The relative quiet was broken shortly before 8:00 p.m. when Maj. Gen. Jubal Early launched two brigades against Cemetery Hill. Col. Isaac Avery’s regiments were ordered to strike from the northeast while Brig. Gen. Harry Hays’ Louisiana troops assaulted from the north. Holding Gettysburg proper was Maj. Gen. Robert Rodes’ Division. His task was to get his brigades out of town, deploy them, and assail Cemetery Hill from the northwest
A lieutenant in the 8th Louisiana received the orders to assault the high ground with dread. “I felt as if my doom was sealed, and it was with great reluctance that I started my skirmishers forward.” Another officer put it this way: “the quiet, solimn mien of our men showed plainly … on every face was most legibly written the firm determination to do or die.” Colonel Hamilton Jones of the 57th North Carolina recalled that when a bugle sounded the order to move out, “the line advanced in beautiful order, and as it pointed to the south-west there was a glint all along the line of bayonets that was very striking and marked how beautifully they were aligned.”6
Hays’ right flank probably followed the eastern side of Brickyard Lane for about 250 yards before wheeling to the right to approach the Federal line. The brigade’s left flank was probably where the school sits today.7
Avery’s Brigade probably marched astride the fence line that today is marked by East Confederate Avenue. After crossing an orchard, the North Carolinians traversed Culp’s Meadow, where Colonel Avery halted the brigade to dress its ranks. He then wheeled his men to the right while Hays moved to the left to close the gap between the two brigades. The commander of the 57th North Carolina described the movement as one in “which none but the steadiest veterans could have executed under such circumstances.” In a vulnerable position in Culp’s Meadow, the 41st New York and 33rd Massachusetts pulled back and extended von Gilsa’s line to the right.8
The Confederates sustained only light losses from the artillery and small arms fire and reached a low-lying area out of sight of the Federals remarkably unscathed. “But we are too quick for them, and are down in the valley in a trice, while the Yankee missiles are hissing, screaming & hurtling over our heads, doing but little damage,” was how an officer in Hays’ Brigade explained the thus-far successful attack.
Colonel Andrew Harris watched as Avery’s line of battle appeared anew, stepping out of the low-lying area. “When they came into full view in Culp’s meadow our artillery … opened on them with all the guns that could be brought to bear,” Harris later wrote. “[S]till on they came, moving steadily to the assault, soon the infantry opened fire, but they never faltered. They moved forward as steadily, amid this hail of shot shell and minnie ball, as though they were on parade far removed from danger.”9
Fully aware that his men were still recovering mentally and physically from the thrashing they had suffered on July 1, Colonel Harris rode along the line, reminding the soldiers about the “importance of our position, and that we must hold it all hazards.” The colonel was not optimistic about his chances. Many of these same regiments had sustained heavy losses the day before, and some probably numbered fewer than 100 effectives.10
A wounded private watching the charge from the upper floor of a church left a graphic description of the effects of the Federal fire: “[H]eads, arms, and legs flying amid the dust and smoke … it reminded me much of a wagon load of pumpkins drawn up a hill and the end gate coming out, and the pumpkins rolling and bounding down the hill.” At least four batteries poured a frontal and enfilade fire against the advancing Confederate lines. Avery’s men were hardest hit, hammered by the batteries on Cemetery Hill and by Stevens’ battery, firing from what is today known as Stevens Knoll.11
General Hays attributed the light losses suffered by his brigade to the growing darkness and rolling dense smoke. “Our exact locality could not be discovered by the enemy’s gunners, and we thus escaped what in the full light of day could have been nothing else than horrible slaughter.” The steep slope of East Cemetery Hill also protected Hays’ men from the artillery on the top of the hill.12