by Rod Gragg
Up, up they went in the growing darkness, breaking through three Federal lines—until they reached the crest. There, along with the North Carolinians from Avery’s brigade, they were blasted by loads of canister from Captain Michael Wiedrich’s 1st New York Light Artillery. The panicky Eleventh Corps troops had been rallied by their officers, and finally made a determined stand around Wiedrich’s artillery. Both sides savagely struggled over the cannon, fighting hand-to-hand with clubbed muskets, bayonets, and rocks. Finally, the Confederates pried the artillery from their Federal defenders, who fell back to the rear, leaving behind fallen battle flags.
Confederate troops from General Jubal Early’s division storm the heights of Cemetery Hill on the evening of July 2. For a fleeting moment, they broke the Federal line. It was “the high point,” said one Southerner, “of Lee’s invasion.”
Leslie’s Illustrated
There, atop Cemetery Hill, the winded Tigers looked around the corpse-strewn hill in the moonlight, searching for promised reinforcements from General Ewell—the fresh reserve troops who were expected to rush up from the rear and aid them in turning the Federal right flank. Like the North Carolinians to their left, Hays’s Louisianans were at a critical moment—“a high point, perhaps the high point, of Lee’s invasion,” concluded one Southerner. If Confederate reinforcements could have exploited the breakthrough on Cemetery Hill and poured into the rear of the Federal line, the outcome of the battle and perhaps even the fate of the war might have been decided on the night of July 2, 1863.
Reinforcements did arrive—but not the Confederate reserves Hays and his Tigers were expecting. Instead, an explosive flash of volley fire hit them from fresh Federal troops—two regiments of New Yorkers commanded by Colonel Wladimir Krzyzanowski, who had been dispatched from the west side of Cemetery Hill by General Carl Schurz. More savage, deadly close-up combat followed as Hays’s Tigers confronted these new blue-clad men, hoping to buy time until Confederate reinforcements arrived. It was not to be: Hays could see his troops were being flanked and finally gave orders to retreat. Like Avery’s North Carolinians to their left, the “Louisiana Tigers” backed down the hill in the darkness, giving up the ground they had gained with so much bloodshed. “A madder set of men I never saw,” noted an observer.
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“We . . . Found Many of the Enemy Who Had Not Fled Hiding in the Pits”
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In his official battle report, excerpted below, General Hays unemotionally described that night of horrors on Cemetery Hill.
HEADQUARTERS HAYS’ BRIGADE,
August 3, 1863.
Major: I respectfully submit the following report of the operations of the troops under my command near the city of Gettysburg. . . . A little before 8 p. m. I was ordered to advance with my own and Hoke’s brigade on my left, which had been placed for the time under my command. I immediately moved forward, and had gone but a short distance when my whole line became exposed to a most terrific fire from the enemy’s batteries from the entire range of hills in front, and to the right and left; still, both brigades advanced steadily up and over the first hill, and into a bottom at the foot of Cemetery Hill.
Here we came upon a considerable body of the enemy, and a brisk musketry fire ensued; at the same time his artillery, of which we were now within canister range, opened upon us, but owing to the darkness of the evening, now verging into night, and the deep obscurity afforded by the smoke of the firing, our exact locality could not be discovered by the enemy’s gunners, and we thus escaped what in the full light of day could have been nothing else than horrible slaughter.
Taking advantage of this, we continued to move forward until we reached the second line, behind a stone wall at the foot of a fortified hill. We passed such of the enemy who had not fled, and who were still clinging for shelter to the wall, to the rear, as prisoners. Still advancing, we came upon an abatis of fallen timber and the third line, disposed in rifle-pits. This line we broke, and, as before, found many of the enemy who had not fled hiding in the pits for protection. These I ordered to the rear as prisoners, and continued my progress to the crest of the hill.
Arriving at the summit, by a simultaneous rush from my whole line, I captured several pieces of artillery, four stand of colors, and a number of prisoners. At that time every piece of artillery which had been firing upon us was silenced.
A quiet of several minutes now ensued. Their heavy masses of infantry were heard and perfectly discerned through the increasing darkness, advancing in the direction of my position. Approaching within 100 yards, a line was discovered before us, from the whole length of which a simultaneous fire was delivered. I reserved my fire, from the uncertainty of this being a force of the enemy or of our men, as I had been cautioned to expect friends both in front, to the right, and to the left, Lieutenant-General Longstreet, Major-General Rodes, and Major-General Johnson, respectively, having been assigned to these relative positions; but after the delivery of a second and third volley, the flashing of the musketry disclosed the still-advancing line to be one of the enemy.
I then gave the order to fire; the enemy was checked for a time, but discovering another line moving up in rear of this one, and still another force in rear of that, and being beyond the reach of support, I gave the order to retire to the stone wall at the foot of the hill, which was quietly and orderly effected. From this position I subsequently fell back to a fence some 75 yards distant from the wall, and awaited the further movements of the enemy.
Forty-three-year-old Brigadier General Harry Thompson Hays walked away from a New Orleans law practice to lead Louisiana troops in the war. At Gettysburg, he led them in a desperate charge up Cemetery Hill.
