THE GETTYSBURGH CAMPAIGN.
The rebels in Pennsylvania—Panic at Harrisburgh—Alarm at Baltimore and Washington—Sixth corps leaves Bristow Station—A surprise—General Meade takes command—Position of the army—Marching through Pennsylvania—An unprecedented march—Exciting news—Battle of Gettysburgh—Death of Reynolds—First and Eleventh corps fall back—Second day's battle—The battle-field—Fighting at Round Top—On the right—The grand onset—The battle decided—Rebel and Union wounded.
Meanwhile, great excitement prevailed at the north, especially in Maryland and Pennsylvania, on account of the invasion of the rebel army. As early as the 15th of the month, more than a thousand rebel cavalry had reached Chambersburgh, which they had sacked. Two days before, the battle of Winchester was closed. Ewell, with overwhelming numbers had fallen upon General Milroy's force, which had unwisely been, by order of somebody, thrust far away from its base, and out of the reach of reinforcements, routing the division, and in its flight capturing its artillery and a large portion of the infantry.
Nothing now opposed the march of the invaders through the Shenandoah Valley. In Harrisburgh, the excitement rose almost to a panic. All the paintings, books, papers, and other valuable articles, were removed from the capitol, packed in boxes and loaded into cars, ready to be sent off at the first sign of immediate danger. The citizens formed themselves into military companies, and worked day and night throwing up redoubts and rifle pits about the city. Men unaccustomed to manual labor vigorously plied the pick and the spade, and kept up their unwonted toil with an earnestness worthy of veteran soldiers. To add to this confusion and alarm, the trains of Milroy's division that had escaped capture were rattling through the streets in search of a resting place. Throughout the State of Pennsylvania business was suspended. The governor was calling loudly for men to rush to arms in defense of their homes; and General Couch was striving to organize the militia which presented itself.
Baltimore and Washington were like besieged cities. Stuart was threatening the Baltimore and Ohio road, and bodies of rebel cavalry had penetrated within half a dozen miles of Washington. Bells rung out the alarm, and the affrighted citizens rushed to arms. Loyal leagues were now of service, forming the nucleus of many an improvised company of defenders. All these facts we learned from the newspapers, a few stray copies of which fell within the path of the army, and from the highly colored accounts of citizens, who, with expressions of the utmost alarm and anxiety, related what they had heard or seen.
On the night of the 26th of June, the Sixth corps left Bristow Station. The darkness was intense, and a drizzling rain rendered marching disagreeable. The march was rapid, and some of the men fell behind, and were next day collected and marched off to Richmond, by the guerilla parties that constantly hung upon our flanks and rear. Before daylight we halted at Centreville. The men threw themselves upon the wet ground, and slept for two hours, while the rain beat upon them. Then, at six o'clock, they were again roused, by the order to be ready to move at once. While taking our coffee, and waiting for the final order to march, some villain, belonging to the troops stationed at Centreville, set fire to the little Episcopal chapel that stood not far from us, and was the only building remaining in the little village which pretended to any appearance of modern architecture. Those vandals who follow an army, bent on nothing but destruction, are among the unavoidable evils of war, and even the most severe discipline is insufficient to effectually arrest all mischief of the kind.
Our march was a severe one for men who had been on the road all night, and the men were glad when we bivouacked a little before dark, in a beautiful oak grove near Drainsville. Very early next morning, descending into the lovely valley of the Potomac, we reached Edwards' Ferry, where troops were crossing; after a delay of one or two hours, waiting for troops of another corps to cross the pontoon bridge, we followed, and were in Maryland again. All day long troops were passing over the bridges and taking their positions upon the neighboring hills, ready for starting anew in the morning; for nearly the whole army was crossing at this point, and as the process was necessarily slow, those who went over first waited for those behind.
On Sunday, we left Edwards' Ferry; marched through Poolesville and Barnstown to Hyattstown. A halt was made at Barnstown for dinner, and the Sixth corps left the road and occupied a pleasant valley, where the chestnut trees afforded a grateful shade for the men. They had just unslung knapsacks, when we were all startled by the sound of a church bell, which seemed in our midst. The boys gazed for a moment in mute astonishment in the direction from which the sound came, when they discovered at a short distance from them, a little church half hidden among the trees, and the parishioners gathering for service. When the first surprise was over, the word passed from one to another, "It is Sunday!" "It is Sunday!" and they set up a shout that demonstrated that they had not forgotten to love the institutions of civilization, even after so long an absence from a civilized country. Few who were present at this time, will ever forget the thrill of pleasurable surprise which we all experienced at hearing once more the sounds which so forcibly reminded us of home.
