Twelve

Custer vs. Stuart

 

Before dawn on July 3, Jeb Stuart led four brigades of his command—about five thousand mounted men reinforced with one thousand infantrymen—northeastward along the York Pike. His destination was a position around the far right of the Union line. Lee would be renewing his attack on Culp’s Hill, and planned to later execute a bold move that would thrust a massive and powerful gray fist into the belly of the blue line. George Pickett and eleven infantry brigades from four divisions—over thirteen thousand men—were scheduled to mount a heroic frontal assault that afternoon on Cemetery Ridge, the center of the Union defense.

Jeb Stuart’s cavalry was without question intended to play a vital role in Lee’s daring strategy. It would be likely—in spite of the widespread disapproval of Stuart’s recent actions—that the cavalry commander would have been briefed about the particulars of such an audacious undertaking. Stuart’s part in this offensive would be to wade into the Union rear in coordination with Pickett’s charge that afternoon and create mass confusion as well as weakening the line by killing as many as possible and drawing away the enemy to fight the cavalry.

The exact time of this mounted attack would be determined when circumstances warranted, and could be arranged by Lee dispatching a courier but, taking into consideration Stuart’s subsequent actions, was more than likely worked out to in some manner coincide with the conclusion of an artillery barrage. If Pickett’s charge was to be successful, Stuart must be in precisely the right position to discover it and improve the opportunity by hitting the Union rear. This one-two punch would, in Lee’s estimation, ultimately result in an overwhelming Confederate victory. To prepare for this mission, Stuart had consulted his topographical maps in order to select the perfect location to embark on this surprise offensive strike.1

While Stuart rode down the York Pike, Judson Kilpatrick received orders from General Pleasonton at 8:00 A.M. to move his division in support of Meade’s line at Little Round Top and Big Round Top. Kilpatrick had already departed with Farnsworth’s First Brigade by the time George Armstrong Custer received orders for the movement and roused his troops.

Custer had just gotten under way when an aide from Brigadier General David Gregg, commander of the Second Division, brought word that Gregg wanted Custer to join him about three miles north on the Hanover Road. Gregg had been charged with protecting Meade’s right flank and, given the amount of enemy cavalry activity operating in the area, feared that he lacked enough men to adequately defend that position. Gregg assumed responsibility for Custer’s presence without clearing the order through proper channels, but did so with concern for protecting the Union rear.2

Custer joined Gregg and formed his twenty-three-hundred-man brigade in a line along the intersection of Hanover and Low Dutch roads facing Gettysburg, partially on a property of farmland and forest owned by a farmer named John Rummel. The lesson learned the previous evening about the importance of reconnaissance convinced Custer to immediately send out patrols in every direction. The general was not about to be caught unaware of enemy strength or movement on this day.3

At about 10:00 A.M., Jeb Stuart directed his troopers off York Pike at a crossroads two and a half miles beyond Gettysburg. The horsemen rode another mile along a country road to approach a lengthy ridge that ran upward from the south, with heavy timber on the northern end. Cress Ridge, Stuart judged, would be the ideal position.

The high ground of Cress Ridge fell away to a level valley, and commanded views of pastoral pastureland dotted with an occasional farmhouse and separated in places by stone and stake-and-rail fences. Three hundred yards from the foot of the ridge stood a large wooden barn owned by the Rummel family. Hanover Road was a mile and a quarter away, and, more importantly, the position afforded direct access to the Union line to the south. Stuart had made an effort to conceal his movement into the thick woods behind the ridge, but Wade Hampton’s and Fitzhugh Lee’s brigades happened to pass through open ground and unintentionally revealed their presence.4

Custer’s vigilance about dispatching reconnaissance patrols had been rewarded. A patrol comprised of members of the Sixth Michigan had observed Stuart’s cavalry. The patrol commander, Major Peter Weber, returned before midday to report that at least two brigades of Rebel cavalry and one artillery battery had been observed moving forward through the trees one mile to the west of Cress Ridge. “I have seen thousands of them over there,” Weber related. “The country yonder is full of the enemy.”5

It did not take Jeb Stuart long to confirm the major’s report to his enemy. Shortly after noon, he ran out a section of Captain W. H. Griffin’s Maryland Battery and personally ordered the firing of four shots—and only four shots. Jeb then dispatched a dismounted detachment of Brigadier General Albert G. Jenkins’ Thirty-fourth Virginia to descend Cress Ridge and occupy some outbuildings on Rummel’s farm.6

At the time, the reason for Stuart’s impulsive artillery action befuddled not only the Union observers but his adjutant, Major Henry McClellan. Later, however, McClellan speculated that the firing of the four rounds may have been a prearranged signal to let General Lee know that Stuart had successfully reached his position at the Union rear and was prepared to carry out his mission.

