At 6 A.M. I rode to the field with Colonel Manning, and went
over that portion of the ground which, after a fierce contest, had been won
from the enemy yesterday evening. The dead were being buried, but great numbers
were still lying about; also many mortally wounded, for whom nothing could be
done. Amongst the latter were a number of Yankees dressed in bad imitations of
the Zouave costume. They opened their glazed eyes as I rode past in a painfully
imploring manner.
We joined Generals Lee and Longstreet's Staff: they were
reconnoitring and making preparations for renewing the attack. As we formed a
pretty large party, we often drew upon ourselves the attention of the hostile
sharpshooters, and were two or three times favoured with a shell. One of these
shells set a brick building on fire which was situated between the lines. This
building was filled with wounded, principally Yankees, who, I am afraid, must
have perished miserably in the flames. Colonel Sorrell had been slightly
wounded yesterday, but still did duty. Major Walton's horse was killed, but
there were no other casualties amongst my particular friends.
The plan of yesterday's attack seems to have been very
simple — first a heavy cannonade all along the line, followed by an advance of
Longstreet's two divisions and part of Hill's corps. In consequence of the
enemy's having been driven back some distance, Longstreet's corps (part of it)
was in a much more forward situation than yesterday. But the range of heights
to be gained was still most formidable, and evidently strongly intrenched.
The distance between the Confederate guns and the Yankee
position — i.e., between the woods crowning the opposite ridges — was at
least a mile, — quite open, gently undulating, and exposed to artillery the
whole distance. This was the ground which had to be crossed in to-day's attack.
Pickett's division, which had just come up, was to bear the brunt in
Longstreet's attack, together with Heth and Pettigrew in Hill's corps.
Pickett's division was a weak one (under 5000), owing to the absence of two
brigades.
At noon all Longstreet's dispositions were made; his troops
for attack were deployed into line, and lying down in the woods; his batteries
were ready to open. The General then dismounted and went to sleep for a short
time. The Austrian officer and I now rode off to get, if possible, into some
commanding position from whence we could see the whole thing without being
exposed to the tremendous fire which was about to commence. After riding about
for half an hour without being able to discover so desirable a situation, we
determined to make for the cupola, near Gettysburg, Ewell's headquarters. Just before
we reached the entrance to the town, the cannonade opened with a fury which
surpassed even that of yesterday.
Soon after passing through the toll-gate at the entrance of
Gettysburg, we found that we had got into a heavy cross-fire; shells both Federal
and Confederate passing over our heads with great frequency. At length two
shrapnel shells burst quite close to us, and a ball from one of them hit the
officer who was conducting us. We then turned round and changed our views with
regard to the cupola — the fire of one side being bad enough, but preferable to
that of both sides. A small boy of twelve years was riding with us at the time:
this urchin took a diabolical interest in the bursting of the shells, and
screamed with delight when he saw them take effect. I never saw this boy again,
or found out who he was. The road at Gettysburg was lined with Yankee dead, and
as they had been killed on the 1st, the poor fellows had already begun to be
very offensive. We then returned to the hill I was on yesterday. But finding
that, to see the actual fighting, it was absolutely necessary to go into the
thick of the thing, I determined to make my way to General Longstreet. It was
then about 2.30. After passing General Lee and his Staff, I rode on through the
woods in the direction in which I had left Longstreet. I soon began to meet
many wounded men returning from the front; many of them asked in piteous tones
the way to a doctor or an ambulance. The further I got, the greater became the
number of the wounded. At last I came to a perfect stream of them flocking
through the woods in numbers as great as the crowd in Oxford Street in the
middle of the day. Some were walking alone on crutches composed of two rifles,
others were supported by men less badly wounded than themselves, and others
were carried on stretchers by the ambulance corps; but in no case did I see a
sound man helping the wounded to the rear, unless he carried the red badge of
the ambulance corps. They were still under a heavy fire; the shells were
continually bringing down great limbs of trees, and carrying further
destruction amongst this melancholy procession. I saw all this in much less
time than it takes to write it, and although astonished to meet such vast
numbers of wounded, I had not seen enough to give me any idea of the
real extent of the mischief.
When I got close up to General Longstreet, I saw one of his
regiments advancing through the woods in good order; so, thinking I was just in
time to see the attack, I remarked to the General that “I wouldn't have
missed this for anything.” Longstreet was seated at the top of a snake
fence at the edge of the wood, and looking perfectly calm and imperturbed. He
replied, laughing, “The devil you
wouldn't! I would like to have missed it very much; we've attacked and been
repulsed: look there!”
For the first time I then had a view of the open space
between the two positions, and saw it covered with Confederates slowly and
sulkily returning towards us in small broken parties, under a heavy fire of
artillery. But the fire where we were was not so bad as further to the rear;
for although the air seemed alive with shell, yet the greater number burst
behind us.
The General told me that Pickett's division had succeeded in
carrying the enemy's position and capturing his guns, but after remaining there
twenty minutes, it had been forced to retire, on the retreat of Heth and
Pettigrew on its left. No person could have been more calm or self-possessed
than General Longstreet under these trying circumstances, aggravated as they
now were by the movements of the enemy, who began to show a strong disposition
to advance. I could now thoroughly appreciate the term bulldog, which I had
heard applied to him by the soldiers. Difficulties seem to make no other
impression upon him than to make him a little more savage.
Major Walton was the only officer with him when I came up — all
the rest had been put into the charge. In a few minutes Major Latrobe arrived
on foot, carrying his saddle, having just had his horse killed. Colonel Sorrell
was also in the same predicament, and Captain Goree's horse was wounded in the
mouth.
