It was a heroic resistance. Gun after gun was abandoned to the advancing Rebels. But the cannoneers were thoughtful to retain the rammers, and though the Rebels seized the pieces they could not turn them upon the slowly-retreating handful of men, who with two pieces still growled defiance. Back to Trostle's door-yard, into the garden, halting by the barn, delivering a steady fire, they held the enemy at bay till the batteries of the Fifth Corps, a little east of Trostle's, and the arrival of reinforcements of infantry, permitted their withdrawal. More than sixty horses belonging to this one battery were killed in this brief struggle at the commencement of the battle. With the seizure of each piece the Rebels cheered, and advanced with confident expectation of driving Sickles over the ridge.
But new actors came. Barnes's division of the Fifth went down through Trostle's garden and through the grove south of the house, crossed the road, and entered the woods. The Rebels were in the ravine by Rose's house. Winslow's New York battery was in a wheat-field south of Trostle's, holding them in check, while Hazlitt's battery on Weed's Hill rained a torrent of shells from its rocky fortress.
Ayer's division of Regulars, which had been lying east of Weed's Hill, moved upon the double-quick through the woods, up to the summit. The whole scene was before them: the turmoil and commotion in the woods below,—Barnes going in and the shattered regiments of the Third Corps coming out. Some batteries were in retreat and others were taking new positions. They dashed down the hillside, became a little disorganized in crossing Plum Run, but formed again and went up the ridge among the boulders, disappeared in the woods, stayed a few minutes, and then, like a shattered wreck upon the foaming sea, came drifting to the rear.
After the battle, an officer of the Seventeenth Regulars pointed out to me the line of advance.
"We went down the hill upon the run," said he. "It was like going down into hell! The Rebels were yelling like devils. Our men were falling back. It was terrible confusion: smoke, dust, the rattle of musketry, the roaring of cannon, the bursting of shells."
The Pennsylvania Reserves, under Crawford, went in. They were fighting on their own soil. Among them were soldiers whose homes were in Gettysburg.
Sickles called upon Hancock for help. Caldwell's division went down, sweeping past Trostle's into the wheat-field, dashing through Barnes's men, who were falling back. Regiments from three corps and from eight or ten brigades were fighting promiscuously. The Rebel lines were also in confusion,—advancing, retreating, gaining, and losing.
It was like the writhing of two wrestlers. Seventy thousand men were contending for the mastery on a territory scarcely a mile square! It has been called the battle of Little Round-top, but most of the fighting at this point took place between Little Round-top on Weed's Hill and the house of Mr. Rose. But there was also a contest around and upon the hill.
The advance of Hood enveloped the Union force below. The men on Hood's extreme right skirted the base of the hill, clambered over the rocks by the "Devil's Den,"—a rocky gorge,—and began to pour into the gap between Weed's and Round-top. Vincent's and Weed's brigades were holding the hill. The Twentieth Maine, Colonel Chamberlain, was on the extreme left. The Eighty-Third Pennsylvania, Forty-Fourth New York, and Sixteenth Michigan were farther north. The Twentieth Maine stood almost alone. There began to be a dropping of bullets along the line from the Rebel skirmishers creeping into the gap, and Colonel Chamberlain saw the enemy moving past his flank. He immediately extended his own left flank by forming his men in single rank. The fight was fierce. The Rebels greatly outnumbered Chamberlain, but he had the advantage of position. He was on the crest of the hill, and at every lull in the strife his men piled the loose stones into a rude breastwork. He sent for assistance, but before the arrival of reinforcements Hood's troops had gained the eastern side of the hill, and the Twentieth Maine stood in the form of the letter U, with Rebels in front, on their flank, and in rear.
It was nearly six o'clock. I was at Meade's head-quarters. The roar of battle was louder and grew nearer. Hill was threatening the centre. A cloud of dust could be seen down the Baltimore pike. Had Stuart suddenly gained our rear? There were anxious countenances around the cottage where the flag of the Commander-in-Chief was flying. Officers gazed with their field-glasses. "It is not cavalry, but infantry," said one. "There is the flag. It is the Sixth Corps."