Official Reports: The Gettysburg Campaign, June3 – August 1,1863: No. 441. Report of Maj. Charles S. Peyton, Nineteenth Virginia Infantry, commanding Garnett's brigade, Pickett's division.

No. 441.

Report of Maj. Charles S. Peyton, Nineteenth Virginia Infantry,

commanding Garnett's brigade, Pickett's division.

CAMP NEAR WILLIAMSPORT, MD., July 9, 1863.

MAJOR: In compliance with instructions from division headquarters, I have the honor to report the part taken by this brigade in the late battle near Gettysburg, Pa., July 3.

Notwithstanding the long and severe marches made by the troops of this brigade, they reached the field about 9 a.m.. in high spirits and in good condition. At about 12 m. we were ordered to take position behind the crest of the hill on which the artillery, under Colonel [E. Porter] Alexander, was planted, where we lay during a most terrific cannonading, which opened at 1.30 p.m., and was kept up without intermission for one hour.

During the shelling, we lost about 20 killed and wounded. Among the killed was Lieutenant-Colonel [John T.] Ellis, of the Nineteenth Virginia, whose bravery as a soldier, and his innocence, purity, and integrity as a Christian, have not only elicited the admiration of his own command, but endeared him to all who knew him.

At 2.30 p.m., the artillery fire having to some extent abated, the order to advance was given, first by Major-General Pickett in person, and repeated by General Garnett with promptness, apparent cheerfulness, and alacrity. The brigade moved forward at quick time. The ground was open, but little broken, and from 800 to 1,000 yards from the crest whence we started to the enemy's line. The brigade moved in good order, keeping up its line almost perfectly, notwithstanding it had to climb three high post and rail fences, behind the last of which the enemy's skirmishers were first met and immediately driven in. Moving on, we soon met the advance line of the enemy, lying concealed in the grass on the slope, about 100 yards in front of his second line, which consisted of a stone wall about breast-high, running nearly parallel to and about 30 paces from the crest of the hill, which was lined with their artillery.

The first line referred to above, after offering some resistance, was completely routed, and driven in confusion back to the stone wall. Here we captured some prisoners, which were ordered to the rear without a guard. Having routed the enemy here, General Garnett ordered the brigade forward, which it promptly obeyed, loading and firing as it advanced.

Up to this time we had suffered but little from the enemy's batteries, which apparently had been much crippled previous to our advance, with the exception of one posted on the mountain, about 1 mile to our right, which enfiladed nearly our entire line with fearful effect, sometimes as many as 10 men being killed and wounded by the bursting of a single shell. From the point it had first routed the enemy, the brigade moved rapidly forward toward the stone wall, under a galling fire both from artillery and infantry, the artillery using grape and canister. We were now within about 75 paces of the wall, unsupported on the right and left, General Kemper being some 50 or 60 yards behind and to the right, and General Armistead coming up in our rear.

General Kemper's line was discovered to be lapping on ours, when, deeming it advisable to have the line extended on the right to prevent being flanked, a staff officer rode back to the general to request him to incline to the right. General Kemper not being present (perhaps wounded at the time), Captain [W. T.] Fry, of his staff, immediately began his exertions to carry out the request, but, in consequence of the eagerness of the men in pressing forward, it was impossible to have the order carried out.

Our line, much shattered, still kept up the advance until within about 20 paces of the wall, when, for a moment, it recoiled under the terrific fire that poured into our ranks both from their batteries and from their sheltered infantry. At this moment, General Kemper came up on the right and General Armistead in rear, when the three lines, joining in concert, rushed forward with unyielding determination and an apparent spirit of laudable rivalry to plant the Southern banner on the walls of the enemy. His strongest and last line was instantly gained; the Confederate battle-flag waved over his defenses, and the fighting over the wall became hand to hand, and of the most desperate character; but more than half having already fallen, our line was found too weak to rout the enemy. We hoped for a support on the left (which had started simultaneously with ourselves), out hoped in vain. Yet a small remnant remained in desperate struggle, receiving a fire in front, on the right, and on the left, many even climbing over the wall, and fighting the enemy in his own trenches until entirely surrounded; and those who were not killed or wounded were captured, with the exception of about 300 who came off slowly, but greatly scattered, the identity of every regiment being entirely lost, and every regimental commander killed or wounded.