Some of the men attended the service. It was a Catholic church, a small edifice which had once been white, but, by the action of the weather for many years, it had now become brown. The seats and altar had never been painted, and the plaster of the inner wall had, in places, fallen from the lath. The parishioners seemed quite devout people, and the pastor a sincere man. In his prayers he remembered the President and the government, and he supplicated for peace. The reverend father said that, owing to the confusion in town, there would be no sermon, but he wished the good people to pray for sister A., who was at the point of death, and for the repose of the soul of brother B., who was already dead. Some of our officers engaged in a pleasant conversation with the pastor after service. He was an agreeable, shrewd man, and professed to be a good Unionist.
It was at Hyattstown that we first learned that General Hooker had been superseded, in the command of the army, by General George B. Meade. The announcement of this unexpected change at such a time, was received with astonishment, and by many with indignation. To deprive the leader of a great army of his command just upon the eve of a great battle, when, by the most brilliant marches and masterly strategy, he had thrown this army face to face with his enemy, thwarting his designs of moving upon the capital, without some offense of a grave character, was an act unheard of before in the history of warfare. It seemed, from later information regarding this extraordinary measure, that a difference had arisen between General Hooker and his superior at Washington in regard to the disposition of troops at Harper's Ferry, and that, each refusing to surrender his opinion, General Hooker was relieved. His successor demanded the same disposition on the very next day, and it was granted!
The army was not dissatisfied with the appointment of General Meade; the soldiers would as readily fight under Meade as under Hooker. They were anxious to retrieve what had been lost at Chancellorsville, and would have been glad could General Hooker have shared in the victory which they believed they were about to achieve; but the men of the Union army fought for their country and not for their leaders. So they at once transferred their hopes and their obedience to the new commander. General Meade was well known to the army as a good soldier, the brave general who had, with his single division, dashed upon the rebels at the first Fredericksburgh, and as the leader of a corps which behaved gallantly at Chancellorsville. All were willing to try him, and hoped for the best.
The movement from Fredericksburgh had been conducted with consummate skill and energy, and now the army was moving in several columns by roads nearly parallel, with the twofold object of greater rapidity of movement, and of sweeping a greater extent of country.
The Sixth corps was now upon the extreme right, marching toward Manchester; next, on our left, was the Twelfth corps, at Taneytown, a little hamlet named in honor of the chief justice of the United States, whose residence was there. At a point a dozen miles north and west of us, was the head-quarters of the army, and the Second and Third Corps. Further to the left, at Emmitsburgh, were the First, Fifth and Eleventh corps. Upon either flank of this line, extending twenty miles, was cavalry. Thus the army was guarding a great extent of country, at the same time that the different corps were within supporting distance of each other.
The rebel army under General Lee, one hundred thousand strong, occupied an equally extended line to the north and west of us, stretching from Harrisburgh through Chambersburgh and Cashtown.
At five o'clock, Monday morning, 28th, the corps marched again, passing through Monroville, New Market, Ridgeville and Mount Airy Station, halting for the night at Sam's creek. As the corps passed through Westminster on the following day, the people welcomed us with demonstrations of joy, which were all the more earnest, as the rebel cavalry had, but two hours before, taken a hasty leave of them. At night we were at Manchester, at least twenty miles from the left of the army, and between the line of march of the enemy and Baltimore. We rested here until evening of the next day. The plot was thickening, and the hostile forces were moving cautiously, each watching the movements of the other, and each ready to seize any opportunity for rushing upon its enemy to destroy it. Thus far our marches had been of most fatiguing character. We had, in the last four days, passed over one hundred miles of road. It is to be remembered that these marches were made under burning suns, and that each soldier carried with him his gun, knapsack, haversack, containing five days' provisions, and forty rounds of cartridges. The men had kept up wonderfully during this trying campaign, but the great march of all, in which this magnificent corps was to outdo all that was ever recorded of wonderful marches, was yet in store for it.
We waited at Manchester until evening. The inhabitants were well supplied with rye whisky, and it must be confessed that soldiers have a way of finding out the existence of that luxury, and of supplying themselves with it; and as the men of the old Sixth corps were in no respect behind their comrades of the other corps, many of our brave fellows became, long before dark, considerably inebriated.
