CHAPTER
XLIX
THE
GETTYSBURG CAMPAIGN
At 3 o’clock , P.M.. the
union batteries ceased firing. Not from
a want of ammunition, or on account of any serious injury sustained from the
fierce attack made upon them by the enemy’s batteries, but in order to
encourage the enemy to make a demonstration upon our lines.
The ruse worked to a charm and a Division of Rebels,
the elite of Hill’s and Longstreet’s Corps, rushed upon portions of the 1st
and 11th Army Corps, with a determination that was worthy of a
better cause. When within range, the
Union batteries opened with grape and canister upon them. The foe advanced with a yell, and soon came
within easy range of the deadly rifles of our boys, and the slaughter was
terrible.
At this juncture our regiment was moved up to the
center, occupying a position in the rear of the line from which we had moved on
the evening previous. The fighting to
our left and front was desperate, but at last the rebel line was compelled to
fall back, having been most severely punished.
About this juncture, the last attempt was made by the
Rebel Army to retrieve the fortunes of the day, and consisted of the daring
attempt of General Longstreet and his troops to carry Round Top, and which
attempt proved a miserable failure, resulting in a great and glorious victory
for the Union Army, dispelling the dark clouds which had for the past few days
so completely shrouded the prospects of a speedy restoration of peace in the
deepest gloom.
As the sun was sinking behind the western horizon, we
were moved up in a position in the front line on Culp’s Hill, where we
anxiously yet confidently awaited the renewal of the attack made upon this
portion of the line during the forenoon.
The firing had now almost entirely ceased, save the
occasional report of the deadly sharpshooter’s deadly rifles, which were
frequently attended by the fatally wounding or killing of our men. As the
evening, or night, wore on and we were not attacked, a number of the boys went
to the rear to prepare coffee for the rest of the company.
It happened to be our lot to go to the rear, and while
bending over a small fire, blowing up the coals, not daring to make a large
fire for fear of drawing upon us the fire of the artillery of the enemy, to
boil our coffee. A German belonging to
one of our regiments, was using a fire next to us, holding his coffee cup by
means of his bayonet, a stray ball came wizzing in, cutting his finger off as
slick as a greaser. The unfortunate man
dropped his cup spilling the coffee as a matter of course. The first exclamation we heard was:
“Dunder-und-blitzen, de verflucht rebels hen my
coffee versheit.”
Picking up his coffee cup he found his finger in the
bottom of it, taking it out he placed it as it had been and remarked:
“Yets wor das so.”
And placing his finger carefully in his coffee cup, he
started for the hospitals.
Anxiously during the long and silent night did we wait
and watch for the approach of the enemy, little imagining that at the same
time, the enemy was retreating Southward, discouraged and defeated, leaving a
large number of their dead and wounded in our hands.
At last the East gave the first signs of returning day
by the light gray tints, followed by the deeper red or crimson streaks which
betoken the approach of the King of day.
As the light became strong enough, we peered forth in the direction of
the enemy lines to catch a glimpse of them, but all to no purpose.
Soon the rumor reached us that the enemy had
retreated. To our left the 1st
Corps, or rather the skirmishers were extending their lines and advancing down
the hill. We awaited to hear the sharp
and decisive reports of musketry, but in this we were happily doomed to be
disappointed. The rumor was correct, the
boasting enemy had been repulsed, upon a field of his own choosing and once
again victory had been achieved through the bravery and heroism of the noble
old Army of the Potomac . When it became positively known that the
Rebels had really retreated, the joy and rejoicing which filled the hearts of
the brave Union soldiers, was great in the extreme, and only those who have
stood victors upon a sanguinary battle-field, can conceive the feelings of
those who have conquered.
Soon the men started out to view the field of death,
and we never desire to look upon such a sight again. Our first visit was to that part of the field
where our Regiment had done such terrible execution on the previous day. The sight which met our gaze, can not be
adequately expressed by the most fluent tongue, neither can it be portrayed by
any pen. The field was covered with the
dead, all of which had been exposed to the rays of a July sun for a whole
day. The faces of the dead were terribly
swollen and were as black as could be, whilst out of their widely opened eyes,
they seemed to stare at the beholder and say: “you are my murderer,” or at
least, this was the whisperings of the “small still voice,” hidden within our
breast. On a field containing less than
three acres, and in fact on a strip of ground less than 200 feet in length, and
20 feet wide, we counted 275 dead bodies, and since the percentage of wounded
is at least five to one, fully one thousand men must have been wounded in the
front of our division. For a distance of
several hundred yards we could have stepped from one dead body to another. Men, who were shot in the head with the brain
oozing out of the opening, showing plainly where the fatal ball had entered,
others shot in the breast, with every particle of clothing torn from the
wounded locality, others who been struck by a shell, disemboweled, headless,
and limbless, wounded in all conceivable places as well as apparently under all
kinds of circumstances, men who fell as they had been standing, with their
guns by their sides, some with a cartridge in their hand, others in the act of
getting out of their cartridge box a cartridge, others in the act of shooting,
in short lay just as they been stricken down, in many instances their
countenances portraying the very excitement which actuated them at the moment,
the thinly compressed lip, and on others we could trace the apparent surprise,
which seemed to be stamped on their faces, showing that many of them apparently
were aware of the fact that they had been hit by something, we remember very distinctly
of seeing one man a member of a Virginia Regiment, a Sergeant, who had been
shot in the limb, this he had tied up with a shelter-tent, his forehead had a
wound which was bound up by a handkerchief but he laid cold and stark in death
with a bullet hole in his breast, whilst his hand was pointing towards the
wound. The remark that we heard
expressed by all who saw him was “ poor fellow, he was a brave man,” for no one
can appreciate a brave act, or honor a brave soldier more, be he foe or friend,
than he who has faced death himself upon the field of battle.
This was the first battle field that we had been
permitted to examine after a hardly contested engagement, and we took advantage
of the circumstance. A little to the
left of where our regiment was stationed, we found the body of General Ewell’s
Adjutant General, lying dead by the side of his horse, and we counted eleven
bullet holes in his person whilst his horse was completely riddled.
This officer was a splendid specimen of a man, tall
and commanding in appearance and well dressed, with a splendid pair of high top
boots. The boys cut off his buttons for
relics, than pieces of his clothing, then some one took his boots, this was
continued until when next we saw him there was nothing left of his clothing but
drawers and socks.
We also noticed that those who had been wounded and in
which causes death was not instantaneous, the men had removed all clothing from
the wounded part of the body, thus giving the beholder a plain view of all the
horrible wounds produced by shot and shell,
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