by Rod Gragg
We were now four hundred yards from the foot of Cemetery Hill, when away off to the right, nearly half a mile, there appeared in the open field a line of men at right angles with our own, a long, dark mass, dressed in blue, and coming down at a “double quick” upon the unprotected right flank of Pickett’s men, with their muskets upon “the right shoulder shift,” their battle flags dancing and fluttering in the breeze created by their own rapid motion, and their burnished bayonets glistening above their heads like forest twigs covered with sheets of sparkling ice when shaken by a blast....
As the Confederate troops advanced, their neat battle lines resembled “a perfect and magnificent parade,” a Northern officer would recall. The impressive “parade” was quickly marred by Federal artillery fire.
Library of Congress
The enemy were now seen strengthening their lines, where the blow was expected to strike, by hurrying up reserves from the right and left, the columns from opposite directions passing each other double along our front like the fingers of a man’s two hands locking together. The distance had again shortened and officers in the enemy’s lines could be distinguished by their uniforms from the privates. Then was heard that heavy thud of a muffled tread of armed men that roar and rush of tramping feet as Armistead’s column from the rear closed up behind the front line and he (the last brigadier) took command, stepped out in front with his hat uplifted on the point of his sword and led the division, now four ranks deep, rapidly and grandly across that valley of death, covered with clover as soft as a Turkish carpet.
There it was again! and again! A sound filling the air above, below, around us, like the blast through the top of a dry cedar, or the whirring sound made by the sudden flight of a flock of quail. It was grape and canister, and the column broke forward into a double-quick and rushed toward the stone wall where forty cannon were belching forth grape and canister twice and thrice a minute. A hundred yards from the stone wall the flanking party on the right, coming down on a heavy run, halted suddenly within fifty yards and poured a deadly storm of musket balls into Pickett’s men, double-quicking across their front, and under this terrible cross-fire the men reeled and staggered between falling comrades and the right came pressing down upon the center, crowding the companies into confusion. We all knew the purpose to carry the heights in front, and the mingled mass, from fifteen to thirty feet deep, rushed toward the stone wall, while a few hundred men, without orders, faced to the right and fought the flanking party there, although fifty to one, and for a time held them at bay.
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“Cannon Were Belching Forth Grape and Canister”
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Muskets were seen crossed as some fired to the right and others to the front, and the fighting was terrific,—far beyond all other experience even of Pickett’s men, who for once raised no cheer, while the welkin rang around them with the “Union triple huzza.” The old veterans saw the fearful odds against them, and other hosts gathering darker and deeper still. The time was too precious, too serious for a cheer; they buckled down to the heavy task in silence, and fought with a feeling like despair. . . . On swept the column over ground covered with dead and dying men, where the earth seemed to be on fire, the smoke dense and suffocating, the sun shut out, flames blazing on every side, friend could hardly be distinguished from foe, but the division, in the shape of an inverted V, with the point flattened, pushed forward. . . .3
“For the Honor of the Good Old North State, Forward”
Pettigrew’s Division Moves Forward on the Confederate Left
Brigadier General James Johnson Pettigrew trotted his horse up to the center of his assembled troops. On either side, soldiers in gray and butternut spread out for hundreds of yards. Pettigrew was a dashing figure—dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a long, neatly groomed goatee—and at age thirty-four, he was also a genuine intellectual. He had grown up on a prosperous North Carolina plantation, where he immersed himself in his father’s 3,000-volume library. To overcome a childhood illness, he became an accomplished boxer and fencer. A mathematics genius, he entered the University of North Carolina at age fourteen, and received an illustrious astronomy professorship at the National Observatory upon graduating. Soon bored, he became a lawyer in Charleston, South Carolina, but left that to tour Europe, mastering six languages, including Hebrew. Upon returning home, he authored a book on Spanish culture, became colonel of a militia company, served in the state legislature, and provoked controversy by opposing reopening of the slave trade—all by the age of thirty.
