(from General James Longstreet,
From Manassas to Appomattox:
Memoirs of the Civil War in America, 1896)
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE’S spectacular triumphs at Fredericksburg (1862) and Chancellorsville (1863) encouraged him to invade the North again. His goal was to demoralize the Union with a smashing victory and achieve a negotiated peace settlement. Advancing into Pennsylvania, Lee’s army blundered into contact with the Union forces under General George Meade at Gettysburg—a chance meeting that turned into a crucial three-day battle.
On the first day of battle, July 1, 1863, the Confederates attacked the northern end of the Union line. On the following day they attacked the southern end. South of the Union line lay Little Round Top. Confederate General James Longstreet believed this was the key to outflank the Union army. Also recognizing the importance of Little Round Top was General Winfield Scott Hancock, commander of the Union Second Corps. He rushed his soldiers to occupy the site as the Confederate men from Alabama clawed their way up the steep slope. The local battle reached its climax as the Twentieth Maine Regiment, under Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, was almost out of ammunition. Chamberlain, a minister and professor at Bowdoin College before the war, shouted the command to fix bayonets and drive the Confederates down the hill. The counterattack succeeded, and Little Round Top was held.
The final action at Gettysburg was fought on July 3. To the consternation of Longstreet, Lee ordered a direct assault on the center of the Union line, defended by General Hancock’s Second Corps. This charge was to be supported by a Confederate artillery barrage that was meant to obliterate the Union position. The Confederate artillery, commanded by Colonel Porter Alexander, did their thunderous best, using roughly 90 percent of their available ammunition. The Union soldiers crouched behind a stone wall on the forward slope of a rise called Cemetery Hill. The ground between the Union and Confederate positions was open field about three quarters of a mile wide and devoid of shelter.
About five minutes after the end of Alexander’s barrage, the Confederate infantry emerged from the woods on Seminary Ridge and drew up in parade-ground order, battle flags flying. General George Pickett’s division contained about 4,800 men, organized in three brigades. They outnumbered the Union defenders, who had been seriously depleted by Alexander’s shelling, by two to one.
When the Confederate assault commenced there was admiration on both sides at the sight of the Confederate advance. The Virginians came forward in unison with steady steps, sometimes dressing their lines. On one occasion they responded smartly to an order to “By the left, oblique—march!” Their advance was not a charge but a deliberate attempt to maintain their lines until they had reached the stone wall behind which the Union infantry waited. There was no rebel yell traditionally used to demoralize defenders—only silent Confederate troops advancing in near perfect order.
“Pickett’s Charge” ranks as a stirring example of collective courage. In this excerpt from his book, From Manassas to Appomattox: Memoirs of the Civil War in America, General Longstreet gives an account of the action as he saw it, as well as his arguments with Lee concerning the charge—none of which detract from the bravery of the advancing Confederate troops.
GENERAL LEE has reported of arrangements for the day, “The general plan was unchanged. Longstreet, reinforced by Pickett’s three brigades, which arrived near the battle-field during the afternoon of the 2d [July], was ordered to attack the next morning, and General Ewell was ordered to attack the enemy’s right at the same time…”
This is disingenuous. He did not give or send me orders for the morning of the third day, nor did he reinforce me by Pickett’s brigades for morning attack. As his head-quarters were about four miles from the command, I did not ride over, but sent, to report the work of the second day. In the absence of orders, I had scouting parties out during the night in search of a way by which we might strike the enemy’s left, and push it down towards his centre. I found a way that gave some promise of results, and was about to move the command, when he [Lee] rode over after sunrise and gave his orders. His plan was to assault the enemy’s left centre by a column to be composed of McLaws’s and Hood’s divisions reinforced by Pickett’s brigades. I thought that it would not do; that the point had been fully tested the day before, by more men, when all were fresh; that the enemy was there looking for us, as we heard him during the night putting up his defences; that the divisions of McLaws and Hood were holding a mile along the right of my line against twenty thousand men, who would follow their withdrawal, strike the flank of the assaulting column, crush it, and get on our rear towards the Potomac River; that thirty thousand men was the minimum of force necessary for the work; that even such force would need close co-operation on other parts of the line; that the column as he proposed to organize it would have only about thirteen thousand men (the divisions having lost a third of their numbers the day before); that the columns would have to march a mile under concentrating battery fire, and a thousand yards under long-range musketry; that the conditions were different from those in the days of Napoleon, when field batteries had a range of six hundred yards and musketry about sixty yards.
He said the distance was not more than fourteen hundred yards. General Meade’s estimate was a mile or a mile and a half (Captain Long, the guide of the field of Gettysburg in 1888, stated that it was a trifle over a mile). He then concluded that the divisions of McLaws and Hood could remain on the defensive line; that he would reinforce by divisions of the Third Corps and Pickett’s brigades, and stated the point to which the march should be directed. I asked the strength of the column. He stated fifteen thousand. Opinion was then expressed that the fifteen thousand men who could make successful assault over that field had never been arrayed for battle; but he was impatient of listening, and tired of talking, and nothing was left but to proceed. General Alexander was ordered to arrange the batteries of the front of the First and Third Corps, those of the Second were supposed to be in position; Colonel Walton was ordered to see that the batteries of the First were supplied with ammunition, and to prepare to give the signal-guns for the opening combat. The infantry of the Third Corps to be assigned were Heth’s and Pettigrew’s divisions and Wilcox’s brigade….
