by Rod Gragg
A never-to-be-forgotten evening was the one spent at our home by the officers who were to start upon their overland trip to the South at 12 o’clock that night. General and Mrs. Johnston were of the party. Before leaving, the General said to his wife, “Come, sing me one or two of the old songs you used to sing, ‘Mary of Argyle’ and ‘Kathleen Mavourneen.’” She complied reluctantly in the presence of such an audience, saying, with deep emotion, that she felt as though her music days were over. Those songs will ever be remembered by the survivors of that mournful gathering. All were endeavoring to conceal, under smiling exteriors, hearts that were filled with sadness over the sundering of life-long ties, and doubts as to the result of their sacrifice.
The most crushed of the party was Major Armistead, who, with tears, which were contagious, streaming down his face, and hands upon Mr. Hancock’s shoulders, while looking him steadily in the eye, said, “Hancock, good-by; you can never know what this has cost me, and I hope God will strike me dead if I am ever induced to leave my native soil, should worse come to worst.” Turning to me, he placed a small satchel in my hand, requesting that it should not be opened except in the event of his death, in which case the souvenirs it contained, with the exception of a little prayer-book, intended for me, and which I still possess, should be sent to his family. On the fly-leaf of this book is the following: “Lewis A. Armistead. Trust in God and fear nothing.” At the same time he presented Mr. Hancock with a new major’s uniform, saying that “he might sometime need it. . . . ”7
“At Every Volley, the Gray Uniforms Fall Thick and Fast”
Timely Flanking Fire by a Vermont Brigade Shatters Pickett’s Right
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“‘Trust in God and Fear Nothing’”
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On Armistead’s right, Brigadier General James Lawson Kemper advanced his brigade through the swale and up toward the fences flanking the jt Emmitsburg Road. At forty, Kemper was a burly, dark-haired Virginian who sported a bushy, black, chest-length beard. Before the war, he had been the Speaker of the House in the Virginia legislature and had raised his own regiment for Confederate service. His courage in battle had quickly vaulted him from colonel to brigadier general. Now he rushed his troops through the hail of artillery fire toward the ridge ahead, ordering the “guide left” that shifted their approach to converge on the clump of trees at the center of the Federal line. Meanwhile, a calamity unraveled for Kemper’s troops: the support troops that were supposed to be following his brigade—Wilcox’s and Lang’s two brigades—had started late for some reason and were nowhere near. Kemper’s Brigade, now completely exposed on its right flank, with no other Southern troops alongside or coming up in support.
Brigadier General Lewis Armistead, commanding one of Pickett’s brigades, found himself leading an assault against Federal troops under his best friend—Major General Winfield S. Hancock.
Reminiscences of the Civil War
Up ahead to the right, meanwhile, a brigade of Federal troops from Vermont was posted out in front of the Federal far left flank, positioned there due to the lay of the land. They had been put there by Major General Abner Doubleday, who was supporting Hancock’s line with some of his First Corps troops. Doubleday thought the brigade of Vermonters might be useful on the far left flank of Hancock’s line—and he was right. The brigade commander was Brigadier General George J. Stannard. A balding, bearded, unpretentious, and no-nonsense leader, Stannard was a merchant-turned-commander who had banished drunkards and shirkers from his ranks and had shaped his brigade of nine-month volunteers into a dependable fighting force. Stannard took a look at Kemper’s advancing Confederates—completely unprotected on their right flank—and realized his troops were in a position to advance and deliver a potentially damaging flank fire into the Rebels as they charged past.