The General was making the best arrangements in his power to
resist the threatened advance, by advancing some artillery, rallying the
stragglers, &c. I remember seeing a General (Pettigrew, I think it was)* come
up to him, and report that “he was unable to bring his men up again.”
Longstreet turned upon him and replied with some sarcasm, “Very well; never
mind, then, General; just let them remain where they are: the enemy's going to
advance, and will spare you the trouble.”
He asked for something to drink: I gave him some rum out of
my silver flask, which I begged he would keep in remembrance of the occasion;
he smiled, and, to my great satisfaction, accepted the memorial. He then went
off to give some orders to M'Laws's division. Soon afterwards I joined General
Lee, who had in the meanwhile come to that part of the field on becoming aware
of the disaster. If Longstreet's conduct was admirable, that of General Lee was
perfectly sublime. He was engaged in rallying and in encouraging the broken
troops, and was riding about a little in front of the wood, quite alone — the
whole of his Staff being engaged in a similar manner further to the rear. His
face, which is always placid and cheerful, did not show signs of the slightest
disappointment, care, or annoyance; and he was addressing to every soldier he
met a few words of encouragement, such as, “All this will come right in the
end: we'll talk it over afterwards; but, in the mean time, all good men must
rally. We want all good and true men just now,” &c. He spoke to all the
wounded men that passed him, and the slightly wounded he exhorted “to bind up their
hurts and take up a musket” in this emergency. Very few failed to answer his
appeal, and I saw many badly wounded men take off their hats and cheer him. He
said to me, “This has been a sad day for us, Colonel — a sad day; but we can't
expect always to gain victories.” He was also kind enough to advise me to get
into some more sheltered position, as the shells were bursting round us with
considerable frequency.
Notwithstanding the misfortune which had so suddenly
befallen him, General Lee seemed to observe everything, however trivial. When a
mounted officer began licking his horse for shying at the bursting of a shell,
he called out, “Don't whip him, Captain; don't whip him. I've got just such
another foolish horse myself, and whipping does no good.”
I happened to see a man lying flat on his face in a small
ditch, and I remarked that I didn't think he seemed dead; this drew General
Lee's attention to the man, who commenced groaning dismally. Finding appeals to
his patriotism of no avail, General Lee had him ignominiously set on his legs
by some neighbouring gunners.
I saw General Willcox (an officer who wears a short round
jacket and a battered straw hat) come up to him, and explain, almost crying,
the state of his brigade. General Lee immediately shook hands with him and
said, cheerfully, “Never mind, General, all this has been MY fault —
it is I that have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the
best way you can.” In this manner I saw General Lee encourage and reanimate his
somewhat dispirited troops, and magnanimously take upon his own shoulders the
whole weight of the repulse. It was impossible to look at him or to listen to
him without feeling the strongest admiration, and I never saw any man fail him
except the man in the ditch.
It is difficult to exaggerate the critical state of affairs
as they appeared about this time. If the enemy or their general had shown any
enterprise, there is no saying what might have happened. General Lee and his
officers were evidently fully impressed with a sense of the situation; yet
there was much less noise, fuss, or confusion of orders than at an ordinary
field-day: the men, as they were rallied in the wood, were brought up in
detachments, and lay down quietly and coolly in the positions assigned to them.
We heard that Generals Garnett and Armistead were killed,
and General Kemper mortally wounded; also, that Pickett's division had only one
field-officer unhurt. Nearly all this slaughter took place in an open space
about one mile square, and within one hour.
At 6 P.M. we heard a long and continuous Yankee cheer, which
we at first imagined was an indication of an advance; but it turned out to be
their reception of a general officer, whom we saw riding down the line,
followed by about thirty horsemen. Soon afterwards I rode to the extreme front,
where there were four pieces of rifled cannon almost without any infantry
support. To the non-withdrawal of these guns is to be attributed the otherwise
surprising inactivity of the enemy. I was immediately surrounded by a sergeant
and about half-a-dozen gunners, who seemed in excellent spirits and full of
confidence, in spite of their exposed situation. The sergeant expressed his
ardent hope that the Yankees might have spirit enough to advance and receive
the dose he had in readiness for them. They spoke in admiration of the advance
of Pickett's division, and of the manner in which Pickett himself had led it.
When they observed General Lee they said, “We've not lost confidence in the old
man: this day's work won't do him no harm. ‘Uncle Robert’ will get us into Washington
yet; you bet he will?” &c. Whilst we were talking, the enemy's skirmishers
began to advance slowly, and several ominous sounds in quick succession told us
that we were attracting their attention, and that it was necessary to break up
the conclave. I therefore turned round and took leave of these cheery and
plucky gunners.
At 7 P.M., General Lee received a report that Johnson's
division of Ewell's corps had been successful on the left, and had gained
important advantages there. Firing entirely ceased in our front about this
time; but we now heard some brisk musketry on our right, which I afterwards
learned proceeded from Hood's Texans, who had managed to surround some
enterprising Yankee cavalry, and were slaughtering them with great
satisfaction. Only eighteen out of four hundred are said to have escaped.
At 7.30, all idea of a Yankee attack being over, I rode back
to Moses's tent, and found that worthy commissary in very low spirits, all
sorts of exaggerated rumours having reached him. On my way I met a great many
wounded men, most anxious to inquire after Longstreet, who was reported killed;
when I assured them he was quite well, they seemed to forget their own pain in
the evident pleasure they felt in the safety of their chief. No words that I
can use will adequately express the extraordinary patience and fortitude with
which the wounded Confederates bore their sufferings.
I got something to eat with the doctors at 10 P.M., the
first for fifteen hours.
I gave up my horse to-day to his owner, as from death and
exhaustion the Staff are almost without horses.
_______________
* This officer was afterwards killed at the passage of the
Potomac.
SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three
Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 268-78
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