One Gallant Rush
On July 2, 1863, Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee intended to launch the Army of Northern Virginia in multiple attacks against the flanks of the Army of the Potomac and shear the Union defenses. Coordinated correctly, these “en echelon” attacks would force confusion in the Union lines and eventually breach it. Lee’s plan was solid, but his lines were stretched out over a long distance, and coordination of the attack would become more difficult than he anticipated. Nevertheless, the day’s fighting was fierce, inflicting catastrophic casualties on both sides.
We decided to visit the spot where Confederate Brig. Gen. Cadmus Wilcox and his brigade of Alabamians stopped to realign before pushing to the top of Cemetery Ridge. We stood on the Confederate side of the approach to the ridge, looking at the First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry monument with its lone soldier in full stride, musket leveled. Staring at the monument, we thought what must have gone through the minds of the Confederate soldiers as they heard the Union huzza and saw the large number of Union soldiers come streaming out of the smoke toward them. And we marveled at the valor of the 262 men of the First Minnesota, a Union regiment that went into battle at the most critical time, when the Union center on this part of the field was crumbling, against a force that was six times its size. When the smoke cleared, only 47 men from the First Minnesota returned to their original line on Cemetery Ridge.
We’ve been told that valor is often born of circumstance. History tells us that Union Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock saw Wilcox’s brigade, unchallenged, forming near the base of a ridge with the intent of charging a gap in the Union line. Hancock knew he needed reinforcements desperately and saw the First Minnesota close at hand. He pointed to a Confederate flag over the advancing line and shouted to Col. William Colvill of the First Minnesota, “Advance, Colonel, and take those colors!”
Colvill’s task was critical. If he and his men couldn’t delay Wilcox’s brigade from penetrating the gap before more reinforcements arrived, the Confederates would most certainly push the Union forces off their strategic position on Cemetery Ridge. If that happens, the entire Union line collapses, and the outcome of the battle is very different.
As we stood by the monument, an overwhelming sense of trepidation descended upon us. Patrick felt the words wash over him: “Dear God! Plug the gap or all is lost!” Could these have been Hancock’s thoughts when he first rode up the ridge and witnessed the desperate situation unfolding before him? Did we just trigger a residual haunting? Jack must have felt something as well, as the thought still rang in our heads we paused where we stood, looking back at the monument.
The 262 men of the First Minnesota charged directly into the center of Wilcox’s 1,700 Alabamians with a tremendous yell. The unit’s flag fell five times and rose again each time. They momentarily stopped the Alabamians cold. Ten minutes later, the small group of surviving Minnesotans (47 men all wounded and exhausted) came streaming back as fresh Union troops came over the ridge and engaged Wilcox’s brigade at the foot of the ridge. The First Minnesota’s 83 percent casualty rate stands to this day as the largest loss by any surviving military unit.
General Robert E. Lee, who launched the Army of Virginia into multiple attacks against the flanks of the Union army on the second day of fighting. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
Union General Winfield Scott Hancock, who ordered the First Minnesota to stop an unchallenged Confederate assault on Cemetery Ridge. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
As we stood there in awe of such bravery, a woman in her forties came up beside Patrick and started talking. She noted the logo on the back of his shirt and asked if he ever investigated this battlefield. We told her about some of the evidence we captured and described some of the more personal moments we experienced on the battlefield.
She then recounted the following story to us:
I was walking in the early morning, just after sunrise, along the road just behind us. I enjoy taking brisk walks through the battlefield at that time in the morning because everything is so peaceful. As I approached the area we’re standing in, I heard a great commotion. It sounded like a football game with a lot of people shouting. I couldn’t see anyone around me, but it seemed to come from the area where that monument (she pointed at the First Minnesota monument) is standing. I moved closer to investigate when I heard a tremendous cheer from what seemed like hundreds of voices, and then suddenly the sounds were gone.
We asked her if she heard anything else, but she said she only remembered the shouting and especially that final cheer. It seemed so odd and out of place to her. We then described the cheer as a “hurrah” and asked her if that was close to what she heard. She believed it was.
Did she hear the cry of the First Minnesota as they charged into history? Did she hear the subsequent cheers that came from the approaching Union reinforcements who witnessed their gallant rush? Did her being in the right place at the right time allow her to experience the “living history” of an emotional event that took place on this spot over 150 years ago?
Often, the random individuals you meet while exploring Gettysburg have fascinating stories that they are more than willing to share with you. It seems they are drawn to the battlefield for one reason or another, whether they are a descendant of someone who fought in the battle or a witness to a strange paranormal event that keeps them coming back, they all have a tale to tell.
Sometimes, they represent solid eyewitnesses to paranormal phenomena, and it’s important to document such stories in order to enhance the database of information that can help researchers develop patterns as to where and when certain phenomena take place.
We always return to the First Minnesota monument to see if we can witness (and capture) a part of the amazing events that took place in 1863. If nothing else, we’re happy to stand and honor the men who rushed in the face of great odds and willingly sacrificed their lives for a cause in which they believed so strongly.