Stannard was not alone in his thinking: when the detached force from Hays’s division opened the flank fire on General Pettigrew’s left flank, General Hancock, viewing the battle from horseback, saw Pettigrew’s Confederates falling like a row of dominoes under the devastating flank fire delivered by the troops General Hays had deployed in front of his far right flank. Hancock wheeled his horse and galloped for the other side of his line, where he knew the Vermont troops were posted to the front and might be advanced to provide flanking fire. On the way, he was waved down by a frantic-looking officer, Colonel Arthur Devereux, commander of the 19th Massachusetts Infantry, one of the regiments being held in reserve to support Hancock’s line. Devereux pointed to the center of the line around the clump of trees and yelled, “They have broken through! Shall I get in there!” At the center of the line, in a swirl of smoke and movement, Hancock could see a forward surge of bodies, topped by Confederate battle flags, that was driving his troops backward. “Go at it!” he yelled, along with a blast of profanity, and raced his horse down his line toward the Vermonters.
In the distance, the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge approaches Cemetery Ridge and the targeted clump of trees at its center. Artist Edwin Forbes watched the attack from Federal lines, then sketched it from the Southern perspective.
Library of Congress
When Hancock reached Stannard’s troops, the general already had them moving. Troops from two regiments—the 13th and the 16th Vermont Infantry—advanced out of the swale where they had been posted and moved forward, staying low. Kemper’s Brigade of Confederates had crossed the Emmitsburg Road and was heading up the slope of Cemetery Ridge. As Kemper’s men rushed past just yards away, the Vermonters suddenly rose up and delivered a murderous fire into the Confederate right flank. “At this short range,” a Vermont officer would later recollect, “the Thirteenth fired 10 or 12 rounds, and the Sixteenth perhaps half that number, into a mass of men on which every bullet took effect, and many doubtless found two or three victims. The effect upon the Confederate mass was instantaneous. Its progress ceased.” As it had done on the other side of the Federal line, the fierce flanking fire toppled great ranks of men in gray and butternut like a row of falling bricks. Many of the survivors, shocked by the surprise flank fire, threw down their weapons and raised their hands.
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“‘Make Ready, Take Good Aim, Fire Low’”
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Other troops swerved away from the deadly blast on their right, leaving a mass of dead and wounded on the field, and merged with Garnett’s surviving troops heading still for the center of the Federal line on Cemetery Hill. Their advance was slowed by the deadly shock wave from their right, however, and then they were further mauled by sustained infantry fire coming from the front. Reduced to a mere few hundred in number and still led by Kemper, they breached the low stone wall south of the clump of trees and in front of field artillery manned by troops from Battery B of the 1st New York Light Artillery. “There are the guns, boys,” Kemper yelled, “Go for them!” Boldly, the Virginians surged toward the Federal cannon—and took a blast of canister directly into their ranks. With their numbers already reduced by Stannard’s Vermonters, Kemper’s troops were now too few in number to overwhelm the Federal defenders behind the wall. Kemper went down as well, shot in the spine and crippled for life. His men fell back, many of them surrendering, and Kemper’s assault was spent. As Kemper’s troops were falling back, the two tardy brigades of Confederates under Wilcox and Lang finally came up—but Stannard’s Vermonters opened fire on them and turned them back. Later, General Doubleday would say that the Vermont troops had “saved the day, and with it, the whole North....”
A half-century after Gettysburg, Private Ralph O. Sturtevant of the 13th Vermont Infantry would recount his regiment’s dramatic role in repulsing the Pickett-Pettigrew Charge.
The left flank of General Stannard’s brigade was well down on the low flat ground of Plum Run behind thick copse that lined its banks and mostly out of sight of the enemy, and therefore suffered but little from Longstreet’s artillery. The troops of the First, Second and Third corps were closely massed on and about this central position with
the Eleventh and Twelfth corps on the right and the Fifth and Sixth corps with Kilpatrick’s cavalry on the left and artillery planted over the whole field where it would be best in hand for most effective use. And all arranged and placed to make our position impregnable and secure, against the Rebel host....
It was summer, the day was perfect and all nature about seemed dressed in its richest color for the slaughter of precious lives and passage of thousands of immortal souls from that field of glory to realms beyond. Everything had been determined and nothing could prevent the carnage soon to follow. The artillery opened, concentrating its fire against the left center the salient point of which, was occupied and held by the Vermonters of General Stannard’s brigade. The tremendous roar of cannon, the crack and crash of shell, the exploding caissons here and there, the horrid whiz of shrapnel, the consternation and anxiety, all this held us prostrate and fast to the ground anxiously watching and waiting for the guns to cease firing.