At nine o'clock in the evening of the 1st of July, we were on the road, but it was eleven before we were fairly under headway. Those who during the day had indulged so freely in the rye whisky of the farmers, as to disable them from marching or even standing in line, were quietly thrown into the clumps of bushes by the roadside, and left to be gathered up by cavalry squads that were scouring the country for stragglers. Those that were left by our own provost-guards were picked up by rebel scouts.
The column now pushed rapidly on; all night the weary march was kept up. A halt of ten minutes for breakfast, and then on again. Now we heard that a part of the army, the First corps, had already engaged the enemy at Gettysburgh, with doubtful issue, and that its commander, General Reynolds, was killed.
New ardor was now kindled in the breasts of the men of the Sixth corps at these tidings, and they pressed forward at a pace unusual, even for them. The day was bright, the sun pouring scalding rays from a cloudless sky. The men strove hard to keep in the ranks, for few in that corps were willing to be left behind in a fight.
Yet some gave out from exhaustion, but even these, at a slower pace, followed the rapidly moving column.
At the houses on the roadsides, the citizens, their wives and daughters, were bringing water, from which the soldiers filled their canteens as they passed. At Littletown we saw citizens bringing the wounded from the field in their carriages, and many wounded soldiers who could walk were making their way to the village. The marching was more rapid. Our friends were waiting for us. Soon we saw above the valley that lay before us, clouds of smoke and the white puffs of bursting shells. As yet we could distinguish little of the sound of battle, but those small fleecy clouds which appeared so suddenly, flashing forked lightning, told us of work ahead. It was five o'clock when the Sixth corps arrived on the battle-field, having made an unprecedented march of thirty-four miles! We halted in reserve, not to rest, but to wait a few moments until our place should be assigned us in front. We had more marching to do! Four miles more of marching and countermarching that night, made thirty-eight miles in a single day. Such marching as had been done by the Sixth corps since leaving Bristow Station, is unparalleled in the history of armies.
The roar of battle was terrific. On our left, where rose a hill covered with timber on the top and side, a fearful struggle seemed in progress, and the roll of musketry and the rapid discharge of artillery was almost deafening.
Let us now turn back and review the operations of the First and the Eleventh corps since yesterday morning. We give it as it was related to us by members of the First and Eleventh corps. General Buford, commanding the cavalry on the left flank of the army, had advanced north of the town of Gettysburgh, and had fallen in with large bodies of cavalry, supported by infantry. He became hotly engaged with this force, and at once reported the information to General Meade that he had found the enemy in large force. General Reynolds, who, with the First corps had by this time reached Marsh creek, within easy striking distance of Gettysburgh, was directed to urge his troops forward to Gettysburgh as rapidly as possible. The corps pushed on, and reaching Gettysburgh, filed through the town, leaving it to the rear. General Buford was found fiercely struggling to maintain his position against the infantry of the enemy. At once, General Reynolds proceeded to select a position for his line of battle. Without a moment's hesitation, the corps was deployed; the division of Wadsworth, leading the van, was in position; a battery which had been brought to the front was slowly forced back, but the gallant Wadsworth, bringing more infantry into line, arrested the retreat, and in turn forced back the hostile forces, who were now found to be in large numbers. It was at this time that General Reynolds, riding forward with a few members of his staff, to inspect the field with the view of bringing the rest of his troops into favorable position, was shot through the neck, the enemy having, at the moment, opened a full volley of musketry. The noble commander, feeling the wound, turned to his soldiers and shouted, "Forward men! for God's sake, forward!" and fell, dying, into the arms of one of his companions.
This sad loss only fired the hearts of the soldiers to more desperate determination, and they rushed into line upon the run, burning to avenge their beloved leader. General Doubleday, of the Second division of the corps, was next in rank, and took command. The encounter was sharp, and the rebels were giving way. Three hundred prisoners were brought in, and the corps was put into position to hold its ground. The force of the enemy now engaged, proved to be the corps of General A. P. Hill, and the prisoners declared that the rest of the confederate army was close at hand. A column of the enemy now moved toward the left of our line, debouching from a piece of woods, and occupying a close proximity to our forces. Volley after volley was poured into the advancing column, without avail, except to stretch many of its men upon the ground, wounded and dying.
