Gettysburg (66 page)

Tactical control of Rodes’ front was in the hands of Brigadier General Stephen D. Ramseur, another aggressive officer who nonetheless paled when he saw the strength of the enemy defenses. While some of his skirmishers scrapped with their opposite numbers, Ramseur enlisted the help of another of Rodes’ brigadiers, George Dole, to persuade their division commander that the Federal position had not been weakened, and that the attacks by Ewell’s Corps had not broken through the enemy’s line. These arguments, plus the darkness, as Rodes later reported, “convinced me that it would be a useless sacrifice of life to go on, and a recall was ordered.”

There would be no reinforcements this night for the Louisiana and North Carolina troops still battling on eastern Cemetery Hill.

On the lower summit of Culp’s Hill, David Ireland continued his high-stakes combat against several regiments from George Steuart’s brigade. The Virginians sent by Steuart to flank the short refused segment of Ireland’s line got in position and began firing into the flank and rear of the 137th New York. In response, Ireland took the bold step of pivoting his men on the right flank of the next regiment in line, the 149th New York, and occupying the emergency traverse, facing south. Carrying out this maneuver in the dark and under enemy fire required nerve and discipline, but the New Yorkers managed it. There were moments of confusion as portions of the 149th wondered if a general retreat was under way, but their colonel rallied his men with “a brief and patriotic speech.”

Here and there, violent melees erupted as parties of Confederates worked in close to Ireland’s line. To help relieve the pressure, Captain Joseph H. Gregg led a squad from the 137th in a bayonet charge against the 10th Virginia. The sudden thrust accomplished its purpose, but at the cost of the brave captain, who fell with a mortal wound. Then welcome help arrived in the form of several regiments that had already paid a high price at Gettysburg, including the 6th Wisconsin, 14th Brooklyn, and 157th New York. The steady cascade of musketry from the upper summit never slackened, and after the bloody collapse of several efforts to launch a coordinated attack, the units of Jones’ and Nicholls’ Brigades called it quits. Not so much under positive orders as out of pure exhaustion, the Virginia and Louisiana regiments sagged backward a short distance, their offensive energies spent. Farther out on Johnson’s left, George Steuart broke contact with the enemy line but kept a careful hold on the trenches his men had occupied. The fighting on Culp’s Hill was over—for the moment.

The combat on eastern Cemetery Hill continued because the Confederates who tenuously held several Federal batteries felt their best chance of survival lay in maintaining the fight. In the darkness, their modest numbers were magnified, leading some Federals to believe that a great force was in their midst—though many postbattle Confederate reports would veer the other way, suggesting that those gathered along the crest were a mere handful. Either way, they could not be allowed to remain.

The barely organized Rebel units were hit on both flanks by Federal counterattacks that managed to strike at almost the same time. A Tarheel
on the hill recalled that “it was soon so dark and [there was] so much smoke that we couldent see what we was a doing.” Several Eleventh Corps regiments, led in person by Carl Schurz, drove hard into the northern section holding Wiedrich’s battery. “Our infantry made a vigorous rush upon the invaders,” wrote an Eleventh Corps man, “and after a short but spirited hand-to-hand scuffle tumbled them down the embankment.”

On the southern end of the artillery row, the Rebel soldiers were attacked by Samuel Carroll’s brigade, sent over by Winfield Hancock on the presumption that it would be needed. Carroll was something of a reckless fighter, a good man to have on hand in a situation like this. An Ohio sergeant recollected the orders Carroll gave: “‘Halt! Front face!

Charge bayonets! Forward, double-quick! March! Give them ——!’” The Second Corps ranks flooded into the contested gun pits. “At Rickett’s Battery a tremendous struggle took place,” remembered a West Virginia soldier. “It was a man to man, hand to hand fight.”

