"...through lead and iron..."

Friday, July 3, 1863, Gettysburg

This last night I slept quite well as did many of us,  even with sporadic skirmishing all during the night. That same skirmishing the night before kept us from getting a good sleep after such a fatiguing day. I suppose it all overwhelmed us last night.

At least some of us had to remain on watch lest the Yankees come down from their positions to engage with us. I have been told that where they are is called Cemetery Ridge. We had to relieve each other at fairly frequent intervals to allow everyone to get some sleep.

This morning, after our cartridge boxes were refilled and some time after breakfast, the Yankees did, indeed, come out of their works and tried to retake a road that ran in front of our positions. Gallantly they came on and gallantly we sent them back. This took quite some time as their attack was spirited and in earnest. 

As the attack continued, we could see more of the enemy being fed into the fray. They wanted that road rather badly and so did we. Finally, the Fourteenth was ordered to charge them and thus claim the road as ours. We supported them from where we were with our gunfire. The Yankees gave ground under protest but they did give. Eventually, they retreated back to their works and we all rested somewhat nervously. 

Now, our boxes were depleted and in need of replenishment but this was not effected. Lieutenant Williamson was concerned that if we were called upon to engage in a general attack, we would suffer for lack of ammunition. I had been suffering from the lack of a canteen, mine having been holed yesterday. My pards, I believe, were becoming annoyed at my frequent requests for a pull at their canteens but it has been so beastly hot.

I was saved from a death by thirst when several of my pards gave me their canteens and told me that if I wanted any more water from them, I should refill their canteens. I had eight or ten of them slung around me and set off in search of water. I could not remember seeing any water during our advance from Wednesday to today. I was looking for a line of trees in a depression which might indicate a branch. 

I found such a place and there was, indeed, water. There was also a Yankee who had the same idea. He had his musket and I had a string of canteens. It was lucky for me that he was quite dead, as evidenced by two bloody holes in his sack coat. I presumed that he was wounded and made his way to this water. Being wounded makes one very thirsty and his live went from him while he was filling his canteen. As he had no further use for it, I relieved him of his burden. It was not too bloody. He was minus his shoes and haversack so others had visited him before me.

After filling all the canteens, I made my way back to my pards. Upon seeing me, they hurrahed me. When they saw that I had a canteen of my own, they hurrahed me a second time. Corporal Flynn chastised me for not bringing back the dead Yankee's musket and cartridge box. And I had filled his canteen, too. Such ingratitude. 

While I recovered from my burdensome journey, my pards told me what had happened in my absence. Lane's brigade and Scales' brigade were taken away from our division and marched south and west of us into a wooded area. General Trimble, whom is new to me, now commands the division now that General Pender is absent, wounded from yesterday. He did not remove the whole division, just those two brigades. Our brigade and Thomas's brigade were left in place, why, no one knew. We did know that there was now a gap in our lines where those two brigades had been. Should the Yankees discover this, we would be hard-pressed to keep them from exploiting the gap as we had done to them two days ago.

We were lying there waiting for a Yankee attack and wishing for more ammunition when a great cannonade opened up in the general direction of where the two brigades had gone. We were too far to be able to tell how many guns were involved but there must have numbered in the several dozens, and they were all ours. We cheered and cheered those artillery boys knowing they were giving the Yankees H--l.

When their artillery responded, we stopped cheering because some of the H--l was directed at us. We tried to look very small. We supposed that our bombardment was a prelude to a general assault. Was their similar treatment of us a prelude to an assault of their own? We fixed our bayonets while lying down. Muskets that were unloaded were made ready. Corporal Flynn went up and down his part of the line, telling us to keep a sharp eye.

This exchange of artillery ammunition continued for some time. We could see some of their shells land in the woods. We thought those rounds landed in error. The cannon fire slowed and then such a sight that is seen once in one's lifetime was seen by all of us. From one area of the woods came our infantry. The line was easily seen by all the red battle colors. It reminded me of our own regimental colors. All of our brigade was issued new colors just a few weeks ago. None of them look new anymore.

As we continued to watch, additional regiments and brigades emerged from the woods and formed up into one long and grand line of battle. They looked so splendid, like they had spent their whole lives drilling. And they looked so mighty.

Then we saw our two missing brigades. We could tell them by their colors. Both of the brigades, half of our division, was crossing a field to have at the Yankees. We sat along the sidelines and cheered heartily but we would have preferred to be with them. There were several lines, a line of skirmishers followed by the main line followed by the supports. Our two brigades were in the line of supports. Lieutenant Williamson has a glass and said that our brigades were following behind Pettigrew's North Carolinians. We then gave three cheers for the Old North State. 

As the lines advanced, they came within range of Yankee muskets and artillery. The fire directed against them was fierce but they did not waver.They maintained their formations and went forward through lead and iron. As they advanced, we could tell that something was wrong. At this point, a message reached Lieutenant Williamson stating that Lieutenant Stover had been wounded and he, Williamson, now commanded the company. We called upon him to allow us to go in and support our people. Ever a soldier, he said he could not move from this spot without orders.

So we watched and did nothing except cheer them on. We saw more and more of them go down and felt helpless. The numbers of those leaving the lines and returning, many limping and some even crawling, to the cover of the trees from whence they came. We saw more and more colors disappear. 

We assumed the goal of this attack was a low stone wall near a small grove of trees. Eventually, the lines merged and blurred into a mass of grey and butternut moving against a mass of blue at that location. We saw some of our people make and go over the wall and we looked for the supports that never came. All of them, blue and grey alike, fought like furies. In the end, we could take the wall but not hold it.

There was a stream of men, wounded and not, returning to the woods. This stream fas forced to weave its' way through those who would move no more. There were so many of them. A person could open up a stables with all of the riderless horses on that field. I saw one horse, well appointed, struggle to get away with a broken foreleg. It did not make it.
Someone showed mercy and shot it.

Those of us who remained behind were appalled at the sight of what had happened. Orders were orders and we stayed. We stayed and we cried. Some of us opened fire on the Yankees in front of us but our new company commander quickly put a stop to it lest we use up our meager supply of ammunition and be unable to repulse a Yankee attack should there be one.

But there was no attack. The rest of the day consisted of the usual sporadic skirmishing as what happened the past two nights. It is good for the Yankees that they did not attack us. We were so angry that we would have slaughtered them with our teeth. 

The rest of the night, up to this point, has remained uneventful. We have eaten but little as there is little desire to nourish ourselves. We wait for who knows what. On the morrow, either they will come after us or we after them and we will do it again. 


I Send You These Few Lines...


Pickett's Charge. Day three of Gettysburg. The name Pickett's Charge is a misnomer. Pickett commanded only his division, not the entire attack force. By rights, it should be called the Pickett-Pettigrew-Trimble Charge. But really, Longstreet gave the orders.

What happened was that General Isaac Trimble was an officer without a command and General Lee wanted to give him something to do. General Lane had assumed command of Pender's division after Pender was wounded on July 2. Trimble replaced Lane who went back to command his own brigade. Trimble took half of his new division and was behind General Pettigrew as his support.  Trimble would be wounded during the charge and Pettigrew would receive a mortal wound during the retreat back to Virginia.

Why the charge and why the failure is a subject that I won't touch. There's enough people already engaged in the battles over that subject; they do not need me.  

Whom will attack whom tomorrow?