” he telegraphed General in Chief Halleck, “with the hope of falling upon some portion of Lee’s army in detail.”

  As they advanced northward across Maryland toward Pennsylvania, Meade’s army troops appeared to be in “fine spirits.” Among their ranks was Captain Samuel W. Fiske of the 14th Connecticut Infantry, who recorded an account of the Federal march.

  There is a deal of romance about this business of war. We lay us down at night under heaven’s glorious canopy, not knowing if at any moment the call to arms may disturb our slumbers. We wake at réveille, cook and eat our scanty breakfast, thankful if we have any to dispose of in that way. At the bugle-call, we strike tents, put on our harness and packs, and start off, not knowing our direction, the object of our march, or its extent; taking every thing on trust, and enjoying as much as possible the varied experience of each passing hour; and ready for a pic-nic or a fray, a bivouac, a skirmish, a picket, a reconnoissance, or a movement in retreat.

  Twenty-two-year-old Charles Wellington Reed, a soldier in the 9th Massachusetts Light Artillery Battery, sketched the troops of the Army of the Potomac on their march to overtake Lee’s army.

  Library of Congress

  There is no life in which there is more room for the exercise of faith than in this same soldierly life of ours,—faith in our own good right arms, and in the joint strength and confidence of military discipline; faith in the experience and watchfulness of our tried commanders (happy if they be not tried and found wanting); faith in the ultimate success of our country’s good and holy cause; faith in the overruling care and protection of Almighty Jehovah, who holdeth the movements of armies and nations, as also the smallest concerns of private individuals, in his hand.

  Our marches for the last few days have been through the most lovely country, across the State of Maryland to the east of Frederick City. There is not a finer cultivated scenery in the whole world, it seems to me; and it was almost like getting to Paradise from—another place; the getting-out of abominable, barren, ravaged Old Virginia, into fertile, smiling Maryland. It is a cruel thing to roll the terrible wave of war over such a scene of peace, plenty, and fruitfulness; but it may be that here on our own soil, and in these last sacrifices and efforts, the great struggle for the salvation of our country and our Union may successfully terminate.

  Poor Old Virginia is so bare and desolate as to be only fit for a battle-ground; but it seems that we must take our turn too, in the Northern States, of invasion, and learn something of the practical meaning of war in our own peaceful communities. I sincerely hope that the scare up in Pennsylvania isn’t going to drive all the people’s wits away, and prevent them from making a brave defense of homes, altars, and hearths.

  When I read in a paper, today, of the “chief burgess” of York pushing out eight or ten miles into the country to find somebody to surrender the city to, I own to have entertained some doubts as to the worthiness and valor of that representative of the dignity of the city. It would be well for the citizens of Pennsylvania to remember that Lee’s soldiers are only men, after all, and that their number is not absolutely limitless, and that they have not really the power of being in a great many places at the same time....

  * * *

  “Our Troops Are Making Tremendous Marches”

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  Our boys come back out of Pennsylvania with no very exalted opinion of the German inhabitants of that portion of the State we visited, or of the German regiments in our army of defenders. The people seem to be utterly apathetic as to our great national struggle, and careless of every thing but their own property. If each old farmer’s henroost and cabbage-patch could only be safe, little would he care for the fate of the country, or the success of our army....

  We of the unfortunate “grand army,”
to be sure, haven’t much reason to make large promises; but we are going to put ourselves again in the way of the Butternuts, and have great hopes of retrieving, on our own ground, our ill fortune in the last two engagements, and, by another and still more successful Antietam conflict, deserve well of our country. Our troops are making tremendous marches some of these days just past; and, if the enemy is anywhere, we shall be likely to find him and feel of him pretty soon. For sixteen days we have been on the move, and endure the fatigues of the march well.

  By summer of 1863, the Army of the Potomac was composed largely of veterans “acquainted with the ways and resources of campaigning.”