Rubenstein Rare Books & Manuscript Library, Duke University
Only contemplating, however, to effect an orderly and controlled retreat before a force which I was convinced I could not hope to withstand—at all events, where I then was—I was on the point of retiring to a better position when Captain [John G.] Campbell, the brigade quartermaster, informed me that Brigadier-General Gordon was coming to my support.
I immediately dispatched an officer to hasten General Gordon with all possible speed, but this officer returning without seeing General Gordon, I went back myself, and finding General Gordon occupying the precise position in the field occupied by me when I received the order to charge the enemy on Cemetery Hill, and not advancing, I concluded that any assistance from him would be too late, and my only course was to withdraw my command. I therefore moved my brigade by the right flank, leading it around the hill, so as to escape the observation of the enemy, and conducted it to the right of my original position, then occupied, as above stated, by Gordon’s brigade. This was about 10 o’clock. I remained in this position for the night. About daybreak in the morning, I received an order from Major General Early to withdraw my command from its position....
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“The Flashing of the Musketry Disclosed the Still- Advancing Line to Be One of the Enemy”
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His name long forgotten, a Louisiana soldier wears a belt buckle adorned with Louisiana’s brown pelican state seal. Five regiments of Louisiana troops assaulted Cemetery Hill in Hays’s Brigade.
Library of Congress
I have the honor to be, very respectfully,
your obedient servant,
HARRY T. HAYS,
Brigadier-General, Commanding.7
“No, Dis Battery is Unser”
Federal Reinforcements Save Cemetery Hill
The Federal Eleventh Corps commanders, General O. O. Howard and Carl Schurz, stood atop Cemetery Hill, congratulating each other on the Federal success of July 2, when an “uproar” coming from the slopes below interrupted them: Early’s Confederates—the North Carolinians and the Louisianans of Avery’s and Hays’s brigades—were assaulting the Eleventh Corps line. Soon the scores of blue-uniformed troops came streaming uphill in panic—with Southern forces charging right behind them. Howard quickly s
ent for reinforcements, while Schurz grabbed Colonel Wladimir Krzyzanowski from nearby, and sent him and two of his New York regiments charging off to support Wiedrich’s threatened artillery.
Although battered and rattled, the Federal Eleventh Corps troops did rally, fighting stubbornly, desperately in the end. The reinforcements—Second Corps troops commanded by Colonel Samuel Carroll—arrived at exactly the right place and at exactly the right time in order to support Ricketts’s overrun battery. Along with Culp’s Hill, Cemetery Hill and the Federal right flank were saved for the Union. Years later, it was the Eleventh Corps’ rally that General Schurz would praise when he recorded his perspective of the savage struggle for Cemetery Hill.
It was already dark when we on Cemetery Hill were suddenly startled by a tremendous turmoil at Wiedrich’s and Rickett’s [sic] batteries placed on a commanding point on the right of Cemetery Hill. General Howard and I were standing together in conversation when the uproar surprised us. There could be no doubt of its meaning. The enemy was attacking the batteries on our right, and if he gained possession of them he would enfilade a large part of our line toward the south as well as the east, and command the valley between Cemetery Ridge and Culp’s Hill, where the ammunition trains were parked. The fate of the battle might hang on the repulse of this attack.
There was no time to wait for superior orders. With the consent of General Howard I took the two regiments nearest to me, ordered them to fix bayonets, and, headed by Colonel Krzyzanowski, they hurried to the threatened point at a double-quick. I accompanied them with my whole staff. Soon we found ourselves surrounded by a rushing crowd of stragglers from the already broken lines. We did our best, sword in hand, to drive them back as we went. Arrived at the batteries, we found an indescribable scene of mêlée. Some rebel infantry had scaled the breastworks and were taking possession of the guns. But the cannoneers defended themselves desperately.
Prepped for battle, a Federal artillery battery enjoys a brief moment of peace. Atop Cemetery Hill, Wiedrich’s Battery fielded three-inch ordnance rifled cannon and Ricketts’s Battery was equipped with tenpounder Parrotts.
Library of Congress
With rammers and fence rails, hand spikes and stones, they knocked down the intruders. In Wiedrich’s battery, manned by Germans from Buffalo, a rebel officer, brandishing his sword, cried out: “This battery is ours!” Whereupon a sturdy artilleryman responded: “No, dis battery is unser,” and felled him to the ground with a sponge-staff. Our infantry made a vigorous rush upon the invaders, and after a short but very spirited hand-to-hand scuffle tumbled them down the embankment.... Our line to the right, having been reinforced by Carroll’s brigade of the Second Corps, which had hurried on in good time, also succeeded in driving back the assailants with a rapid fire, and the dangerous crisis was happily ended. I could say with pride in my official report that during this perilous hour my officers and men behaved splendidly. . . .8
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“With Rammers and Fence Rails, Hand Spikes and Stones, They Knocked Down the Intruders”
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“It Was a Strange Sight to See Men Fighting in Elegantly Furnished Rooms”
Civilians Endure Urban Warfare at Gettysburg
As soldiers North and South battled each other by the tens of thousands among the fields, forests, ridges, and hills surrounding Gettysburg, warfare came to the town as well. The town’s residents found themselves caught up in urban warfare. Some fed troops or tended the wounded from both sides, and many hid in their cellars as the fighting raged on within earshot—and sometimes right before their eyes. Many lost property: fences were dismantled for firewood and breastworks, livestock was confiscated or killed, crops were destroyed, houses and barns were damaged, and dead soldiers were buried in mass graves on private property. At one house, locals counted more than a hundred bullet holes in the structure.