At length the brigades of Doubleday's own division were ordered to charge upon the obstinate line. They obeyed with alacrity, their cheers and shouts ringing above the roar of musketry. The rebels gave way before this impetuous charge, and several hundred more prisoners were brought in.
Thus far the First corps was victorious, but its ranks were becoming terribly thinned.
In the meantime, General Howard, with the Eleventh corps, was hastening to the assistance of the First. Just before receiving his fatal wound, General Reynolds had sent a messenger to Howard, who, with his corps, was ten miles behind, to hasten forward as rapidly as possible.
The men of that corps were burning to wipe out the unfortunate record of Chancellorsville, and the roar of artillery before them, inspired vigor in their movements and urged them forward; but the noise of the battle was heard by others.
Ewell, with his confederates, was but three miles off; and while the Unionists looked for the coming of help, a fresh corps reinforced the rebels. But the opposing forces were, for the time, willing to allow a lull in the battle. So, from ten o'clock until half-past two the First corps held the enemy at bay. By this time a division of the Eleventh corps was on the ground and another on the other side of Gettysburgh. General Howard took command. The Union reinforcements were just arriving; those of the rebels had already taken their position, and were ready for a desperate charge.
Suddenly, rushing from the cover of the woods in which they had debouched from the York road, the old corps of Stonewall Jackson, now under Ewell, charged, with yells, down upon the Eleventh. The Germans, this time stood their ground, returning with spirit, the volleys of their old antagonists.
On the left, Hill was also charging fiercely upon the First corps, and the sturdy divisions of Wadsworth and Cutler were almost destroyed.
The rebel line now overlapped that of the Union forces on either flank, and the two corps under Howard were in danger of being surrounded by the greater numbers of their adversaries. The lines began to waver under the fearful storm of lead and iron, and the order was given to fall back. The lines retired in good order until they reached the town. There, in passing through the streets, the Germans became confused and alarmed, and the retreat of the corps became a rout. Twelve hundred were taken prisoners in the streets. The First corps maintained its line of battle and held its foe at a distance in spite of the deadly fire which was decimating its ranks. The heroic Wadsworth cheered and encouraged his men by his own noble example, while the messengers of death shrieked thickly about him. On the right of the corps, Hill had already forced back the line, and now the Eleventh corps having left him, both flanks of his division were exposed. It was useless to protract the hopeless struggle, and these sturdy troops also fell back, retiring slowly and firmly, while the rebels, flushed with victory, were pouring into front and flank the most deadly fire. It was a moment of vital importance to our army and our cause. A rout of these two corps, while the remaining two-thirds of the army was separated in columns far distant from each other, must insure the destruction of each column in detail, and give to the rebels undisputed sway throughout the north. But the christian hero, whose empty sleeve testified of hard fought fields before, was still sufficient for the crisis. Halting the retreating divisions as they reached the line of hills upon the south side of the town, and selecting a ridge called Cemetery Hill for his second line of battle, he reformed his disordered ranks, and planting batteries so as to sweep the declivity in front and on right and left, awaited the onset of the victorious hosts. On they came, until half through the town, when, from the whole line of guns on the crest, burst a murderous fire, from which the assailants staggered in consternation.
The tide was turned; for now a part of Hancock's Second corps was coming up, and in half an hour the rebels retired, and the one-armed general was master of the situation. But the day had been a fearful one for the two corps.
The First corps had lost its general, loved and admired for his bravery. Hundreds from the ranks of the corps, lay beyond the village stretched in death. Of those who went into the fight in the morning, but one-half remained.
The havoc was almost as fearful in the Eleventh corps. Hundreds had been killed and a greater number captured. Yet there was no faltering among those veterans, and when, toward evening, the Third and Twelfth corps arrived upon the field, their confidence and hope rose, and all now believed that our army was yet destined to achieve a grand victory.
No further demonstrations were made on either side that night. Each party was gathering its strength for the grand conflict. Late in the evening General Meade arrived on the field, and with General Howard proceeded to inspect the ground, and make arrangements for posting the troops of the army.
The Eleventh corps was still to occupy Cemetery Hill, just opposite the town. Upon a knoll to the right of the Eleventh corps was the First corps, and still farther, and forming the extreme right of the army, was the Twelfth corps, General Slocum. On the left of Cemetery Hill, occupying the extension of the ridge and a prominent hill, Round Top, the Third corps, General Sickles, was posted, and the Second corps, General Hancock. The Fifth corps was to be held in reserve until the arrival of the Sixth corps. Thus through the night, the two armies lay upon their arms, each watching the other, to wake to a contest more fearful than the last.