We of the 13th now realized the value of the low breastworks of rails that protected us during the deadly storm.... Suddenly the cannon ceased on Cemetery Hill and from battery to battery all along our lines until every Federal gun was silent followed in a few moments with complete suspension of Confederate cannonading. We knew the time had come for the final charge and eagerly gazed and watched the crest of Seminary Ridge across the valley expecting each moment to see the long lines of gray with tilted bayonets glistening in the sunshine rapidly approaching....
We saw them first as they reached the crest of Seminary Ridge a full half mile away, at first horse and rider, then glistening bayonets and then flags and banners waving and fluttering in the sultry air could be seen. Suddenly a battery opened on Cemetery Hill with deafening roar, and sent hurling across the valley into the approaching columns the first complimentary salute that warned them that all of our guns had not been silenced by their hundred and fifty guns during the early hours of the afternoon, but on they come regardless of exploding shells hurled against them, turning not to the right or left climbing the fences and walls, quickly reached the Emmitsburg Road, passed on both sides of the Cadora House and other buildings in that locality making momentary openings in their lines as they [passed]. . . .
They crossed the road, reached the open field before them, moved rapidly forward in solid columns the first and second divisions in advance, and then the third in support in short echelon as they moved down the slope into the valley from the Emmitsburg Road. The charging columns were now in plain sight and range of our guns from Round Top to Ziegler’s Grove which with an infilad-ing [sic] fire made numerous gaps in their lines which were quickly closed, but on they came as if impelled by some unresistless force, paying no attention to the grape and canister that made gory swaths through their battle lines....
On they came regardless of the carnage among them, nearer and nearer until horse and rider, officer and private, standards and banners waving in the lead were plainly seen, and almost within musket range, the right wing now face to face with the right wing of Stannard’s brigade. Down the line of the 13th regiment comes the order from company to company, “Steady boys, hold your position, don’t fire until the word is given, keep cool, lie low till order is given to fire, make ready, take good aim, fire low.” Then like an electric flash came down the line the order from Colonel Randall quickly repeated by every officer in the line: “Fire.”
Up rose the Green Mountain Boys, 3,000 strong, as if by magic with forms erect took deliberate aim and with a simultaneous flash and roar, fired into the compact ranks of the desperate foe and again and again in quick succession until a dozen or more volleys had been discharged with deadly effect. We saw at every volley the gray uniforms fall quick and fast and the front line hesitated, moved slowly and melted away, could not advance against such a curious and steady storm of bullets in their faces and the raking fire of McGilvery’s batteries against their flank and midst this, unexpected fusillade of bullets, grape and canister they halted and quickly in good order massed in columns to our right uncovering the immediate front of Stannard’s brigade and with an awful menacing yell dashed forward with the evident purpose of carrying the crest of Cemetery Ridge at our right and rear.
The Southern breakthrough on Cemetery Ridge is marked by furious hand-to-hand combat in this work by period artist Peter F. Rothermel, who interviewed veterans for authenticity—then, for dramatic effect, depicted most troops fighting bareheaded.
Library of Congress
Pickett’s massing of columns and verging to his left and our right opened a clear field in front of Stannard’s brigade, furnishing a golden opportunity for a flank advance attack against General Pickett’s advancing battle lines.
General Stannard ordered the 13th and 16th regiments of his brigade to move forward (the 14th to remain in position in support) toward the enemy, and these two regiments, the 13th and 16th, advanced about one hundred yards in quick time.... As General Stannard looked over the field his quick eye discovered the salient angle, and like a flash of lightning came the inspired thought that evolved the famous and now historic order (unique in maneuvering in the midst of battle) “Change front forward on first company.” Colonel Randall repeated this order to Captain Lonergan of Company A and sent it along the line. Captain Lonergan on receiving the order halted his [company] which was the right of the line placed First Sergeant James B. Scully in position and quickly swung his company around into position and thus each company was brought into line facing the right flank of General Pickett’s advancing heroes and each company as it faced into line saw in their immediate front not sixty yards away General Pickett’s command charging forward up the slope and at once opened a deadly fire on their flank which surprised and disconcerted officers and rank and file alike some turned about and returned our fire but knowing their objective point moved on.