  National Archives

  There is much less straggling, and much less pillaging, than in any march of the troops that I have yet accompanied. Our men are now veterans, and acquainted with the ways and resources of campaigning. There are very few sick among us. The efficient strength, in proportion to our numbers, is vastly greater than when we were green volunteers. So the Potomac Army, reduced greatly in numbers as it has been by the expiration of the term of service of so many regiments, is still a very numerous and formidable army.8

  “Should Any Person Find This Body”

  Troops on Both Sides Prepare for What Lies Ahead

  Most soldiers in both armies were combat veterans—they had “seen the elephant,” as initiation to combat was called. By the time they neared Gettysburg, most realized a major battle was likely. “June 30 finds us at Cashtown, Penn.,” a Southern soldier noted in his journal. “Here we hourly expect a fight. The enemy being near.” With battle believed to be imminent, they prepared themselves, checking their consciences as well as their weapons. As he approached Gettysburg in a column of marching troops, one soldier noticed how the road beneath his feet was littered with playing cards. They had apparently been discarded by repentant troops. The road to war, he concluded, was paved with upturned faces—kings, queens, jacks, and jokers. Another soldier noticed the serious expressions on the faces of his fellow troops and realized it was the look of “men who are about to face death.”

  A common practice for a soldier heading into battle was to attach a scrap of paper bearing his name as well as the name and address of his next of kin to his uniform. Twenty-four-year-old Matthew Marvin, a sergeant in the 1st Minnesota Infantry, prepared for battle by folding up a wad of U.S. currency and tucking it into his leather-bound pocket diary. Then, on the diary’s inside front cover, he penciled this plea, offering to pay the stranger who found his body if he would notify Marvin’s parents of his death.

  In this sketch by Harper’s Weekly combat artist Alfred Waud, troops of the Army of the Potomac pack up and prepare to resume the march. Both armies were composed of combat veterans, and most realized what lay ahead.

  Library of Congress

  Gettyiesburg Pa

  Should any person find this on the body of a soldier on the field of battle or by the roadside they will confer a lasting favor on the parents of its owner by sending the book & pocket purse & silver finger ring on the left hand. Taking their pay for the trouble out of the Greenbacks herein inclosed.

  Mat

  To Seth Marvin, Esq, St. Charles, Kane Co. Ill.9

  Although his regiment would suffer horrible casualties at Gettysburg, Sergeant Marvin would survive—along with the message he intended as a post-mortem plea for help.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Into the Jaws of the Enemy”

  General Lee had a serious problem: most of his cavalry was missing. It was Sunday, June 28, 1863, and otherwise the invasion appeared to be progressing as Lee had hoped. Out in front, the army’s Second Corps under Lieutenant General Ewell was spread out across Pennsylvania in two columns: Major General Jubal Early’s division had passed through the city of York and was nearing the Susquehanna River, while Ewell and the rest of his corps approached Harrisburg—which Lee had ordered him to capture. In Harrisburg, state employees hurriedly packed up official records, while panicky refugees crowded city streets with overloaded wagons—brimming with “beddings, tables, chairs, their wives and children perched on the top; kettles and pails dangling beneath.” In faraway Philadelphia, scores of worried citizens frantically dug earthworks, while to the south in Baltimore, city authorities had ordered all black residents—both free and slave—to go to working digging defensive trenches.

  Meanwhile, Lee had established his tent headquarters in a grove of trees just east of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. There, and at the village of Cashtown farther to the east, he had concentrated the bulk of his army. He planned to move the army’s other two corps across Pennsylvania to join Ewell’s troops at Harrisburg. Since crossing the Potomac, however, he had not heard from General J. E. B. Stuart and the army’s cavalry. Without scouting reports from his cavalry, Lee had no reliable intelligence on the location and strength of Federal forces.

  Major General J. E. B. Stuart leads his Confederate cavalry on a raid.