At daylight Thursday morning, July 2d, the rebel skirmishers opened fire upon parts of our lines of pickets, but there was little betokening any general engagement. Occasionally a few of the skirmishers of the enemy, would make a charge upon parts of our line forcing back the pickets, but a gun from some one of our batteries would hastily send them to the rear again. Doubtless it was for the purpose of disclosing the positions of our batteries, that their dashes were made. Thus the day wore on until four o'clock.
General Sickles, with the Third corps, had moved out beyond the general line of battle nearly a mile, and had come upon the advance of the enemy, where Longstreet, with one-third of the rebel army, was concentrating his forces against the left flank, with the hope of turning it and seizing the ridge.
The battle opened at once. Seven batteries of artillery opened upon front and flank of the exposed corps, and large bodies of infantry in column by division. The corps withstood the shock heroically, and was soon strengthened by troops from the Second corps. Our artillery now opened upon the rebels from the ridge, and hurled destruction upon them. The valley was filled with bursting missiles, and the smoke rolled up in huge columns. It was at this stage of the great battle that the Sixth corps arrived on the ground, after its unparalleled march, and the Fifth corps was at once ordered into the fight. For an hour the Sixth corps was the reserve of the army, but even this reserve was soon called into action.
The writer, while our corps waited for orders, rode along the front, from where the Second and Third corps were engaged in their deadly struggle with the enemy, across Cemetery Ridge and to the hill where, on the right of the line, Slocum had established his head-quarters, and he will attempt to describe the field as he saw it.
To form a correct idea of the position of the armies, one should imagine two ranges of hills, between which was the valley and the village of Gettysburgh.
These ridges are nearly parallel, and are from a mile to a mile and a half asunder. Their course is not a direct line but curving. The ridge on which our forces are posted, bend outward and backward, so that the line is in the form of a half circle, fronting from the center, while the rebels were forced to occupy an exterior line facing towards the center.
At Gettysburgh several roads converge, first, on the right is the Baltimore turnpike, next is the road to Taneytown, and further to the left is the Emmitsburgh road. These all meet at Cemetery Hill, which is the key to the whole situation.
Cemetery Hill is in the center of a range of hills running south and west from Gettysburgh, and considerably in front of the others. Standing upon its summit, the spectator looks down upon the village, a little to his right and upon the long declivity stretching between the crest and the town.
The crest of this ridge is bristling with batteries, which are so arranged as to sweep the declivity, the valley below, and the opposite range of hills. Here, by the side of the Baltimore pike, General Howard has his head-quarters, and just in front lie long lines of infantry, who wear the crescent badge, which distinguishes the Eleventh corps.
Stretching to the left and rear, Cemetery Ridge gradually diminishes in elevation, until it reaches an abrupt peak which rises considerably above the other hills of the range. This is Round Top. It is covered with timber at its summit, its sides are rugged, and, toward the enemy, quite steep. On the north slope of Round Top, the Second and Third corps are maintaining the unequal struggle with one-third of the rebel army. The roar of musketry is awful beyond description, and the whole valley trembles with the thunder of the artillery. On the right of Cemetery Ridge is another elevation, Slocum's Hill, where the commander of the Twelfth corps sits among the huge fragments of rock, watching his own and the enemy's line in his front, and where is another battery, which from time to time is sending its screaming messengers to the hills beyond or across a little stream which winds along the right of his position.
In rear of Slocum's Hill is a little whitewashed cottage, surrounded by a picket fence. There are two or three wall tents in the yard, and many horses are tied to the fence. This is the head-quarters of the army. From this point General Meade is directing all the movements of the Union forces.
It will be seen that our troops could be sent from one point to another of the line, easily and quickly, while the rebels, who occupied the exterior of the circle, must make long circuits in order to reinforce one part of the field with troops from another. For the first time since Malvern Hill, our forces had the advantage of position.
The rebel lines which had so fiercely attacked the Third corps, steadily advanced, pouring destruction before them, while the two corps, unable to resist the weight of the advancing columns, steadily fell back. At the moment that the Sixth corps reached the field, the Fifth were rushing to the assistance of the wavering lines on Round Top.
