Gettysburg (52 page)

The professional equilibrium Longstreet had maintained in carrying out Lee’s orders (despite his personal opposition to them) slipped
measurably as the situation unraveled. First there had been the misdirection of the flank march, and next came the realization that all the intelligence upon which the operation had been based was flawed. Longstreet now did something he should have done much earlier: he rode to the front to see things for himself. He arrived at the Pitzer Woods ridge line “very much disconcerted and annoyed,” according to McLaws.

Right away, Longstreet demonstrated his sour mood by finding fault with McLaws’ deployment and ordering a battery placed where the road he had followed crossed the ridge. He ignored McLaws’ protest that with his infantry clustered along that road, putting cannon there would draw counterfire that could only hurt his soldiers.

Some of those soldiers were the 1,600 men of William Barksdale’s all-Mississippi brigade, considered among the best fighters in McLaws’ Division. Their Tennessee-born commander was a public figure of note, having represented his adopted state in the U.S. Congress for eight years. Following an action in 1862, Robert E. Lee had proclaimed that Barksdale possessed the “highest qualities of a soldier,” while an infantryman who served under him deemed him “a brave and fearless leader.”

During their early-morning march from Marsh Creek to McPherson’s Ridge, the Mississippi veterans had viewed the morbid debris of the July 1 fighting—a cold reminder, if they needed it, of their own mortality. The message hit home for J. W. Duke of the 17th Mississippi, whose brother sought him out before daylight with a tearful prediction: “‘Something is going to happen to-day.’”

At the end of their wearying flank march, Barksdale’s men were in the front, almost directly opposite Sherfy’s peach orchard. “We formed our line under a ledge of rocks along a small branch, a small hill from the branch up to the edge of the field, enough hill and timber to hide us from the Yankees,” remembered a soldier in the 13th Mississippi. Ahead of them was a wide-open field fronting the enemy position in the peach orchard, which appeared to be filled with infantry and bristling with cannon.

James Longstreet’s other division commander was also causing him problems. An aide from Hood reported to Longstreet that since scouts
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had found no Federal troops on the southern side of Big Round Top, the
Kentuckian wanted to alter the plan further and swing around that point. Longstreet turned down the request. The movement Hood was proposing would not assist McLaws’ assault, and it could dangerously isolate that division, well beyond Longstreet’s ability to provide support. He offered no reasonable explanation for his rejection of Hood’s plan, stating only that “General Lee’s orders are to attack up the Emmitsburg Road.” This was not sufficient for Hood, who tried twice more to get Longstreet to reconsider, only to have each appeal refused. His third messenger was followed back by one of Longstreet’s staff officers, Major John Fairfax, who saw at once Hood’s real difficulty. The key factor was not that the enemy was absent south of Big Round Top; it was that the eastward bend of the Yankee position at the peach orchard was not the terminus of the Federal line, which instead continued east for a short distance and then veered southward to the end of a ridge at the foot of Little Round Top.

A reporter for the
Savannah
(Georgia)
Republican
saw the situation with a clarity that somehow eluded the Confederate leaders this day. “It was well known that Meade had chosen a formidable position,” he wrote, “but the extent and strength of his line, the disposition of his forces, as well as the nature of the ground, and especially the relation his line bore to the mountain spurs on the right, were but little understood.” Hood, however, could see that any effort to move perpendicular to the Emmitsburg Road would subject his men to an enfilade fire from their right flank and rear. Fairfax brought this message back to Longstreet.

Any clear historical perspective on what happened next has been thoroughly obfuscated by several postwar personality clashes among the participants. It is probable that Longstreet had some exchange of views with Lee at this time. The military observer FitzGerald Ross recalled Longstreet’s having “a long consultation with the Commander-in-Chief.” By whatever means, Longstreet acquired a broader sense of Lee’s objectives, which he now understood to be “to envelop the enemy’s left, and begin the attack there, following up, as near as possible, the direction of the Emmitsburg road.” This granted him greater flexibility in setting up Hood’s attack, a latitude that he in turn conveyed to his subordinate.

The attack that Hood prepared was nothing like the supporting action originally proposed, nor was it a movement entirely oriented along the axis of the Emmitsburg Road. Hood, who like McLaws had deployed his men in two lines of two brigades each, intended his first wave to break up the enemy’s concentration near Devil’s Den and turn the Federals’ flank there. If need be, the second wave would directly assist the first; otherwise, it could also be redirected to carry out the initial mission of attacking along the Emmitsburg Road.

Although nowhere articulated in any account by Longstreet or Hood, this is the best explanation for the advance of Hood’s first line, which occurred under Longstreet’s and Hood’s direct observation and yet bore little relation to the movement mapped out hours earlier by
Robert E. Lee. Longstreet would always insist that the order he had executed was the one to attack up the Emmitsburg Road, and within the liberal definition of enveloping the enemy’s left, that was what he did.

John B. Hood’s first attacking wave consisted of Brigadier General Jerome B. Robertson’s Arkansas and Texas brigade on the left and Evander M. Law’s Alabama brigade on the right. The pair represented a veteran shock force of perhaps 2,700 men. Robertson’s soldiers had marched from the Chambersburg area the day before, halted for a while near Cashtown, then marched again to bivouac along Marsh Creek. After a few hours’ rest, they had been moved to McPherson’s Ridge, where they had again played the waiting game.

For one man in the 4th Texas, there was “a calm, as of death” that “seemed to rest upon the earth” that morning on McPherson’s Ridge. Nevertheless, the sight of so many armed men and other weapons of war served as a sobering reminder “that the carnival was at hand.” The consequences of that carnival were on display for any who cared to see them. Another 4th Texas veteran would never forget passing a field hospital today “where I saw a great many wounded soldiers, who were mangled and bruised in every possible way, some with their eyes shot out, some with their arms or hands, or fingers, or feet or legs shot off, and all seeming to suffer a great deal.”