McClellan’s assumption rings true. Stuart, the master of stealth, would not have fired the cannons and compromised his position simply to determine the location of his enemy. He knew, after all, that he was at the rear of the Union line and that there was a detachment to his front. His actions therefore can be interpreted to mean that the cavalry indeed was an integral part of a plan to strike the rear in coordination with Pickett’s frontal assault. Lee was now free to carry on with his bold strategy.7

Gregg held his own units in support, and assigned the front to the Michigan Brigade. Brigadier General Custer had studied the terrain with field glasses, and formulated his reply to Stuart. He ordered Battery M under Lieutenant Alexander C. M. Pennington, his West Point friend from the class of 1860, to return fire, and deployed the Sixth Michigan on the left, the Seventh on the right, and the First in the center. The Fifth was dismounted as skirmishers to the left and center.

The opposing riflemen exchanged fire for some time until Union artillery fire, or perhaps an order from Stuart, eventually succeeded in causing the Confederate troops and battery to withdraw. The fight at that point was reduced to long-distance sniping between the two sides into early afternoon.8

While Gregg and Custer anxiously waited for Stuart’s next ploy, the brigade commanded by Colonel John McIntosh arrived and began to relieve Custer’s men at the forward positions. The colonel reported to Custer, who explained the situation. McIntosh pointed toward the distant ridge, and jokingly said, “I think you will find the woods out there full of them.” These fresh troopers spread onto the field and to some extent escalated the skirmishing.9

While Custer’s men retired to the rear, a courier from General Kilpatrick reported to Gregg with orders for the Michigan Brigade to rejoin the Third Division. At about the same time, Gregg received orders from Pleasonton to release Custer, but also learned from Major General Oliver O. Howard, commander of the Sixth Corps atop Cemetery Hill—a former classmate and friend of Jeb Stuart at West Point—that a large number of enemy cavalry earlier had been observed moving to the right.

Gregg was faced with a predicament. He was already aware of Stuart’s presence, but was now concerned about the strength of his enemy. He had been charged with protecting the Union rear, and could use all the troops he could muster. McIntosh would at some point require reinforcements. Custer was of the opinion that a fight was imminent, and volunteered to stay with Gregg. The general agreed that Custer and his brigade should remain at that location, and decided to countermand both Pleasonton and Kilpatrick and keep the Wolverines with him for the time being.

Custer deployed his regiments south of Hanover Road, and positioned the six artillery pieces of Pennington’s battery and four guns commanded by Captain Alanson Randol nearby.10

At 1:00 P.M., the relative silence of the Cress Ridge and Rummel farm area was interrupted by the deafening roar of an artillery bombardment originating from the direction of Seminary Ridge, some four miles distant. The ensuing barrage was so heavy that it caused the ground to shake beneath the feet of the cavalry troops. Captain James Kidd later wrote, “The tremendous volume of sound volleyed and rolled across the intervening hills like reverberating thunder in a storm.”11

Jeb Stuart would have been aware that the Confederates had opened fire with 150 artillery pieces in an effort to soften up the Federal line in prelude to Pickett’s charge. This was his signal to ready his men for an attack on the Union rear. But first he must dispose of the blue cavalrymen who presently blocked his pathway.

Custer, on the other hand, would have been comforted to know that Federal guns had answered the challenge with seventy-two pieces of their own fired from behind the stone walls on Cemetery Ridge. But he would not have been fooled into thinking that this was exclusively an artillery duel at Gettysburg. He was savvy enough to recognize—as were many of his men—that such an ambitious Confederate bombardment had been initiated for a specific purpose. Everyone would have remained alert, wary of Stuart’s role in this pending offensive.12

Stuart did not waste any time before attempting to remove the obstacle that stood between his cavalry and the Union rear. Shortly before 2:00 P.M., a skirmisher line of Virginia regiments under Brigadier General Micah Jenkins—about fifteen hundred men—stepped from the woods on Cress Ridge and commenced a long-range engagement with the forward line of McIntosh’s regiment that ran along a fence near Rummel’s springhouse.