It was a glorious spectacle, as the veteran wearers of the St. Andrew's cross rushed along the rear of the peak and among the rocks, at double-quick, and then suddenly moving by the flank, formed in line of battle. Through the woods and down the slope they rush, fall upon the advancing columns, and check their progress. The Union line now advance upon the rebels, who fall back more. Shot and shells pour in a fearful storm from the rebel batteries, sweeping the slope of Round Top and the crest of Cemetery Hill. Here, near Howard's quarters, a train of ambulances and army wagons attract the fire of the enemy, and the bursting shells soon send them hurrying through the narrow defile in the rocks through which the road passes, panic stricken. For more than two hours the desperate battle rages on the left, while the right, except that on either side artillery belches forth its thunders, is quiet. The Sixth corps, the only reserve of the army, is also put into the line on the left; only one brigade, Neill's, is sent to the right to reinforce Slocum, who has also sent a great portion of his corps to the left, and against whom the rebels are now charging. The doubtful contest ceases as darkness gathers over the battle-field, leaving the rebels still in possession of some of the ground occupied by Sickles' corps at four o'clock.
Both armies again lay upon their arms, waiting for daylight, by which to renew the contest. The losses in the Second and Third corps had been fearful, and scarcely less were those of the Fifth. From our own Sixth corps, there were many killed and wounded, but compared with these others, the loss was slight. General Sickles had been wounded early in the fight, and suffered amputation of a leg. The morning of July 3d dawned brightly, and at once the rattle of musketry told of the renewal of strife. On the right, where Slocum with a single division of his own troops and our Third brigade of Howe's division, Sixth corps, held the long line, an attempt was made to retake the rifle pits which the rebels had captured yesterday. The rebels in turn charged furiously. They had possession of some of our pits, and now they hoped to turn our flank and rout the army; but the small force replied to the desperate charge of the whole of Ewell's corps with the most stubborn resistance. Charge after charge was made, but to no avail. At length Neill's brigade passed far to the right of the rebel line, and poured an enfilading volley into the gray-coats. They, supposing that a heavy force had got on their flank withdrew, when our forces charging in turn, drove them with great loss from the rifle pits, which were held during the remainder of the engagement in spite of repeated efforts to dislodge our forces. By noon quiet prevailed along the whole line, except that now and then a shot from some of our batteries screamed across the valley, but eliciting no reply. The rebel lines could be seen moving here and there as if preparing for a desperate struggle. The men at our batteries declared that so completely had they got the range of the other crests that the rebels dare not open a piece. Little did they imagine that more than a hundred guns were concentrating just behind the little strip of woods below them.
This unwonted silence continued until about one o'clock, when suddenly, as though pandemonium had broken loose, the air was filled with the shrieks, screams, howls and clangor of bursting shells. The sky was filled with smoke, amid which flames darted in every direction, and the valley and hills quaked with the thunders of artillery. Never on this continent had been heard such cannonading as this. For two hours this storm of shell and shot raged in all its fury. At the first opening of the storm, parts of our line were forced back, but they quickly advanced again. Horses and men fell together, mangled and torn by the screaming missiles. In some of our batteries every horse was destroyed, and the men drew back the pieces by hand to save them from capture. One hundred and twenty-five guns were concentrated against our left center, which continued for two hours to belch forth death and destruction. At length, when it was supposed that our guns were silenced, and our infantry confused by the fearful cannonade, came the expected charge of infantry. Longstreet's corps, massed, with Picket's division in front, rushed forward with the well known yells, which rang above the clangor of musketry and artillery, and threw themselves with utmost fury upon the Union lines. Our men had waited the onset with unflinching courage, and now poured into the assailants a most murderous fire, which hurled them back and strewed the ground with their dead and dying. Again, with the fierceness of desperation, they rush forward, and again are met with the same deadly reception. Hundreds from the attacking columns, in order to escape the certain doom, threw down their arms and came in as prisoners. The tide of battle lulled for a time.
Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel army.
The heavy masses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness. They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points, actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires, from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.
This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with enormous losses.
No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet, notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.
In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded that he could by no possibility assume a cheerful countenance, would shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at the stoical bravery manifested by the northern troops. If one had passed along where our men were lying in rows, he would only now and then have heard a groan escape from some poor fellow who had received a bullet through the abdomen or some such fatal and painful wound. But let a group of wounded rebels be placed in some part of the hospital, and their groans were heart-rending. This contrast is not overdrawn. Every surgeon who has had opportunities to observe the difference in the bearing of wounded men of the two armies, can testify to the greater heroism of the northern soldier at such times.