In Confederate service, he quickly rose to brigadier general, although he was wounded and captured at the Battle of Seven Pines. Recovered and released in a prisoner exchange, he was given command of the brigade he led to Gettysburg, where he took over Heth’s division when Heth was wounded. He too planned to ride into battle on horseback, and intended to go all the way to the enemy’s line. In front of him now, at the head of his brigade and at the center of Pettigrew’s assembled division, was Colonel James K. “Jimmie” Marshall, who at age twenty-four was the youngest front-line brigade commander in the assault force. The grandson of U.S. Supreme Court chief justice John Marshall, young Jimmie had been promoted from commander of the 52nd North Carolina Infantry to head Pettigrew’s former brigade—a Virginian leading North Carolinians. Now, as Pickett’s division advanced to their right, the troops of Pettigrew’s division were ready to go. Pettigrew looked at Marshall and stated: “Now Colonel for the Honor of the Good Old North State Forward.”
Pettigrew led his division to within yards of the Federal line on Cemetery Ridge, “guiding right” to maneuver the assault toward the clump of trees at the center of the Federal line just as Pickett’s division likewise shifted to the left. Despite displays of valor and determination aplenty, Pettigrew’s division was driven back after momentarily reaching the Federal line. Pettigrew reportedly had three horses shot from under him and suffered a wounded arm before retreating with his troops. Young Colonel “Jimmie” Marshall was shot dead off his horse with a bullet in the forehead. Raked by Federal artillery fire, struck by flanking fire from their left, and savaged by volley fire from the Federal infantry, thousands of Pettigrew’s troops fell dead or wounded. “A storm of grape and canister tore its way from man to man,” a Federal artilleryman would later recollect, “and marked its track with corpses straight down their line.” With Cemetery Ridge looming just ahead, Pettigrew’s troops were forced to retreat.
A skeleton of troops from the 26th North Carolina Infantry marched at the center of Pettigrew’s division in Marshall’s Brigade. Of the 800 men who had come to Gettysburg with the huge regiment, a mere 230 had survived the first day’s near-annihilation on McPherson’s Ridge in any condition to join the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge. Even so, troops from the 26th made it all the way to the center of the Federal line on Cemetery Ridge, despite enduring a longer assault route than other regiments. Less than a hundred returned from the charge unharmed, leaving the 26th North Carolina Infantry with the grim, unique legacy of suffering “the severest regimental loss during the war.” Two soldiers from the 26th, advancing beneath their regimental battle flag, somehow reached the stone wall near the clump of trees on Cemetery Ridge. “Come over on this side of the Lord,” a Yankee soldier called to them, and pulled them over to safety as prisoners.
Captain Thomas J. Cureton, a company commander in the 26th, was one of the few officers in the regiment who survived the first day’s fighting unharmed. Of nine captains, only Cureton and two others had escaped unscathed. Cureton would be one of a handful of officers in the regiment who would survive the first day’s fight on McPherson’s Ridge and the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge. In 1890, on the eve of the twenty-seventh anniversary of Gettysburg, he would write to his former regimental commander, Colonel John R. Lane, sharing his recollections of the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge.
Brigadier General James Johnston Pettigrew was a scholar, an author, a mathematics genius, and a self-educated military officer. He commanded t
he left side of the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge, and he too went into battle on horseback.
Southern Historical Collection, University of North Carolina
Like Pickett’s troops, Pettigrew’s division had to cross a wide-open killing field to reach the center of the Federal line. Federal artillery fire, noted a Northern soldier, “marked its track with corpses straight down their line.” Artist and bugler Charles W. Reed, who was engaged at Gettysburg, sketched the action.
Library of Congress
Charlotte, N.C., June 22, 1890
Col J.R. Lane
Dear Sir
I rec’d a letter from Col W.H.S. Burgwyn stating you were to make a speech at Pittsboro about 7th August—on the 26th Regiment at Gettysburg and as I am the only living officer (I know of) that went through both days’ engagements and Falling Waters etc from the 26th Regiment N.C.T., I decided to write you again and be more explicit, as I only wrote of the first day’s engagement and the charge of 1st July 1863, and said nothing of the Charge 3rd July. Hope you will have the speech published and send me a copy....