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“They Lay One upon the Other Clutched in Death”
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This was at short range and the concentrated fire of the 13th into the moving flank before them thickly covered the ground with the dead and wounded.... Not until then did they realize their awful situation, and then they waved handkerchiefs, and threw up their hands as evidence of surrender. It was at this juncture that Colonel Randall at risk of his own life from the muskets of his own regiment passed rapidly down the line and shouted “Stop firing.” Then we advanced....
As the 13th charged forward from its last position, some of the more revengeful and desperate continued to fire in our faces as we advanced. We opened fire again and then rushed up against them with bayonets, revengefully determined to slay the very last man unless they would heed our offer of surrender. Bayonets were crossed and the desperate thrusts exchanged, and the hand to hand struggle followed. Many fell wounded and bleeding pierced with bayonet, sword and pistol and musket balls. This was the final struggle and was soon over. We were now in their front and rear and escape was impossible. The crouching rose up and all the living including the slightly wounded hurriedly and anxiously passed through our ranks to the rear, turning over their guns, pistols and sabres as they passed on.
If there was any spot on that great field of battle that approximated more nearly than any other the maelstrom of destruction this was the place. They lay one upon the other clutched in death side by side. The dead dying and horribly wounded some had on the blue but nearly all wore the gray for on a few square rods one could hardly step so thickly lay the dead. A thousand could have been counted on less than two acres of ground. This was indeed the great slaughter pen on the field of Gettysburg and in it lay hundreds of the brave heroes who an hour before buoyed up with hope and ambition were being led ... as they fully believed, to victory....8
“The Two Lines Come with a Shock”
The Pickett-Pettigrew Charge Reaches a Bloody Climax on Cemetery Ridge
Even as the right flank of Pickett’s division began collapsing, General Armistead kept going. He had placed his hat on the tip of his sword—a
model 1850 U.S. foot officer’s sword—and he held it high so his troops could see him at the front. It was here near the Emmitsburg Road that Garnett—while riding back and forth on horseback and urging his troops forward—disappeared into the smoke, never to be seen again. Armistead and his men crossed the Emmitsburg Road, scaling or ducking through the fences that bordered it, and pushed forward up the slope toward the stone wall on Cemetery Ridge. In the final rush toward their target, Pickett’s advancing battle lines compressed: Armistead’s troops became mixed with Garnett’s and even some of Pettigrew’s troops coming up from the left. Up ahead, close now, loomed the clump of trees.
There—near what would become known as Gettysburg’s “Bloody Angle”—the mass of Confederates were slammed with crushing fire—point-blank blasts of canister from the Federal artillery and torrents of volley fire from the Federal infantry behind the stone wall. The spearhead of the assault came in along the wall where it was defended by three brigades of General Gibbon’s division—Brigadier General Alexander S. Webb’s brigade of Pennsylvanians, troops from Massachusetts, Maine, New York, and Minnesota under Brigadier General William Harrow, and Colonel Norman J. Hall’s brigade of troops from New York, Massachusetts, and Michigan. The Federal infantry there was supported by a battery of the 4th U.S. Artillery, which was commanded by twenty-two-year-old Lieutenant Alonzo H. Cushing. Horribly wounded in the stomach, holding in his intestines with his hand, Cushing insisted on staying with his guns. As he discharged his final blast of canister, he was killed by a bullet to the face. General Hunt, the army’s Chief of Artillery, was shouting encouragement to his artillery crews when he too went down, dumped from the saddle when his horse was hit. Unhurt but furious, Hunt jumped to his feet and opened fire on the advancing Southerners with his revolver.