There are few things on earth, if any, more terrifying than an artillery barrage. Death rains down from above, shattering trees and sending fragments of steel indiscriminately across the lines.
On July 3, 1863, the third day of the Battle at Gettysburg, the Confederate Army opened up a massive artillery attack on the Union ranks. The incoming shells caught men who were just having lunch. An orderly serving butter was cut in half by shrapnel; soldiers died holding food, while others perished still clamping a cigar in mouth (Ken Burns, Civil War).
There was another, equally ghastly aspect of this barrage - much of the artillery overshot the Union line, falling well behind the front-line soldiers. Here, death rained down on the hospitals, exploded ambulances ferrying the wounded, slaughtered scores of horses, and destroyed wagons hauling supplies.
In response, Union artillery returned fire. For two hours, the great armies that had amassed in the peaceful farmland of Pennsylvania exchanged volleys. Smoke obscured the lines, and a thunderous roar shook the countryside. Then, the Union stopped - the Northern Army ceased its bombardment. Far from defeated, the artillery was called off as a ruse, in order to lure the Confederates out into the open. It worked.
Confederate General Robert E. Lee had elected a massive frontal assault of his troops against the Union line. His plan was to soften the resistance with an artillery barrage, and then charge the Union right down the middle. According to historians interviewed in Ken Burns' Civil War series, the Confederate soldiers, practically to a man, anticipated this charge to be pure suicide. At 3:00 in the afternoon, on one of the hottest days in July, the men of the South were ordered to move out, in what is now referred to as "Pickett's Charge."
Out of the woods came some 13,000 men. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and formed a line over a half-mile long. Uttering scarcely a word, they briskly and silently marched toward their objective. An entire ocean of movement, including horses, flags, glinting bayonets - a literal wave washing across the countryside and uphill, toward the Northern front.
The Union men could not believe their eyes. All along the line, an eerie silence of anticipation prevailed as the Confederates advanced across the open field. A mile of space separated the two lines, giving the Northerners plenty of time to prepare. Officers on horseback rode along the line, encouraging the men to keep calm, lie still - "let them come close" before opening fire. Union soldiers leveled their muskets, readied their ammunition, and waited for the Confederates to draw closer.
When the Union Army opened fire, it couldn't miss. The Northerners let the Southerners get to within 200 yards before firing a shot. At that moment, 11 cannon and 1,700 muskets went off at once. A great moan arose from the Confederate ranks as they were caught in the open. A single artillery shell could kill a dozen men. Still, the Southern boys advanced.
I stood with my Australian friends atop Little Round Top, which offered us a commanding view of the field. Our tour guide, "the Colonel", paused for a moment. He held out a golf-ball sized metal ball. He passed it around. When I took it, my hand dipped. It was heavy. He continued, "This is called grapeshot. They fired these from cannon, precisely like a shotgun. One of these projectiles could pass through three men before coming to a stop." Another weapon was two cannon balls attached to either end of a length of chain. When fired, the chain sliced across the field, as lethal and effective as a scythe.
July 3, 2013 marked the 150th anniversary of the Gettysburg Battle. My friends and I toured the site the following week, on July 11, 2013. The 150th anniversary was, appropriately, considered a sacred milestone - some 10,000 Civil War re-enactors took part in the event. The Colonel went on, "I was giving a tour on July 3, the 150th anniversary of Pickett's Charge. We were right here, on Little Round Top when about 13,000 re-enactors and participants walked across that very field. I'll tell you what - seeing that gives you chills."
The Confederates advanced, getting to within point-blank range of the Union line. As soldiers within arms reach shot at one another, only in one spot did the Confederates actually breach the line. They were quickly repelled and pushed back. All across the field, Southern ranks broke and retreated back to the woods. Pickett's Charge had been a catastrophe; of the 13,000 men who had left the woods, nearly half were killed, wounded, or captured.
In conjunction with Pickett's Charge, J.E.B. Stuart's Confederate cavalry attempted to move around and behind Union lines, hoping to exploit any weaknesses brought on by the assault. One Union officer, a brigadier general, earned recognition on this day by personally leading two attacks at the Confederates. His saber drawn, he had two horses shot out from under him, but attacked the Southerners so violently that when his men reached the Confederates, an audible crash was heard. Many of the horses flipped head over heels, crushing their riders in the battle at East Cavalry Field.