Courage and determination could not offset superior numbers and fresh troops. With no help coming and enemy units swarming around them, all those Rebels who were still under some command and control began falling back. The various units, such as they were, retreated to the bottom of the hill, retaining places along portions of the Brickyard Lane’s stone wall for long enough to round up stragglers before returning to Winebrenner’s Run. Atop the contested hill, Andrew Harris and other officers now set their men to humanitarian tasks. “We gathered up the dead and cared for the wounded of both friend and foe,” the Second Brigade’s colonel would later report.

O
n the southern side of Little Round Top, Joshua Chamberlain returned from a meeting with James Rice, the acting brigade commander, not knowing what to say to his men. The day’s news was bad enough already: in addition to Strong Vincent, the list of dead or mortally wounded officers included Patrick O’Rorke of the 140th New York, his brigade commander, Stephen Weed, and the artillery officer who had placed his battery atop the hill, Charles Hazlett. But that was not what was occupying Chamberlain’s thoughts, because this was war, after all, and casualties were to be expected.

Instead, what Chamberlain was pondering was this: Rice had informed him that he had tried and failed to convince Colonel Joseph Fisher to use his brigade of Pennsylvania Reserves to occupy Big Round Top. Nobody knew how many Rebels were on the higher hill, but everyone realized that the Federals could not relax their guard until someone found out. Rice wanted Chamberlain to do it.

Ambition was a part of Chamberlain’s personality, so he accepted the mission without hesitation. Walking back to his combat-weary regiment, now numbering perhaps 200 men, he wondered how he would break the news to his troops. He decided to tap their patriotism and pride by calling for the regimental colors and then announcing, “Boys, I am asked if we can carry that hill in front.” It proved to be an effective approach: answering the call, the entire regiment formed quickly for the advance.

The thin line eased cautiously into the saddle between the hills, then began moving up the steep slope. The Maine soldiers met a scattering fire from nervous Confederate pickets, who fortunately fired high as they shot downhill. Finally, Chamberlain’s line reached the top. The next minutes were filled with dry mouths and palpitating fear as the soldiers grouped into a defensive position, sent out patrols, and took some prisoners, fully expecting the darkness to explode with gunfire at any moment.

Hardly had the men of the 20th Maine settled uneasily into their position on Big Round Top when some of the reluctant Pennsylvania Reserves made a noisy effort to join them, only to be frightened off by unaimed enemy fire. Deciding that a little prudence was in order, Chamberlain set up a strong skirmish line on the crest, then pulled the rest of his regiment back toward Little Round Top pending the arrival of some more dependable support. Only after the 83rd Pennsylvania and 44th New York came up did Chamberlain return to Big Round Top.
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According to the British observer Arthur Fremantle, in all the hours of fighting along the whole Union line, Robert E. Lee “only sent one message, and only received one report.” An artilleryman posted nearby observed that throughout the late afternoon, Lee’s “countenance betrayed no more anxiety than upon the occasion of a general review.” After the firing died down, Fremantle and newspaperman Francis Lawley headed back to Longstreet’s headquarters. Lee likely returned to his own headquarters along the Chambersburg Pike, where information now began coming in.

To Lee’s way of thinking, little of what he heard was bad news. It was true that his men had nowhere achieved the kind of breakthrough he was hoping for, but neither had they ended the day empty-handed. “Longstreet succeeded in getting possession of and holding the desired ground [along the Emmitsburg Road],” Lee later reported, adding that “Ewell also carried some of the strong positions which he assailed.”

Ticking off the plus marks, Lee could now count on Stuart’s cavalry, and he had a fresh infantry division on hand in the form of George E. Pickett’s command. Apparently, very little was conveyed to him regarding the condition of the units engaged this day. While the names of prominent officers known to be missing, dead, or wounded were quickly passed along, details regarding the combat efficiency of the brigades fighting this day were not available. None of Lee’s principal staff recorded any visits to the commands of Ewell or Longstreet this night. Given the nearly miraculous recuperative powers that Lee’s soldiers had demonstrated on past
occasions, he and his senior officers accepted it as fact that units heavily engaged this day would be ready, after a night’s rest, to fight again.