It was early in the morning July 3rd 1863—the writer and Capt Wagg, Company A 26th, walked forward to view the position occupied by the enemy. We saw a ridge about a mile to a mile and a half from us, a High and elevated position with a Beautiful Valley covered with grass and a long fence stretching through rather diagonally across. No trees or anything, not even a hill, to protect a charging line from artillery etc—only the long fences. The ridge we occupied was splendid for defense. “Pickett’s Division” was on our right, Pettigrew’s Brigade rested on Pickett’s left. Joe Davis’ Mississippi Brigade was on our left and (I think) Archer’s Tennessee Brigade was on Davis’ left—and Brockenbrough’s Va. on Archer’s left, but am not certain about Archer and Brockenbrough. 100 pieces of artillery lined the ridge in our front and right, which was known to our men was to open fire at 12 o’clock.
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“Our Regiment Had Been Reduced to a Skirmish Line”
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Two lines were formed in our rear which was understood was to be for our support. It was known as soon as our artillery ceased firing we were to charge. The 26th Regiment was the left Regiment of Pettigrew’s Brigade. Maj John Jones (afterwards Lt Col) commanded the 26th. Col Marshall, 52nd N.C.T. commanded the Brigade Genl Pettigrew commanded (Heth’s Division). Every precaution was taken, showing something desperate was to be done. The chaplains of “Pickett’s Division” held services—alas—ours were at the Hospital nursing the wounded and consoling the dying—from the first day’s engagement—and we had no religious consolations, only from what we could hear from Pickett’s chaplains and the singing Hymns etc. It reminded me of Bruce at Bannockburn etc.
Promptly at 12 o’clock, Genl Pendelton, Genl Lee’s chief of artillery, fired the signal gun and then 100 guns opened fire—promptly replied to by the enemy—not once can have an idea of this artillery duel. The very ground trembled under it as if an Earthquake. Tis said that it broke window glass three miles in the rear, but the guns did our line very little injury as we were protected by the Hill, etc.
As soon as the artillery ceased, Genl Pettigrew rode up to Col Marshal in front of the Brigade with the Bright Look he (Pettigrew) always wore in the Hour of danger, and said, “Now Colonel for the Honor of the Good Old North State forward.” Colonel Marshall promptly repeated the command, which was repeated by regimental commanders etc. We marched pass the valley down the Hill into the valley between the lines (with the Confederate Yell). As we marched forward our artillery would occasionally fire a shot over our heads as if to let us know we had friends in the rear. The enemy’s artillery did not open on us till we got within about a Half mile of the works.
After we got in the valley out from the trees etc, the writer looked to the right and left and as far as the eye could see on either side saw that splendid sight of a perfect line of battle. But the enemy’s artillery opened on up with Grape, Canister and such. Our lines crossed the lane in splendid order. When about two hundred yards from their works, the musketry opened on us but nothing daunted our brave men. We pressed quickly forward and when we had reached within about Forty yards of the works our regiment had been reduced to a skirmish line by the constant falling of the men at every step. But still they kept closing to the colors.
We were still pressing quickly forward when a cry came from the left and I looked and saw the right regiment of Davis’ Mississippi Brigade, our left regiment, driven from the field as chaff before a “Whirl Wind”—the entire left of the line was gone. We were then exposed to a front and enfiladed fire. What could we do. Nothing. Only retire as quickly as possible which we did. The writer and some other officers tried to form our men in the Lane where they were somewhat protected by the Road and would have succeeded but a line of the enemy had moved outside of the works to the left, and were quickly advancing down the fences, capturing every man they could find. We called the men’s attention to it and left in a hurry. Despite the warning many remained and were captured.