One civilian was accidentally shot and killed. Mary Virginia Wade—known as “Ginnie” to family and friends—had just celebrated her twentieth birthday a few weeks earlier. Her father was ill and institutionalized, and she lived in town with her mother, working as a seamstress. During the battle she went to her sister’s home on Baltimore Street, not far from Cemetery Hill, where she helped to care for her sister’s newborn. Early on the morning of July 3, as she was kneading dough to bake bread for the family, a stray bullet punched through two doors from the outside, striking young “Ginnie” in the back and killing her instantly. Wrapping her body in quilts and reportedly placing it in a new coffin intended for a Confederate officer, Ginnie was hastily buried in her sister’s backyard. By some accounts, she still had dough on her hands.
As the battle continued, Confederate troops barricaded alleys and streets and set up firing posts in town to pick off Federal officers and troops on Cemetery Hill and on Cemetery Ridge. Southern sharpshooters commandeered commercial structures such as John Rupp’s tannery and Snider’s Wagon Hotel, where they knocked holes in the walls or fired out of the windows from behind piled-up mattresses, furniture, and planking. In a Gettysburg neighborhood close to Cemetery Hill, a battalion of the 5th Alabama Infantry commanded by Major Eugene Blackford assumed firing positions inside a row of houses on July 2. The major’s brother, Captain William W. Blackford, also present at Gettysburg, came to check on his sibling. After the war, Captain Blackford would write his memoirs, including this account of the Alabama sharpshooters in action.
Sketched by soldier-artist Charles Reed from eyewitness accounts, Gettysburg civilian “Ginnie” Wade is struck by a stray bullet while kneading dough in her sister’s house.
Library of Congress
I rode through the town of Gettysburg towards our left flank and was delighted to find that my brother Eugene’s battalion of skirmishers from Rodes’ division was there. They held the range of two- and three-story brick building on Main Street on the side next to Cemetery Ridge, through the back windows of which they were keeping up an incessant firing into the enemy’s lines nearby. It was the first time I had seen warfare carried on in this way, and wishing to find my brother, I was glad to have the opportunity of examining into it. Leaving my horse in charge of the courier who accompanied me, at a place in the street somewhat sheltered from the shells which at times came tearing through the houses, I ascended a handsome stairway to the second floor. This floor along the whole block had been used in each house for parlors, sitting rooms and dining rooms, and the floor above for bedrooms, while the lower floor was occupied mostly by stores.
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“From the Windows . . . There Was Kept Up a Continuous Rattle of Musketry”
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Eugene’s men had cut passageways through the partition walls so that they could walk through the houses all the way from one cross street to the other. From the windows of the back rooms, against which were piled beds and mattresses, and through holes punched in the outside back wall, there was kept up a continuous rattle of musketry by men stripped to the waist and blackened with powder. It was a strange sight to see these men fighting in these neatly and sometimes elegantly furnished rooms, while those not on duty reclined on elegant sofas, or stretched themselves out upon handsome carpets.
I was surprised to see in some houses feathers scattered everywhere in every room, upstairs and downstairs, and found it had been done by shells bursting in feather beds on the upper floor. Pools of blood in many places marked the spots where someone had been hit and laid out on the carpets, and here and there a dead body not yet removed, and many great holes in the walls, showed where artillery had been brought to bear upon this hornets’ nest when their sting became too severe for endurance.
At Gettysburg, the fighting spilled into town. Confederate marksmen barricaded themselves in houses, and fired out the windows at nearby Federal troops. Artist Alfred Waud sketched this scene of a deserted but dangerous Gettysburg street during the fighting.
Library of Congress
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“Pools of Blood in Many Places
Marked the Spots Where Someone Had Been Laid out on the Carpets”
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I enquired for Major Blackford and was directed to a room in the middle of the block where I found him and some of his officers lolling on the sofas in a handsome parlor. On a marble table were set decanters of wine, around which were spread all sorts of delicacies taken from a sideboard in the adjoining dining room, where they had been left, in their hurry, by the inhabitants when they fled before our advance the day before. Outside could be heard the cannonade and the growl of the musketry around Cemetery Ridge, and echoing through the house the reports from the deadly rifles puffing their little clouds of light blue smoke from the back windows, while the room was pervaded by the smell of powder. After I had partaken with great relish from the refreshments, Eugene showed me over his fortress. From the back windows, by keeping duly out of sight of the watchful men in the rifle pits a short distance behind the houses, I could see all that part of the lines of the enemy. . . .9