Of his three corps commanders, only A. P. Hill reported in person to Lee this night. Both Longstreet and Ewell sent others with their summaries—an unusual measure for Longstreet, at least, who was not accustomed to absent himself. Reports of the damage done to the enemy were often exaggerated, but even allowing for a little reasonable skepticism, Lee knew that today’s fighting had wreaked serious havoc on Meade’s army.

“The result of this day’s operations induced the belief that, with proper concert of action, and with the increased support that the positions gained on the right [by Longstreet] would enable the artillery to render the assaulting columns, we should ultimately succeed,” Lee concluded, “and it was accordingly determined to continue the attack. The general plan was unchanged. Longstreet, re-enforced by Pickett’s three brigades, … was ordered to attack the next morning, and General Ewell was directed to assail the enemy’s right at the same time.”
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Also receiving instructions was Jeb Stuart, though their content was not specified in either his report or Lee’s. The only extant testimony regarding these orders was left by Stuart’s adjutant general, Major Henry B. McClellan, who could be expected to know such things. According to McClellan, “Stuart’s object was to gain position where he would protect the left of Ewell’s corps, and would also be able to observe the enemy’s rear and attack it in case the Confederate assault on the Federal lines [was] successful. He proposed, if opportunity offered, to make a diversion which might aid the Confederate infantry to carry the heights held by the Federal army.”

A Confederate officer who visited Lee’s headquarters late this night thought that the “commanding general looked well. He was all himself, and never appeared to better advantage.” Lee emerged from his tent upon hearing the voice of A. P. Hill, and made a point of walking over and publicly shaking Hill’s hand. “‘It is all well, General,’” Lee said. “‘Everything is well.’”

The fast pace of events over the last two days had made it difficult for the head of the Union Army’s Bureau of Military Information to get his
intelligence-gathering operation into action. Darkness provided the first real opportunity for George Sharpe’s people properly to assess the enemy’s situation. They concentrated on the several thousand Confederate prisoners held in the provost marshal’s makeshift stockades; by simply noting each captured man’s regiment, brigade, and division, Sharpe’s staff learned much of importance.

Summoned to Meade’s headquarters sometime before 9:00
P.M.,
Sharpe found Generals Meade, Hancock, and Slocum awaiting him. On the table before Meade were a plate of crackers and a half pint of whiskey that seemed silently to mock the tired and hungry officer. With one eye on the food, Sharpe reported that according to his organizational charts, the Rebel prisoners taken over the past two days represented every brigade in Lee’s army except those in Pickett’s Division. Sharpe’s charts were less than perfect, as some units in Lee’s army (most notably Junius Daniel’s brigade) were not in fact represented, but on the whole, they made a convincing case for Lee’s having committed virtually his entire strength to this battle.

Sharpe ducked out while the generals considered this information, then returned with some updates. As he spoke, he noticed that none of the men had touched the food. His people, he said, had also identified a small cavalry unit that had not yet been committed. And they had just learned, too, that “Pickett’s division has come up and is now in bivouac, and will be ready to go into action fresh tomorrow morning.”

This last news seemed to catch Hancock’s fancy, for he exclaimed, “General, we have got them nicked!” Sharpe thought
nicked
an odd word, but he let it pass. Suddenly everyone seemed to be staring at those crackers and that whiskey. Again it was Hancock who spoke: “General Meade,” he said, “don’t you think Sharpe deserves a cracker and a drink?”

It was likely after Sharpe left that Meade sent a brief situation report to Washington. “I shall remain in my present position to-morrow,” he indicated, “but am not prepared to say, until better advised of the condition of the army, whether my operation will be of a offensive or defensive nature.” Writing later to his wife of this day’s actions, Meade noted that their son had had two horses killed under him, and that his own favorite mount, “Old Baldy,” had also been shot. “I had no time to think of either George [Jr.] or myself, for at one time things looked a little blue,” Meade admitted, “but I managed to get up reinforcements in time to save the day. … The most difficult part of my work is acting without correct information on which to predicate action.”