The writer made his way back to the artillery, selecting as the course the best and safest route, but before he reached the artillery or starting point he run up to a solitary man in front. When he looked at him it was Genl J. Johnston Pettigrew. Three (3) horses had been killed under him in the charge that day and now wounded in the arm he was making his way out on foot. I promptly asked him if I could assist him. He thanked me, offered me his unwounded arm and I assisted him up the steep little hill to the artillery. Just then two privates of Archer’s Brigade, seeing Genl Pettigrew and recognizing him as the Division Commander, Genl Pettigrew ordered me to station them (separated) in rear of the guns and tell every man of Heth’s Division to rally and form there. Our Brigade promptly rallied and formed when told where to go, but we could do nothing with “Pickett’s Men” though we appealed to them to stay and help us protect the artillery—as it had not supports—they went on to the rear.
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“We Were Then Exposed to a Front and Enfiladed Fire”
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By night we had a pretty good skirmish line and the Gallant old 26th Regiment had sixty seven muskets and three (3) officers present—on the night of July 3rd 1863—of the eight hundred and fifty carried into the fight July 1st 1863. My tale is about told. We lay behind our artillery all night and all day July 4th 1863. The enemy’s pickets communicated it to ours, or it got out some way, that Pemberton had surrendered Vicksburg Miss that day. I have never liked the 4th July since. About dark that night we commenced slowly falling back through the mountains to Hagerstown, Md.
Yours Truly
T.J. Cureton4
“Arms, Heads, Blankets, Guns and Knapsacks Were Tossed into the Air”
Federal Troops Unleash a Deadly Flank Fire against Pettigrew’s Division
From atop Cemetery Ridge, Brigadier General Alexander Hays watched the dense ranks of Pettigrew’s troops advance toward his position. Hays’s division manned the right side of the Federal center, just to the right of General Gibbon’s division. It was composed of troops from New York, Delaware, Connecticut, Ohio, Rhode Island, and New Jersey—and most of Pettigrew’s assault force was headed straight for them. Their commander, General Hays—known as “Sandy” to those close to him—had five days until his forty-fourth birthday. A burly, towering Pennsylvanian—a U.S. Congressman’s son—Hays had graduated from West Point in the same class as General Hancock, and came to be known for a personality that was alternately cheerful, affectionate, opinionated, and brash. Robust and athletic, he was a superb horseman, an expert marksman with a pistol, and he also cherished poetry, classic literature, and flowers. He was a combat veteran of the Mexican War, where he had been wounded in action and promoted for gallantry.
After a stint as a “Forty-Niner” in the California gold fields, he had worked as a civil engineer until the war led him back into the army. In less than a year and a half, he had risen from captain to brigadier general. Wounded at S
econd Bull Run, he had only recently taken command of his division—the 3rd Division of Hancock’s Second Corps—which he had affectionately dubbed his “Blue Birds” in recognition of their blue insignia. As Pettigrew’s troops steadily marched his way, Hays rode up and down his line, encouraging his troops. “Now, boys,” he shouted, “you will see some fun!” He finally dismounted and paced his line, ordering his troops to hold their fire until Pettigrew’s crowded ranks were well in range. Then, when the Southerners were no more than 200 yards away, he shouted the order: “Fire!” Many of the men in gray were hit as they were scaling the rail fences that flanked the Emmitsburg Road. The hail of volley fire sounded like “large rain drops pattering on the roof” to some of Pettigrew’s men. Recalled one North Carolinian, “The time it took to climb to the top of the fence seemed, to me, an age of suspense.”
As his “Blue Birds” poured fire into the staggering Confederate line, General Hays looked above the struggle in his front to see another thin line of Confederates approaching on his far right flank. It was the remnants of Brockenbrough’s former brigade—the Virginia troops commanded by Colonel Robert Mayo. Reduced in strength when the troops of the 22nd Virginia ran away during the Federal artillery barrage, Mayo’s Virginians had started late. Their route of attack took them within easy range of the 8th Ohio Infantry, which was posted far in front of Hays’s extreme right flank. The Ohioans, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Sawyer, savaged Mayo’s troops with a ferocious flank fire followed by a bayonet charge, which sent the Virginians reeling in retreat.