At the same time, Stuart ordered Griffin to open up with his cannons. The Rebel riflemen quickly gained the upper hand in what became a one-sided affair due to the fact that McIntosh’s men were running low on ammunition. McIntosh made an effort to disengage, but encountered problems getting away through the intense fire and called for assistance.

Union general David M. Gregg was an “ambulance general,” which was the term used for those generals who commanded from a safe place in the rear. He assigned the privilege of fighting Stuart’s Rebels on the field to his subordinate, George Armstrong Custer.

The new general responded by ordering Russell Alger’s Fifth Michigan to move forward on foot and deploying several companies of the Sixth on their left to relieve some of the pressure on McIntosh. Stuart countered by directing his artillery at the newcomers. The shells ripped into the midst of the Fifth Michigan to inflict numerous casualties. Custer quickly moved his men back to the shelter of a fence line where they could fire from cover.13

While the opposing artillery batteries engaged in a fierce duel, the dismounted Confederate Ninth Virginia cavalry broke into a charge. Alger’s Fifth Michigan patiently waited until the Confederates were within 120 yards before firing a furious volley. The Rebels were urged by their officers to strike before the enemy could reload. Unknown to the gray-clad troops, however, was the fact that the Wolverines had been outfitted with Spencer carbines. The Spencer could fire seven cartridges without reloading, and the Yanks discharged four accurate and devastating volleys that effectively stopped the onrushing Rebs in their tracks.14

The tough Invincibles regrouped and returned with reinforcements from Hampton’s and Lee’s brigades. The Fifth Michigan held its ground and maintained the same fire discipline. The Union men, however, were dangerously low on ammunition and were forced to retreat.

The withdrawal of those Wolverines inspired the Confederates to press forward. Lieutenant Colonel Vincent Witcher, commander of the Thirty-fourth Virginia, described this charge, “With a wild yell the whole line dashed forward, retook the fence and swept the Federal men back.” Stuart dispatched additional troopers, both on foot and mounted, to chase the retreating enemy. Relief was necessary at this point or the Fifth Michigan would be overrun.15

Captain Kidd noted what happened next, “Just then a column of mounted men was seen advancing from the right and rear of the Union line. Squadron succeeded squadron until an entire regiment came into view, with sabers gleaming and colors gaily fluttering in the breeze.”

Without being ordered to do so, George Armstrong Custer had ridden to the front of the Seventh Michigan. He unsheathed his saber, and shouted, “Come on, you Wolverines!” He kicked his spurs into his horse’s flanks and charged across the field at his enemy in front of his troops.16

As explosions ripped the earth, yelling and cheering at the top of their lungs, these troopers of the Seventh Michigan—their average age eighteen—followed Custer into the open field and slammed full force into the ranks of the Ninth and Thirteenth Virginia regiments. Stuart’s men outnumbered Custer’s men, but most of the Rebels were on foot and commenced a hasty retreat from the intent horsemen. Custer and his Wolverines pursued their panicked enemy and rode them down while rounding up small groups of prisoners.

To his dismay, however, Custer topped a rise to abruptly run into a stone wall with a rail fence on top. His troops bunched up at this barrier, which created a chaotic mass of rebelling horses and confused riders. The retreating Confederates noticed this turmoil, and turned about to fire at the trapped men from point-blank range.

One Union trooper who observed this action from a distance described that predicament, “To our astonishment and distress we saw that regiment, apparently without any attempt to change direction, dash itself upon a high stake and rider fence, squadron after squadron, breaking upon the struggling masses in front, like the waves of the sea upon a rocky shore until all were mixed in one confused and tangled mass.”17

Troopers from the Seventh Michigan labored under heavy fire to tear down the wall. Colonel John McIntosh rode into the fray, shouting, “For God’s sake, men, if you are ever going to stand, stand now, for you are on your free soil!”