  Library of Congress

  Finally, on Sunday night, a reconnaissance report arrived. A mysterious figure was escorted to Lee’s headquarters tent—a civilian spy named James Harrison, who had been hired by General Longstreet. Through Harrison, Lee learned that the Army of the Potomac was trailing the Confederate army into Pennsylvania, and that General Hooker had been replaced by General Meade. Lee knew of the new commander and respected him. “General Meade will commit no blunder in my front,” he commented, “and if I make one will make haste to take advantage of it.”

  The new information proved extremely valuable, but what would Lee do to obtain reconnaissance tomorrow—depend on a single spy? Without Stuart and the cavalry, the eyes of the army, it was as if Lee’s troops were marching blindly through enemy country.1

  “We Rode, Rode, Rode”

  General Stuart Leads Lee’s “Lost” Cavalry on a Grand Raid

  While Lee suffered from the absence of reliable intelligence, Major General J. E. B. Stuart was leading the bulk of the army’s cavalry on a grand raid around the rear of the Federal army. At age thirty, James Ewell Brown Stuart—nicknamed “Jeb” for his initials—was bright, energetic, and flamboyant. A red-bearded West Pointer from Virginia, he had fought Indians in prewar Kansas—where he had married the post commander’s daughter—and sported thigh-high cavalry boots, a yellow sash, a red-lined cape, and a plumed hat.

  In June of 1863, the Army of Northern Virginia slipped away from its lines near Fredericksburg, Virginia, and marched northward toward Pennsylvania—trailed to the east by the Army of the Potomac.

  Based on a map by Hal Jespersen, www.CWmaps.com

  Major General J. E. B. Stuart, the commander of Lee’s cavalry, here poses for a photograph attired in his customary uniform, which includes a red-lined cape, a yellow sash, thigh-high cavalry boots, and a plumed hat.

  Library of Congress

  A brilliant cavalry commander, he had experienced a meteoritic rise in Confederate service from lieutenant colonel to major general and commander of Lee’s 10,000-man cavalry division—all in the course of a single year. Under Stuart’s direction, the cavalry had become an invaluable asset to Lee’s army. Stuart had distinguished himself in the Seven Days Battles, at Second Bull Run, and at Chancellorsville, where he had discovered the weaknesses in Hooker’s troop dispositions that had led to the humiliating Federal defeat. His greatest fame arose from a series of bold raids he had conducted, including two in which he had led his cavalry entirely around the Army of the Potomac while it was under General McClellan’s command.

  Lee relied on Stuart’s cavalry as the eyes of his army, and looked upon the young officer with almost father-like affection. “I can scarcely think of him without weeping,” he would say after Stuart was killed in action in 1864. At the Battle of Brandy Station, Stuart had been taken by surprise by the enemy attack, leaving him embarrassed and highly motivated to restore his reputation. On June 25, 1863, Stuart set out with his cavalry on a raid around the rear of the Federal army. It was the kind of spec
tacular ride that had earned him glory in the past. He rode from Virginia through Maryland and deep into Pennsylvania, before Lee’s summons to rejoin the army reached him at Carlisle.

  The raid captured more than a hundred enemy wagons laden with supplies and took more than 400 prisoners, but it deprived Lee of critically needed cavalry protection and intelligence on the eve of battle. It was—in the words of a Lee aide—merely “a useless, showy parade.” Captain John Esten Cooke, Stuart’s chief of ordnance and a novelist-turned-soldier, recorded a colorful account of Stuart’s controversial raid.

  “Ho! for the Valley!” There could certainly be no doubt about the General’s meaning. He had turned his horse toward the Ridge. “Ho! for the Valley!” indicated his intended line of march; he, like myself, was going to see his good friends all in that land of lands along the Shenandoah.... General Stuart had scarcely got out of sight of the village, when he was riding rapidly eastward, in a direction precisely opposite to the Blue Ridge. The General had practised a little ruse to blind the eyes of the Cross-Roads villagers—was doubling on the track; he was going after General Hooker, then in the vicinity of Manassas, and thence—whither?