Gettysburg (83 page)

Second Corps staff officer Captain Henry Bingham saw a group of Union soldiers carrying a single Rebel; when he challenged them, he was informed that they were taking care of an important prisoner. Bingham dismounted, identified himself as an aide to Hancock, and asked the Confederate officer his name. It was Lewis Armistead. Observing the great suffering Armistead was experiencing, Bingham solicitously offered to protect his valuables. This led Armistead to confide that Hancock was “an old and valued friend of his” and to ask his aide to pass along a message: “‘Tell Gen. Hancock for me that I have done him and done you all an injury which I shall regret [until] … the longest day I live.’” Bingham secured the wounded officer’s “spurs, watch, chain, seal and pocketbook,” then saw that he was taken to a field hospital, where he died on July 5.

The ubiquitous Frank Haskell managed to meet up with George Meade as the latter reached the area near the breakthrough on Cemetery Ridge. Although he had already been told that the enemy was retreating, Meade needed to see it for himself. “‘How is it going here?’” he demanded of Haskell. “‘I believe, General, the enemy’s attack is repulsed,’” came the answer. “‘
What? is the assault entirely repulsed?’”
Meade asked. “‘It is, Sir,’” Haskell responded. Meade let this confirmation soak in for a moment. “‘
Thank God
,’” he said.

Collecting himself, Meade asked who commanded this section. Told by Haskell that John Caldwell was now in charge, the army chief relayed some orders to be passed on. The troops were to be reformed in case the enemy should try another attack, Meade instructed, and then he designated places for the reinforcements that would be arriving. Before moving along, he issued one more directive: “‘
If the enemy does attack, charge him in the flank, and sweep him from the field, do you understand
[?]’” After indicating that he did understand, Haskell watched the general ride off.

Meade had not gone far before he encountered Major William G. Mitchell, another of Hancock’s aides, carrying a message from the wounded general. As Mitchell later recollected it, he reported in Hancock’s name that the “’troops under my command have repulsed the enemy’s assault and … we have gained a great victory. The enemy is now flying in all directions in my front.’” Mitchell also informed Meade of his commander’s wounding, prompting the reply, “‘Say to General Hancock that I regret exceedingly that he is wounded and that I thank him for the Country and for myself for the service he has rendered today.’”

Lacking any field guide or brief regarding the objective of Pickett’s attack, the two reinforcing brigades under Cadmus Wilcox, beginning from even farther south than Kemper’s Brigade, had angled slightly left as they advanced, though not far enough left to connect with the Virginians. Instead, Wilcox and Lang marched straight into the sights of McGilvery’s long line of cannon. Having enjoyed only a limited opportunity to pound Pickett’s formations, the Yankee gunners lavished on the two small brigades that suddenly appeared before them their undivided and enthusiastic attention. An Alabama man soon to be struck down would recollect how “a storm of shot and shell was poured upon us.” A Florida soldier, commenting on the wall of artillery ahead, declared with a touch of dry humor that given the Rebels’“weary and wasted forces, it was [thought] impolitic to storm.” One of Lang’s officers reported that his “men were falling all around me with brains blown out, arms off and wounded in every description.”

The two Confederate brigades seemed to be targeting the 14th Vermont, in George Stannard’s line. Observing their approach from Cemetery Ridge, alert Union officers turned the north-facing 16th Vermont completely about in order to add its musketry to the canister and shrapnel pummeling Wilcox’s troops. The regiment’s commander quickly secured permission from Standard to execute a short charge that snatched prisoners and some flags.
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There was brief respite from the punishment when Major John Cheeves Haskell arrived on the scene with five guns that Edward P. Alexander deemed suitable for close support. Haskell’s men got in a few good shots against the Vermont troops before McGilvery’s collection of batteries lashed out at them. “In a very few minutes these guns had disabled several of mine, killing and wounding quite a number of men and horses,” Haskell wrote. In his after-action report, Wilcox would note that “seeing none of the troops that I was ordered to support, and knowing that my small force could do nothing save to make a useless sacrifice of themselves, I ordered them back.” Added David Lang, “Owing to the noise and scattered condition of the men, it was impossible to have the order to retreat properly extended and I am afraid that many men, while firing from behind rocks and trees, did not hear the order, and remained there until captured.”

East of Gettysburg, the largest cavalry-versus-cavalry fight of the three days was also coming to an end. Unlike the assault on Cemetery Ridge, the action here never reached a dramatic climax somehow worthy of the effort. Instead it unfolded as a seemingly purposeless series of actions and reactions that, when it was all over, left the participants feeling relieved, exhilarated, and generally confused.

There was no single controlling figure on the Confederate side. Although Jeb Stuart commanded all the Rebel units on the scene, he remained with the right wing near John Rummel’s farm and appears to have exercised little actual direction over the left wing under Fitzhugh Lee. Stuart had the numerical edge in artillery, with fourteen guns to the Federals’ ten, but he never massed them to advantage, whereas the Yankees’ cannon worked in concert and thereby remained an effective factor throughout the engagement.