The brigade went into action with 1,287 men and about 140 officers, as shown by the report of the previous evening, and sustained a loss, as the list of casualties will show, of 941 killed, wounded, and missing, and it is feared, from all the information received, that the majority (those reported missing) are either killed or wounded.

It is needless, perhaps, to speak of conspicuous gallantry where all behaved so well. Each and every regimental commander displayed a cool bravery and daring that not only encouraged their own commands, but won the highest admiration from all those who saw them. They led their regiments in the fight, and showed, by their conduct, that they only desired their men to follow where they were willing to lead. But of our cool, gallant, noble brigade commander it may not be out of place to speak. Never had the brigade been better handled, and never has it done better service in the field of battle. There was scarcely an officer or man in the command whose attention was not attracted by the cool and handsome bearing of General Garnett, who, totally devoid of excitement or rashness, rode immediately in rear of his advancing line, endeavoring by his personal efforts, and by the aid of his staff, to keep his line well closed and dressed. He was shot from his horse while near the center of the brigade, within about 25 paces of the stone wall. This gallant officer was too well known to need further mention.

Captain [C. F.] Linthicum, assistant adjutant-general, Lieutenant [John S.] Jones, aide-de-camp, and Lieutenant Harrison, acting aide-de-camp, did their whole duty, and won the admiration of the entire command by their gallant bearing on the field while carrying orders from one portion of the line to the other, where it seemed almost impossible for any one to escape.

The conduct of Captain [Michael P.] Spessard, of the Twenty-eighth Virginia, was particularly conspicuous. His son fell, mortally wounded, at his side; he stopped but for a moment to look on his dying son, gave him his canteen of water, and pressed on, with his company, to the wall, which he climbed, and fought the enemy with his sword in their own trenches until his sword was wrested from his hands by two Yankees; he finally made his escape in safety.

In making the above report, I have endeavored to be as accurate as possible, but have had to rely mainly for information on others, whose position gave them better opportunity for witnessing the conduct of the entire brigade than I could have, being with, and paying my attention to, my own regiment.

I am, major, with great respect, your obedient servant,

[CHAS. S. PEYTON,]

Major, Commanding.

 Maj. C. PICKETT,

            Asst. Adjt. Gen., Pickett's Division.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 27, Part 2 (Serial No. 44), p. 385-7

Major-General George G. Meade to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, July 3, 1863 – 8:35 p.m.

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF THE POTOMAC,            

Near Gettysburg, July 3, 1863 — 8.35 p.m.  

(Received July 4, 6.10 a.m.)

Major-General HALLECK,

General-in-Chief:

The enemy opened at 1 p.m. from about 150 guns, concentrated upon my left and center, continuing without intermission for about three hours, at the expiration of which time he assaulted my left center twice, being upon both occasions handsomely repulsed, with severe loss to him, leaving in our hands nearly 3,000 prisoners; among the prisoners, Brigadier-General Armistead and many colonels and officers of lesser rank. The enemy left many dead upon the field and a large number of wounded in our hands.

The loss upon our side has been considerable. Major-General Hancock and Brigadier-General Gibbon were wounded. After the repelling of the assault, indications leading to the belief that the enemy might be withdrawing, an armed reconnaissance was pushed forward from the left, and the enemy found to be in force. At the present hour all is quiet. My cavalry have been engaged all day on both flanks of the enemy, harassing and vigorously attacking him with great success, notwithstanding they encountered superior numbers, both of cavalry and infantry. The army is in fine spirits.

GEO. G. MEADE,    

Major-General, Commanding.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 27, Part 1 (Serial No. 43), p. 74-5

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Friday, July 3, 1863

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

Diary of Judith W. McGuire, Saturday, July 11, 1863

Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th of July. The terms of capitulation seem marvellously generous for such a foe. What can the meaning be?

