CUSHING'S LAST SHOT.
The Union artillery remained silent until half the space was crossed, when it burst forth, and the Confederates went down by the score. The gaps could be seen from every point of the immense field, but those who were unhurt immediately closed up and continued their dauntless advance without a tremor. Coming still closer under the murderous artillery fire, they broke into the double-quick, and it looked as if nothing could check them.
Waiting until within a few hundred yards, the artillery and musketry blazed forth again. Through a misconception of orders, the Confederate line had become disjointed, and the supports of Pickett were repelled and a large number killed or taken prisoners, but Pickett's own division came on unfalteringly, let fly with a volley at the breastworks in front of them, and then, with their resounding yells, dashed up the crest of Cemetery Ridge and drove out the defenders at the point of the bayonet.
Immediately the hand-to-hand fighting became like that of so many tigers. Guns were clubbed, men wrestled and fought and struck with their bare fists, while a fire was converged upon the assailants of so murderous a nature that even the daring Pickett saw that every one of his men would be killed, if they remained. He gave the order to fall back, and the survivors broke into a run down the slope for their own lines.
PICKETT'S RETURN FROM HIS FAMOUS CHARGE.
"General, my noble division is swept away."
Pickett's charge ranks among the famous in modern history, and was one of the most striking incidents of the war. The double column which marched across that fire-swept field numbered 5,000 of the flower of the Confederate army. Thirty-five hundred were killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. Of the three brigade commanders, one was killed, the second mortally wounded, and the third badly hurt. One only of the fourteen field officers returned, and out of the twenty-four regimental officers, only two were unhurt. The ferocity of the charge resulted in many deaths among the Unionists, and General Hancock was painfully wounded, but refused to leave the field until the struggle was over.
And all this valor had gone for naught. The Southerners had attempted an impossible thing, and the penalty was fearful. Unspeakably depressed, General Lee saw the return of the staggering, bleeding survivors, and, riding among them, he did all he could to cheer the mute sufferers by his sympathetic words. He insisted that the failure was wholly his own fault, and that not a word of censure should be visited upon anyone else.