Longstreet was the chosen leader and central figure in every great conflict from the first battle of Manassas to the fateful day at Appomattox.
Sparta never had a worthier son than the South had in General Longstreet. From the firing of the first gun his ardor never ceased, his courage never failed. Often in the midst of the greatest battle did he stand with his men when they fell around him like forests in a storm. His presence was inspiring, and his word talismanic. No soldier was ever more loved or confided in than he. Who shall say that his name shall not emblazon the brightest page of our history? Who will deny him that great praise, so justly his own by reason of his great services and terrible suffering? History will be incomplete without according him her brightest page; and as long as we live to recount deeds of valor and heroism on the battle-field, will live the names of Lee, Longstreet, and “Stonewall” Jackson. Who that was at Gettysburg, Spottsylvania, and the Wilderness, when the earth rocked with the tramp of armed men and the roar of battle resounded almost to heaven, would deny him this mead of praise?
In all these was General Longstreet a prime warrior, a conspicuous actor. He rarely, if ever, was defeated. He planned his marches, battles, and retreats with a strategy little less than transcendent; and when he made a stand he placed his back to the rock and bid defiance to his enemies.
He was to Lee what Ney was to Napoleon, a guide, a friend, and a confidant.
I cannot pass this occasion without recalling an incident at the Wilderness. On the 5th day of May, 1864, General Grant had devastated the entire country from the Rapidan River to Fredericksburg. His soldiers were as numerous as the Assyrian hosts. Hancock’s corps had advanced to the west side of the plank road that ran through that dismal swamp, and had driven both Pendor and Heath out of their breastworks, thus breaking through the centre of our line of battle. It was an awful hour—fear and despair could be seen in every face. In vain did Heath and Pendor try to repossess their works.
Just at that moment Longstreet arrived on the ground. Hood’s Texans were in front. Lee came in a gallop to meet them. With tears in his eyes and his long hair flying in the wind, he asked, “What troops are these?” “Hood’s Texans,” was the reply. “Follow me!” he said. When he started to lead them, a Texan belonging to the First Texas Regiment, commanded by Colonel J. R. Harding, now of Jackson, Mississippi, caught the bridle of General Lee’s horse and turned him back. Away went the Texans followed by the Mississippi, Arkansas, Alabama, and Louisiana brigades, and drove the enemy back and saved the day. This was but one of the glorious acts of General Longstreet.
Cold Harbor, Seven Pines, Gaines Mill, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg are not less glorious than others named, and all made so by the energy and courage of Longstreet and his faithful soldiers. At the battle of Sharpsburg for a long time our army was threatened with defeat; our lines began to waver before the terrible fire of the superior numbers with which we were contending, when General Longstreet, just from a hot contest on our left, was brought around to the centre, and for six long hours he repelled the assailants of this numerous host and “kept the executives at bay and drove back the Mamalukes of power.” Forget him? No! The names of Lee and Longstreet will live as those of Cæsar and Napoleon, and when this physical world shall have perished, and the heavens rolled together as a scroll, the names of these men will be remembered.
Resolved, That in the death of General Longstreet the South has lost one of her most brilliant soldiers.
Resolved, That in battles his name was a synonym of success, and his presence an inspiration to his men, a terror to his enemies.
Resolved, That the Camp wear the usual badge for thirty days and a copy of this paper be sent to his family at Gainesville, Georgia.