At one point, several thousand horsemen were either moving across or fighting in the fields north of the Hanover Road and just west of the Low Dutch Road. Although Confederate combat doctrine usually favored the pistol over the sword, on this day, observed a Federal officer, the Rebels advanced “with sabers drawn and glistening like silver in the bright sunlight.” A charging unit would drive back an enemy advance that had reached the end of its tether, only to be struck either in front or in flank by a counterthrust that, more often than not, sent it reeling. It was likely one such countercharge by the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry
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that knocked the props out from under the last major Rebel mounted effort, letting the combat subside into the dismounted skirmishing with which it had begun hours earlier. As darkness settled over the churned-up, bloody fields, the cannon on both sides closed the books on this day’s fighting here.

Stuart’s proper place this night was with the main army, so he withdrew to the York Pike, leaving behind a screen of pickets to cover the movement. The Federals remained on the scene in greater force and would later cite this fact as evidence of victory. In his postbattle report, Stuart would claim that his actions had rendered “Ewell’s left [flank] entirely secure,” inspired “some apprehension” on the part of the enemy infantry units near the Baltimore Pike, and maintained Confederate possession of a position that proffered an excellent “view of the routes leading to the enemy’s rear.” David Gregg had a simpler take on the entire affair, one that made it patently obvious which cavalry chief he believed had carried out his mission. Referring to Stuart, Gregg declared, “His was to do, ours to prevent.”

Judson Kilpatrick was a doer. He was expected to get things done, to make things happen. Sadly for many of those fated to serve under the man they called “Kill-cavalry,” no one responsible for supervising Kilpatrick looked very closely at how he obtained his results, or even considered whether they were really worth getting in the first place.

It was around midday when Kilpatrick brought Elon J. Farnsworth’s brigade
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of his division into a position southwest of Big Round Top, opposite the right flank of the Rebel infantry line that stretched from the Devil’s Den around the western base of Big Round Top before swinging over toward the Emmitsburg Road. A detachment from Farnsworth’s command chased Rebel pickets away from Bushman Hill, allowing Lieutenant Samuel S. Elder to set up his Battery E of the 4th United States Light Artillery on that site. Not far away, a scouting squadron from the 1st Vermont Cavalry even poked along the dirt lane leading to the Bushman farm buildings without meeting a great deal of opposition.

At roughly the same time, Wesley Merritt was aggressively probing along the Emmitsburg Road, drawing to him all of the Confederate cavalry assigned to that flank, as well as portions of Tige Anderson’s Georgia infantry brigade. Perhaps hoping to exploit the Confederate preoccupation with Merritt’s effort, Kilpatrick hastily sent the 1st West Virginia Cavalry thrusting against the Rebels posted along Big Round Top’s western base. The mounted charge, not preceded by any artillery fire to soften the defenses, got as far as a rail fence that no one had noticed, woven tight with withes. A few of the cavalrymen dismounted and tried to pull the fence apart, but they succeeded only in attracting the attention of a portion of the 1st Texas, which rushed into position to scythe the fence line with a killing volley. A second Mounted effort, by the 18th Pennsylvania and 5th New York, also foundered.

Kilpatrick, however, was not ready to quit. By the time he made up his mind, Merritt’s reconnaissance up the Emmitsburg Road had lost its momentum, the Cemetery Ridge assault had collapsed, and the men of Hood’s Division felt reasonably confident that the Yankee infantry on the Round Tops posed no aggressive threat. Psychologically, the likelihood that even a sharp cavalry attack could incite panic among these Southern veterans was small indeed. Nor did the terrain aid Kilpatrick’s cause: while not especially hilly, it featured a number of walled fields, narrow trails, and points of advantage that had already been secured by Rebel soldiers. Nonetheless, “Kill-cavalry” was determined to attack again.

The unit he selected for the mission was the 1st Vermont Cavalry. Elon Farnsworth conferred with Major John W. Benett, whose service on the regimental skirmish line earlier this day had provided him with a good sense of the ground. After listening to what Benett had to say, and seeing some of it for himself, Farnsworth concluded that there was not the “slightest chance for a successful charge.” This was something that Judson Kilpatrick did not want to hear. “‘General Farnsworth, well, somebody can charge,’” Kilpatrick responded after his subordinate delivered his negative assessment. Getting the message, the younger, newly minted brigadier went off to organize the 1st Vermonters for the effort, though he told an officer that the prospect was “too awful to think of.”

Two battalions of the 1st Vermont Cavalry undertook this attack, perhaps 300 men in all. Farnsworth accompanied Major William Wells’ battalion, which was to be supported by the one led by Captain Henry Parsons. Since skirmish lines were never intended to hold ground, the charging Yankee column easily blew through the widely spaced screen maintained by the 1st Texas. Bursting out from around the western side of Bushman Hill, Wells’ riders veered east to run along the rear of the Rebel picket line, toward the western slope of Big Round Top.