It would become fashionable to assert, in postwar accounts, that Robertson’s men were eager for the fray. Not everyone agreed. “It is very true that these men were tried and seasoned soldiers, with powers of endurance equal to any, yet they were not made of iron, and there is a limit to all human endeavor,” reflected a soldier in the 3rd Arkansas. That limit was very much on the mind of Evander Law, whose Alabamians had covered eighteen miles in eight hours just getting to Gettysburg this hot day. At least seven more miles were added to that total following the roundabout route before Law’s men began moving into their jump-off positions.

Several of Longstreet’s batteries were already engaging the enemy guns that were visible in the peach orchard. In preparation for Hood’s forward movement, all the cannon that had been brought up to the line of battle prepared to open fire on the position held by the Federal Third Corps. It was approaching 3:30
P.M.

Gouverneur K. Warren’s pensive survey of the Union left flank eventually led him to Little Round Top. He likely ascended its northern slope and
from there made his way to the busy flag signal station on the hill’s western side. “I saw that this was the key of the whole [Union] position,” Warren later wrote. “The long line of woods on the west side of the Emmitsburg road … furnished an excellent place for the enemy to form out of sight.” In a moment of pure inspiration, he sent an aide to Smith’s battery in the Devil’s Den, requesting that “the captain … fire a shot into these woods. He did so, and as the shot went whirling through the air the sound of it reached the enemy’s troops and caused everyone to look in the direction of it. This motion revealed to me the glistening of gun barrels and bayonets of the enemy’s line of battle, already formed and far outflanking the position of any of our troops.” Warren’s feelings at that moment were “intensely thrilling … and almost appalling.”

This moment would become one of the cherished stories of Gettysburg, leading some to credit Warren with discovering Lee’s flanking movement. Certainly by this time Daniel Sickles and any troops posted in Sherfy’s peach orchard knew that the Rebels were opposite them in force. But Warren’s important discovery went beyond the Third Corps, for it revealed that except for a small signal-corps unit, Little Round Top had no defenders. Meade’s chief engineer immediately dispatched aides in different directions to find some.

George Meade and his entourage located Daniel Sickles and his entourage by the Wheatfield Road, at Sherfy’s peach orchard. Several versions of their ensuing conversation would later be advanced. By his own account, Meade asked Sickles “to indicate to me his general position. When he had done so I told him it was not the position I had expected him to take.” Sickles, for his part, would later recall that Meade had “expressed his doubts as to my being able to hold so extended a line.” He even agreed with the West Pointer—to a degree. “I replied that I could not, with one corps, hold so extended a line against the rebel army,” Sickles said, “but that, if supported, the line could be held; and, in my judgment, it was a strong line, and the best one.”

Meade was not buying that. He informed his Third Corps commander “that he had advanced his line beyond the support of my army, and that I was very fearful he would be attacked and would lose the artillery, which he had put so far in front, before I could support it, or that if I undertook to support it I would have to abandon all the rest of the line which I had adopted—that is, that I would have to fight the battle out
there where he was.” Sickles told Meade that if he objected to the Third Corps’ deployment, “it was not yet too late to take any position he might indicate.” According to a Meade aide who was present, the army commander considered this possibility for a moment before answering, “‘You cannot hold this position, but the enemy will not let you get away without a fight, & it may begin now as at any time.’”

This exchange was observed by Meade’s artillery chief, Henry Hunt, whose protective prowling of the army’s battery positions had brought him back to the peach orchard. There the Third Corps’ artillery commander, George Randolph, solicited his help in placing some guns. Taking Meade’s presence as a sign that he had approved Sickles’ move, Hunt sent back to the Reserve Artillery for more pieces, because even with every tube in line, there were not enough cannon in Randolph’s arsenal to do the job.

The riders dispatched by Gouverneur K. Warren to bring troops to Little Round Top began delivering their messages. One of the first that Warren had sent reached George Meade just after he left Daniel Sickles. Recognizing the importance of the flank position, and believing that Andrew Humphreys’ division was the closest available, Meade sent instructions directing that command to Little Round Top. Hardly had his staff officer sped away, though, when the army chief learned that a column from the Fifth Corps was already approaching the position in question. A second rider followed the first and countermanded his instructions, but not before Humphreys had already given orders redirecting his two brigades toward the hill. Scarcely blinking, though likely swearing a bit, Humphreys reoriented them back toward the Emmitsburg Road.

Warren’s second messenger found Daniel Sickles, who, not surprisingly, had no troops to spare. Either with Sickles’ blessing or on his own, the courier sought out Major General George Sykes, commanding the Fifth Corps, who consented to help. On meeting with George Meade at around 3:00
P.M.,
Sykes had understood that the Fifth Corps was now being tasked with supporting the left flank, so he unquestioningly agreed to the aide’s request. An orderly was sent off with directions for James Barnes, whose First Division was already marching westward from its reserve position.

Strong Vincent’s brigade was waiting near the George Weikert house on Cemetery Ridge, where it had halted pending new orders. Vincent spotted Sykes’ aide and intercepted him. “Where is General Barnes?” the
staff officer asked. The brigadier had his own agenda, and answered with a question of his own: “What are your orders?” he demanded. “Give me your orders.” “General Sykes told me to direct General Barnes to send one of his brigades to occupy that hill yonder,” the orderly replied, pointing toward Little Round Top. Protocol dictated that Vincent should direct the rider to Barnes and receive his approval, but the brigade commander did not intend to wait. “I will take the responsibility of taking my brigade there,” he said.