They eventually succeeded in breaking through the stone wall. Custer skillfully directed them on a furious assault up the slope toward Rummel’s farm with the objective being a Confederate artillery battery. Once there, they were met with another sort of wall—this one of the human variety. The opposing cavalries tore into each other in a life-or-death, every-man-for-himself struggle described as a “desperate, but unequal hand-to-hand conflict” that grew worse by the minute for the outnumbered Yankees.18

Stuart ordered reinforcements—the First North Carolina and the Jeff Davis Legion—forward to support the Virginians. These newcomers to the field waylaid Custer’s move toward the battery, and in a running battle forced the Yankee horsemen southward across the farm.19

Custer had noticed that additional enemy cavalrymen were pounding toward the position from the flank, and wisely ordered his battered troops to retreat. The Rebels raced forward with intentions of cutting them off. Colonel Russell Alger was determined to ride to the rescue. While McIntosh’s troopers laid down a steady base of fire, Alger mounted two squadrons of his Fifth Michigan and charged into the Rebels, which allowed the besieged Wolverines to retire and restored distinct battle lines on the field.

There was not any time to rest, however. Jeb Stuart had a mission of the utmost importance to reach the Union rear. He may have been thwarted once by this upstart Union cavalry, but he was steadfast in his belief that his Invincibles could and would prevail. After all, they had always responded magnificently to any of his requests.20

Less than half an hour later—presumably at the same instant that Pickett and thirteen thousand Confederate infantrymen were streaming across the field toward the center of the Union line at Gettysburg—Stuart gathered his horsemen for one final desperate charge. If there was any conceivable hope of supporting Pickett, he needed to reach the Union rear, three miles away, as soon as possible or the day could be lost for the Confederacy. Stuart had no choice but to initiate his own version of Pickett’s charge on horseback and force the Yankees from the pathway to his objective.21

Stuart instructed Colonel John Chambliss to hastily organize eight regiments from Hampton’s and Lee’s brigades. The legendary cavalry commander had intended for this force to remain concealed in the timber until he gave the order to move, but his wishes were apparently misunderstood. This long gray line of mounted Southerners soon emerged from the woods on Cress Ridge and formed an impressive attack column.

The appearance of the Rebel horsemen was described by one awed Union participant, “In close columns of squadrons, advancing as if in review, with sabers drawn and glistening like silver in the bright sunlight, the spectacle called forth a murmur of admiration.”22

Captain William Miller of the Third Pennsylvania wrote about the moment the Confederates started on the move toward the Union position, “A grander spectacle than their advance has rarely been beheld. They marched with well-aligned fronts and steady reins. Their polished saber-blades dazzled in the sun. Shell and shrapnel met the advancing Confederates, tore through their ranks. Closing the gaps as though nothing had happened, on they came.”23

The Southern cavalry started at a trot, picked up speed to a canter, then galloped directly toward the center of the Union line.

Custer quickly sized up his situation as the Rebels steadily advanced—and it did not look good. The Seventh and Fifth Michigan were in the process of re-forming, and the Sixth was protecting Pennington’s artillery battery, which was furiously firing at the approaching horsemen. Custer had only one option left. Colonel Charles H. Town’s outnumbered First Michigan Regiment would have to ride out and meet this overwhelming threat. The First was a veteran, experienced unit, but with the odds greatly stacked against them, one officer summed up the feelings of his comrades by exclaiming, “Great heavens! We will all be swallowed up!”24

Colonel Town, who was ill and tired and rode strapped to the saddle, had never in his career shied away from a fight—no matter the odds. If he was to die, there was no better manner, to his chivalrous way of thinking, than during the execution of a heroic charge. He obediently ordered his troops forward with sabers drawn, and prepared to face the enemy on what could only be called a suicide mission.

At that moment, Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer, his long, yellow curls flowing behind him, galloped up to Colonel Town, saluted, and politely indicated that he would assume command. The young general, much to the surprise and admiration of his troops, had decided to lead the First Michigan on this dangerous charge. Custer rode to the front, where every eye could see him, unsheathed his heavy Toledo blade, and trotted forward with his customary bravado. He watched intently as his enemy approached down Cress Ridge.25

By this time, Colonel Chambliss’ gray-clad horsemen had progressed halfway to their objective across the open field. Custer, hearing the cheers and yells of his inspired men behind him, confidently urged his mount forward to close the distance between the two cavalries. Perhaps glancing now and then at the faces of the awestruck spectators he passed along his lines, Custer carefully maneuvered around fences and other obstacles and aimed his outnumbered regiment directly at the head of the onrushing Confederate force. Pennington’s battery had been blasting canister shot into the oncoming Confederates, but now ceased firing for fear of shelling their own men.