General Lee has had a most bloody battle near Gettysburg. Our loss was fearful. We have heard of no casualties except in general officers. General Richard Garnett, our friend and connection, has yielded up his brave spirit on a foreign field. He was shot through the head while standing on the fortifications, encouraging his men and waving them on to the fight. How my heart bleeds to think of his hoary-headed father, of whom he was the stay! General Barksdale, of Mississippi, is another martyr. Also General Armstead, of Virginia. Generals Kemper and Pender wounded. I dread to hear of others. Who of our nearest kin may have ceased to live? When I think of probabilities and possibilities, I am almost crazy. Some of our men are reported wounded and in the enemy's hands. They took many prisoners. The cars are rushing up and down with soldiers. Two trains with pontoons have gone up within the last two days. What does it all portend?

SOURCE: McGuire, Judith W., Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 229

Brig.-Gen. Lewis A. Armistead

Lewis Addison Armistead, the gallant and lamented officer (of whom this is a brief biographical memoir, attached to the record of the brigade he first organized) and commanded up to the moment of his death), was born in Newbern, N. C., on February 18, 1817.

He was the son of Gen. Walker K. Armistead, of the United States Army, a native of Virginia, and Elizabeth, daughter of Hon. John A. Stanley of N. C.

He was entered as a cadet at the United States Military Academy at West Point, but on account of some youthful escapade (I have been told, the partial cracking of Jubal A. Early's head with a mess-hall plate), he was retired from that Institution before graduation. He was appointed Second Lieut, in the United States Army, from citizen's life in June, 1839, and assigned to the 6th Regiment of Infantry (commanded at that time by Gen. Zachary Taylor, who afterwards became the distinguished Mexican hero, and President of the United States). He served during the latter part of the Florida war, under his father, Gen. W. K. Armistead, and was promoted First Lieut, by President Tyler, to rank as such from March 30, 1844. He joined Gen. Scott, in Mexico, at the siege of Vera Cruz, was breveted Captain for gallant and meritorious conduct at the battles of Contreras and Churubusco; afterwards was breveted Major for gallant and meritorious conduct at the battle of Molino del Rey. These brevets were conferred by President Polk. March 3, 1855, he was commissioned Captain in the 6th Infantry by President Pierce. Early in 1861, he resigned his commission in the United States Army, and in company with Gen. Albert Sidney Johnson and other officers of that army, who had also resigned, crossed the plains, and offered his services to the State of Virginia. He was soon commissioned Colonel and given command of the 57th Regiment of Virginia Infantry. In April, 1862, he was commissioned by President Jeff. Davis Brig.-Gen. in the provisional army of the Confederate States; and set to the organization of a brigade of infantry. This brigade was composed of the 57th, 53d, and 14th Virginia Regiments and 3d Georgia Regiment; subsequently the 3d Georgia was exchanged for the 38th Virginia, and the 9th Virginia added to the brigade. This brigade, known as Armistead's, was assigned to Huger's Division of Longstreet's 1st Army Corps. Gen. Armistead was first engaged with his brigade (or a portion of it rather) at the second day's fight of Seven Pines, June 1, 1862, where he personally distinguished himself for extreme gallantry.

He next commanded his brigade at the battle of Malvern Hill, where it was heavily engaged, and where he again displayed his usual gallantry, and did signal service. He commanded his brigade throughout the first Maryland campaign, and in September, 1862, on the return of the army to Culpepper Court-House, Va., he was assigned with his brigade to Pickett's Division of Longstreet's Corps, and remained with that command up to the time of his death, taking part in all its actions. As a firm disciplinarian and executive officer, in addition to his high qualities for personal courage and judgment, he had no superior in the service. He conspicuously led his brigade in the celebrated charge of Pickett's Men at Gettysburg; advancing in front of his line, waving his hat upon the point of his sabre, and cheering his men on, when he was shot down after having taken the first line and guns of the enemy. He was found mortally wounded among the foremost ranks of the dead and dying, taken charge of by Maj.-Gen. Hancock, his old companion in arms of the United States Army, and sent to the 11th Corps hospital at Gettysburg, where he died of his wounds on the following day. Fallen, a noble soldier in his harness, he lies near the field of his honor and glory; buried with the speedy shrift of the times of war, but his memory ever preserved with those who knew him well—as the brave soul, the kind heart, the cheerful temper he always was.

Gen. Armistead was a widower; and was killed, leaving only one child — a son — who, although quite a youth at the time, was his father's aide-de-camp — W. Keith Armistead.

SOURCE: Walter Harrison, Pickett’s Men: A Fragment of War History, p. 33-5