Here again, the Confederates were beaten back, thanks in part to the actions of Brig. General George Armstrong Custer.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
On July 3, 1863, the third day of the Battle at Gettysburg, the Confederate Army opened up a massive artillery attack on the Union ranks. The incoming shells caught men who were just having lunch. An orderly serving butter was cut in half by shrapnel; soldiers died holding food, while others perished still clamping a cigar in mouth (Ken Burns, Civil War).
There was another, equally ghastly aspect of this barrage - much of the artillery overshot the Union line, falling well behind the front-line soldiers. Here, death rained down on the hospitals, exploded ambulances ferrying the wounded, slaughtered scores of horses, and destroyed wagons hauling supplies.
In response, Union artillery returned fire. For two hours, the great armies that had amassed in the peaceful farmland of Pennsylvania exchanged volleys. Smoke obscured the lines, and a thunderous roar shook the countryside. Then, the Union stopped - the Northern Army ceased its bombardment. Far from defeated, the artillery was called off as a ruse, in order to lure the Confederates out into the open. It worked.
Confederate General Robert E. Lee had elected a massive frontal assault of his troops against the Union line. His plan was to soften the resistance with an artillery barrage, and then charge the Union right down the middle. According to historians interviewed in Ken Burns' Civil War series, the Confederate soldiers, practically to a man, anticipated this charge to be pure suicide. At 3:00 in the afternoon, on one of the hottest days in July, the men of the South were ordered to move out, in what is now referred to as "Pickett's Charge."
Out of the woods came some 13,000 men. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and formed a line over a half-mile long. Uttering scarcely a word, they briskly and silently marched toward their objective. An entire ocean of movement, including horses, flags, glinting bayonets - a literal wave washing across the countryside and uphill, toward the Northern front.
The Union men could not believe their eyes. All along the line, an eerie silence of anticipation prevailed as the Confederates advanced across the open field. A mile of space separated the two lines, giving the Northerners plenty of time to prepare. Officers on horseback rode along the line, encouraging the men to keep calm, lie still - "let them come close" before opening fire. Union soldiers leveled their muskets, readied their ammunition, and waited for the Confederates to draw closer.
When the Union Army opened fire, it couldn't miss. The Northerners let the Southerners get to within 200 yards before firing a shot. At that moment, 11 cannon and 1,700 muskets went off at once. A great moan arose from the Confederate ranks as they were caught in the open. A single artillery shell could kill a dozen men. Still, the Southern boys advanced.
I stood with my Australian friends atop Little Round Top, which offered us a commanding view of the field. Our tour guide, "the Colonel", paused for a moment. He held out a golf-ball sized metal ball. He passed it around. When I took it, my hand dipped. It was heavy. He continued, "This is called grapeshot. They fired these from cannon, precisely like a shotgun. One of these projectiles could pass through three men before coming to a stop." Another weapon was two cannon balls attached to either end of a length of chain. When fired, the chain sliced across the field, as lethal and effective as a scythe.
July 3, 2013 marked the 150th anniversary of the Gettysburg Battle. My friends and I toured the site the following week, on July 11, 2013. The 150th anniversary was, appropriately, considered a sacred milestone - some 10,000 Civil War re-enactors took part in the event. The Colonel went on, "I was giving a tour on July 3, the 150th anniversary of Pickett's Charge. We were right here, on Little Round Top when about 13,000 re-enactors and participants walked across that very field. I'll tell you what - seeing that gives you chills."
The Confederates advanced, getting to within point-blank range of the Union line. As soldiers within arms reach shot at one another, only in one spot did the Confederates actually breach the line. They were quickly repelled and pushed back. All across the field, Southern ranks broke and retreated back to the woods. Pickett's Charge had been a catastrophe; of the 13,000 men who had left the woods, nearly half were killed, wounded, or captured.
In conjunction with Pickett's Charge, J.E.B. Stuart's Confederate cavalry attempted to move around and behind Union lines, hoping to exploit any weaknesses brought on by the assault. One Union officer, a brigadier general, earned recognition on this day by personally leading two attacks at the Confederates. His saber drawn, he had two horses shot out from under him, but attacked the Southerners so violently that when his men reached the Confederates, an audible crash was heard. Many of the horses flipped head over heels, crushing their riders in the battle at East Cavalry Field.
Here again, the Confederates were beaten back, thanks in part to the actions of Brig. General George Armstrong Custer.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