When the Rebels had advanced to within about one hundred yards away, Custer, from a position four lengths ahead of his troops, kicked his mount into a gallop, and shouted, “Come on, you Wolverines!” The blue column surged forward in what Colonel Alger would later call “the most gallant charge of the war.”26

An eyewitness from McIntosh’s brigade described the dramatic scene, “The two columns drew nearer and nearer, the Confederates outnumbering their opponents as three or four to one. The gait increased—first the trot, then the gallop. As the charge was ordered the speed increased, every horse on the jump, every man yelling like a demon. The columns of the Confederates blended, but the perfect alignment was maintained. As the opposing columns drew nearer and nearer, each with perfect alignment, every man gathered his horse well under him and gripped his weapon tighter.”27

Captain William Miller recounted the meeting of the opposing cavalries from his position in reserve, “As the two columns approached each other the pace of each increased, when suddenly a crash, like the falling of timber, betokened the crisis. So sudden and violent was the collision that many of the horses were turned end over end and crushed their riders beneath them. The clashing of sabers, the demands for surrender, the firing of pistols and cries of the combatants now filled the air.”28

Custer reported, “For a moment, but only for a moment, that long, heavy column stood its ground; then, unable to withstand the impetuosity of our attack, it gave way to a disorderly rout, leaving vast numbers of dead in our possession. I challenge the annals of warfare to produce a more brilliant or successful charge of cavalry.”29

The fighting was so intense and at such close quarters that some of the killed were found in pairs of blue and gray, “pinned to each other by tightly-clenched sabers driven through their bodies.” Another example of the intimacy of this battle was found by John Rummel when he later returned to his farm. In addition to thirty dead horses littering his lane, Rummel found the macabre sight of two opposing cavalrymen. “Their fingers, though stiff in death,” the farmer recalled, “were so firmly imbedded in each other’s flesh that they could not be removed without the aid of force.”30

George Armstrong Custer, for the second time in twenty-four hours, was rudely thrown to the ground when his horse, Roanoke, the blooded iron-gray stallion he had appropriated on his Urbanna raid, was struck by a round in the foreleg and collapsed. The uninjured brigadier general quickly corralled a riderless mount and leaped into the saddle to direct his troops and wreak havoc with his own deadly saber.31

The sight of his undermanned comrades gradually driving back the enemy so affected and motivated Captain Miller that he said to Lieutenant William Brooke-Rawle, “I have been ordered to hold this position, but, if you will back me up in case I am court-martialed for disobedience, I will order a charge.” Brooke-Rawle agreed, and the Third Pennsylvania Cavalry enthusiastically entered the fray. “The men fired a volley from their carbines, drew their sabers, sent up a shout, and ‘sailed in,’ striking the enemy’s left flank about two-thirds down the column,” Miller reported. Thirty-four years later, Captain Miller would be awarded the Medal of Honor for his courageous charge.32

Somewhere on that bloody field of battle rode Custer’s friend Confederate Colonel Tom Rosser, who was participating in his first combat since returning to duty after recovering from the wound sustained at Kelly’s Ford in March. With Custer leading those brazen charges of his troops, it was likely that Rosser knew who they were fighting—and may have learned right then about Custer’s almost unimaginable promotion to brigadier general. The romantic view would be that the eyes of those two friends turned adversaries had briefly met at some point as they commanded their troops on the field.

While Jeb Stuart directed the fighting from the vicinity of Rummel’s barn, additional Union units—remnants of the Fifth and Seventh Michigan, and the First New Jersey—slammed into the Rebels’ flanks while Custer and the First Michigan gouged a gaping hole through the center. The reinforcements proved too much for the Confederates to withstand, and turned the tide in favor of the Federal horsemen. The Rebels grudgingly gave ground. A frantic Jeb Stuart now feared that his besieged Invincibles would become surrounded and decimated, and ordered his men to retreat all the way back to Cress Ridge.