The director of artillery was asked to select a position on his line from which he could note the effect of his practice, and to advise General Pickett when the enemy’s fire was so disturbed as to call for the assault. General Pickett’s was the division of direction, and he was ordered to have a staff-officer or courier with the artillery director to bear notice of the moment to advance.
The little affair between the skirmish lines quieted in a short time, and also the noise on our extreme left. The quiet filing of one or two of our batteries into position emphasized the profound silence that prevailed during our wait for final orders. Strong battle was in the air, and the veterans of both sides swelled their breasts to gather nerve and strength to meet it. Division commanders were asked to go to the crest of the ridge and take a careful view of the field, and to have their officers there to tell their men of it, and to prepare them for the sight that was to burst upon them as they mounted the crest….
The signal-guns broke the silence, the blaze of the second gun mingling in the smoke of the first, and salvoes rolled to the left and repeated themselves, the enemy’s fine metal spreading its fire to the converging lines, ploughing the trembling ground, plunging through the line of batteries and clouding the heavy air. The two or three hundred guns seemed proud of their undivided honors and organized confusion. The Confederates had the benefit of converging fire into the enemy’s massed position, but the superior metal of the enemy neutralized the advantage of position. The brave and steady work progressed….
General Pickett rode to confer with Alexander, then to the ground upon which I was resting, where he was soon handed a slip of paper. After reading it he handed it to me. It read:
If you are coming at all, come at once, or I cannot give you proper support, but the enemy’s fire has not slackened at all. At least eighteen guns are still firing from the cemetery itself.
ALEXANDER.
Pickett said, “General, shall I advance?”
The effort to speak the order failed, and I could only indicate it by an affirmative bow. He accepted the duty with seeming confidence of success, leaped on his horse, and rode gaily to his command. I mounted and spurred for Alexander’s post. He reported that the batteries he had reserved for the charge with the infantry had been spirited away by General Lee’s chief of artillery; that the ammunition of the batteries of position was so reduced that he could not use them in proper support of the infantry. He was ordered to stop the march at once and fill up his ammunition-chests. But, alas! There was no more ammunition to be had.
The order was imperative. The Confederate commander had fixed his heart upon the work. Just then a number of the enemy’s batteries hitched up and hauled off, which gave a glimpse of unexpected hope. Encouraging messages were sent for the columns to hurry on,—and they were then on elastic springing step. The officers saluted as they passed, their stern smiles expressing confidence. General Pickett, a graceful horseman, sat lightly in the saddle, his brown locks flowing quite over his shoulders. Pettigrew’s division spread their steps and quickly rectified the alignment, and the grand march moved bravely on. As soon as the leading columns opened the way, the supports sprang to their alignments. General Trimble mounted, adjusting his seat and reins with an air and grace as if setting out on a pleasant afternoon ride. When aligned to their places solid march was made down the slope and past our batteries of position.
Confederate batteries put their fire over the heads of the men as they moved down the slope, and continued to draw the fire of the enemy until the smoke lifted and drifted to the rear, when every gun was turned upon the infantry columns. The batteries that had been drawn off were replaced by others that were fresh. Soldiers and officers began to fall, some to rise no more, others to find their way to the hospital tents. Single files were cut here and there, then the gaps increased, and an occasional shot tore wider openings, but, closing the gaps as quickly as made, the march moved on….
Colonel Latrobe was sent to General Trimble to have his men fill the line of the broken brigades, and bravely they repaired the damage. The enemy moved out against the supporting brigade in Pickett’s rear. Colonel Sorrel was sent to have that move guarded, and Pickett was drawn back to that contention. McLaws was ordered to press his left forward, but the direct line of infantry and cross-fire of artillery was telling fearfully on the front. Colonel Fremantle ran up to offer congratulations on the apparent success, but the big gaps in the ranks grew until the lines were reduced to half their length. I called his attention to the broken, struggling ranks. Trimble mended the battle of the left in handsome style, but on the right the massing of the enemy grew stronger and stronger. Brigadier Garnett was killed, Kemper and Trimble were desperately wounded; Generals Hancock and Gibbon were wounded. General Lane succeeded Trimble, and with Pettigrew held the battle of the left in steady ranks.
Pickett’s lines being nearer, the impact was heaviest upon them. Most of the field officers were killed or wounded. Colonel Whittle, of Armistead’s brigade, who had been shot through the right leg at Williamsburg and lost his left arm at Malvern Hill, was shot through the right arm, then brought down by a shot through his left leg.
General Armistead, of the second line, spread his steps to supply the places of fallen comrades. His colors cut down, with a volley against the bristling line of bayonets, he put his cap on his sword to guide the storm. The enemy’s massing, enveloping numbers held the struggle until the noble Armistead fell beside the wheels of the enemy’s battery. Pettigrew was wounded, but held his command.
General Pickett, finding the battle broken, while the enemy was still reinforcing, called the troops off. There was no indication of panic. The broken files marched back in steady step. The effort was nobly made, and failed from blows that could not be fended….
Looking confidently for advance of the enemy through our open field, I rode to the line of batteries, resolved to hold it until the last gun was lost. As I rode, the shells screaming over my head and ploughing the ground under my horse, an involuntary appeal went up that one of them might take me from scenes of such awful responsibility; but the storm to be met left no time to think of one’s self. The battery officers were prepared to meet the crisis,—no move had been made for leaving the field…. Our men passed the batteries in quiet walk, and would rally, I knew, when they reached the ridge from which they started.
General Lee was soon with us, and with staff-officers and others assisted in encouraging the men and getting them together.