Custer paused from the fray to watch this panicked retreat by the Rebels—while his cavalry held the field and chased the fleeing Rebels. With his enemy withdrawing to their original position, he realized that Stuart’s threat to his troops—and to the Union rear—had been successfully repulsed. Any pursuit up Cress Ridge would be fruitless and only cost needless casualties. He prudently ordered a methodical withdrawal, all the while watching for any indication that Stuart might be only bluffing. It was no bluff—Stuart had quit.33

This skirmish had not only been perilous for the common Confederate cavalrymen who had made that final charge, but the lives of the cavalry hierarchy were also placed in jeopardy. According to John Esten Cooke, “We lost many good men. General Hampton was shot in the side and nearly cut out of the saddle by a saber stroke [to the head]. He was slowly being borne to the rear in his ambulance, bleeding from his dangerous wounds. General Stuart had a narrow escape in this charge, his pistol hung in his holster, and as he was trying to draw it, he received the fire of barrel after barrel from a Federal cavalryman within ten paces of him, but fortunately sustained no injury.”34

The legendary Jeb Stuart had been soundly whipped—or at least fought to a draw and denied his objective. Just twenty-three years old and a general for less than a week, George Armstrong Custer had humiliated one of the greatest cavalry commanders in the world.

Three miles away, George Pickett and his eleven brigades—over thirteen thousand men—had charged the Union center with disastrous results for the South. Pickett and other officers gave speeches of encouragement as the men headed toward the “little clump of trees” at the Union center that was the objective of the attack. The mile-wide line, perfectly aligned, flags proudly waving, marched across the pasture at one hundred yards a minute. Halfway there, they executed a smart left oblique to close the gap between divisions.

Before long, enfilading sheets of canister artillery fire from Union guns on both Cemetery Hill and Little Round Top burst into their midst, shell after shell exploding to create gaping holes in the lines where men were blown apart. Union infantry riflemen saturated the field with a devastating fusillade of bullets, targeting officers and color-bearers, but making it a wonder that any living thing could survive such an onslaught.

Pickett’s men broke into a run, yelling like demons, trying to reach their enemy in that clump of trees, but only a few Confederate warriors ever made it to the stone wall defense along the Union line. The gray-clad attackers quickly vanished within the sea of blue uniforms, while others were sent into a disorganized retreat, leaving behind great numbers of their comrades dead and wounded on the field. Fifty regimental colors had accompanied the Confederates across that field, and more than thirty of them would become trophies of war for the Union. Of the thirteen thousand men who started the march, perhaps five thousand returned. The battle at Gettysburg, for all intents and purposes, was over, and General Lee’s grandiose strategy had failed.35

Although it was an utter failure, the plan for Pickett’s charge as devised by Robert E. Lee was nothing short of brilliant. For unknown reasons, the attack on Culp’s Hill that had been part of this three-pronged attack plan never occurred as scheduled, although there were two earlier probes. But the coordinated effort of Pickett and Stuart would have been devastating enough in its own right had it been executed.

It has always been assumed that the role of Jeb Stuart’s cavalry on this final afternoon was to disrupt Union supply lines and chase fleeing Yankees after Pickett routed them from the lines. Although Lee never produced actual orders that confirmed his plan to send Stuart’s cavalry against the Union rear, solid evidence exists that this was his intention. And that evidence comes from the official report written by Jeb Stuart himself.

Lee had reinforced Stuart’s command with Jenkins’ brigade of one thousand men, and dispatched them to that location on Cress Ridge. Stuart would not have been ordered to chase retreating Yankee soldiers after Pickett’s charge with Jenkins’ brigade attached. Pursuit would have been purely a cavalry operation. The foot soldiers were there to engage their Union infantry counterparts.

Consequently, Stuart’s mission without a doubt was to descend Cress Ridge, cross the Hanover Road, turn southwest, and, as he wrote in his report, “to effect a surprise on the enemy’s rear.” Stuart twice stated that he had intended to make a mad dash for the Union rear. His mission had not been to chase fleeing troops but to charge into those that were entrenched at the Union rear in a coordinated effort with Pickett.36

It cannot be determined for certain what would have happened if Stuart’s cavalry had been able to threaten or make contact with the Union rear. The Federals, however, would have been obliged to remove manpower from the line and send it against this formidable six-thousand-man cavalry/infantry detachment. Had that been the case, the Union center would have been much more vulnerable to the frontal assault headed its way and would have perhaps caved in as Lee had intended.

General Lee, to his credit, in keeping with his strong character, would have kept secret his plan now that it had failed. Exposure of the particulars could only embarrass his cavalry commander for its lack of success. Lee would not have been concerned about blame being placed on his own shoulders. He would protect his subordinate, and take his chances with his own reputation. Stuart, who had won the hearts of the Southern public, would be needed in the future if the Confederate forces were to prevail in this conflict. It would serve no purpose to demoralize the legendary cavalry commander.

Contrary to what some detractors would claim, Stuart had not shirked his duty. He had made every effort to fulfill Lee’s orders. The legendary cavalry commander had encountered one problem, however—a newly minted brigadier general by the name of George Armstrong Custer. Technically, the ranking officer on the field was Brigadier General David Gregg, commander of the Second Division, who had persuaded Custer to remain at that location. But Custer was certainly the de facto commander on the field, and the strategies that countered Stuart’s intentions were formulated and carried out by him.

The significance of the result of this battle east of Gettysburg, not to mention Custer’s extraordinary personal bravery and tactical decisions, has been all but ignored by modern-day historians, likely due to prejudices and controversies from the Boy General’s later career. Nonetheless, the actions of Custer that day are worthy of a prominent place in the history of the Gettysburg battle—perhaps even as the turning point—and in the history of the Civil War, as well as in the history of cavalry warfare throughout the ages.

Casualty totals for both sides in the cavalry skirmish east of Gettysburg have been a matter of contention. Stuart reported losses of 181 killed, wounded, or missing—excluding his artillery batteries and Jenkins’ brigade. Gregg reported the loss of 35 from his Second Division. Custer’s Wolverines had suffered 29 killed, 123 wounded, and 67 missing, which left no doubt about which unit had stymied Jeb Stuart’s horsemen in this significant encounter.37

The last great cavalry saber battle of the war pitting Johnny Reb and Billy Yank against each other had ended with the Federals claiming victory and the Confederates contending that it had been a draw. One debate, however, that had originated at Brandy Station had been settled. Jeb Stuart’s legendary Invincibles were no longer deemed invincible by the ecstatic Union cavalry.

This sentiment was echoed on the Confederate side of the lines by William Blackford. After calling the battle “about as bloody and hot an affair as any we had yet experienced,” Blackford added, “The cavalry of the enemy were steadily improving and it was all we could do sometimes to manage them.”38

The field east of Gettysburg was turned over to medical personnel, who tended to those combatants showing any sign of life while loading the unfortunate ones into creaky caissons that carried away the bodies from the carnage.39

Custer’s Confederate friend, Tom Rosser, offered his reason as to why Stuart failed, “Stuart had been marching constantly almost day and night, on scant forage and little rest for man or horse, for eight days, within the enemy’s lines, and while his conduct displayed a daring almost to recklessness, he accomplished little, save the wear and fatigue of long marches.”40

At dusk, while Custer and the wary Union cavalry maintained a vigilant watch, Jeb Stuart abandoned Cress Ridge and withdrew his weary brigades down York Pike. Stuart displayed his own fatigue by leading his men in the wrong direction—directly toward enemy lines—until corrected by a staff officer. Stuart was good-natured about his error, and resumed his march in this new direction with only a courier at his side while his staff rode on ahead. At one point, the courier rode forward as Stuart slept in his saddle. His horse failed to recognize his rider’s headquarters, and nearly carried Stuart into enemy cavalry pickets.

It had been an exhausting ten days for Stuart and his cavalry, but what lay ahead would perhaps be more personally demanding for the Beau Sabreur—the scrutiny of his actions by those seeking to place blame for this failure to defeat the enemy at Gettysburg.41

Somewhere along the Union cavalry lines, a jubilant George Armstrong Custer rested in the darkness. He had accomplished everything that General Gregg had expected of him—and, perhaps more importantly, everything he had expected of himself. His miscalculation of the previous night would now be relegated to a mere footnote or likely forgotten. He had gained redemption by meeting Jeb Stuart and emerging draped with glory.