Happenings on the Third Day
A Medal for Disobedience
On the afternoon of July 3rd, Captain William E. Miller, of Company H, 2nd Brigade, of Gregg’s Division of Union Cavalry, made a charge against the Confederate Cavalry, in command of Major-General J. E. B. Stuart, in their movement from Cress Ridge, East Cavalry Field, to reach the rear of Meade’s line at the time of Pickett’s Charge.
The incident is described by Captain William Brooke Rawle, a participant in the charge, in his “History of the Third Pennsylvania Cavalry.”
“When the cavalry fighting began, Captain Miller’s squadron was stationed in Lott’s woods to the west of the Low Dutch Road, beyond the Hanover Road, and was deployed, mounted as skirmishers, along the western edge of the woods. There was considerable long-range firing before the climax of the fighting came. About 3 o’clock in the afternoon... a large body of cavalry, which proved to be Hampton’s and Fitzhugh Lee’s brigades, was seen approaching in magnificent order, mounted, from the northern side of the field. Captain Miller and I rode out a few yards in front of our position to a slight rise in the ground to get a good view. The enemy quickened his pace, first to a trot, then to a gallop, and then the charge was sounded. The nearest available compact body of Union Cavalry at hand to meet the enemy was the 1st Michigan Cavalry of General Custer’s brigade, which was serving temporarily under General Gregg. It was ordered to meet the enemy’s charge by a counter-charge, although the Confederate brigade greatly outnumbered the Michigan regiment. Captain Miller and I saw at once that unless more men were sent against the enemy the Michigan regiment would be swept from the field. He said to me, ‘I have been ordered to hold this position at all hazards, but if you will back me up if I get into trouble for exceeding my orders, I will make a charge with the squadron.’ This was in order to make a diversion in favor of our troops, and help the Michigan men. I assured him in an emphatic manner that I would stand by him through thick and thin. He then ordered me to rally the left wing of the squadron while he did the same with the right. When this was done the squadron fired a volley into the Confederate column, which was within easy range. The men were very impatient to begin their charge, and the right wing, headed by Captain Miller, started off at a gallop.
“A stone and rail fence divided the line of the squadron front, running at right angles to it, and I had to make a slight detour to get around it with the left wing of the squadron. This, and the fact that the head of the squadron was headed to the right oblique, caused a gap of some thirty yards or so between the rear of the portion of the squadron under Captain Miller and myself with the left of the left portion. Meanwhile the two opposing columns had met, and the head of the Confederate column was fast becoming jammed, and the men on the flanks were beginning to turn back. Captain Miller, with his men struck the left flank of the enemy’s column pretty well towards the rear, about two-thirds or three-fourths of the way down, and as the impetus of the latter had stopped while his men had full headway on, he drove well into the column and cut off its rear and forced it back in the direction whence it came, and the captain and some of his men got as far as the Rummel house. As to this last, I learned from the men engaged. Captain Miller was wounded in the arm during the fight.
“I myself with the rear portion of Captain Miller’s squadron did not succeed in getting all the way through. Just as I and my men reached the flank of the enemy many of the latter were getting to the rear and we were swept along with the current and scattered, some of us, including myself, though narrowly escaping capture, succeeding in working our way in one’s and two’s to the right, where we got back into our lines again.
“The gallant conduct and dashing charge made by Captain Miller and his men were commented upon by all who saw it. A fact that made it all the more commendable was that it was done upon his own responsibility, without orders from a superior officer.”
In July, 1897, a Congressional Medal of Honor was bestowed upon Captain Miller by direction of President McKinley, through the Secretary of War, General Russell A. Alger. The conferring of this tribute was especially appropriate, inasmuch as General Alger himself had participated on the right flank as the Colonel of the 5th Michigan, and was therefore eminently competent to decide.
The Wentz House
The Wentz house, which stands at the intersection of the Emmitsburg and Wheatfield roads, is now a Government-owned property, and is marked with an iron tablet with the inscription “Wentz House.” It is not the house that was there at the time of the battle; the original building was dismantled and the present building erected on the same site.
At the time of the battle the house was owned and occupied by John Wentz, who cultivated the small tract of land belonging to it. He was twice married, and at this time was living with his second wife, who was the mother of Henry Wentz, the principal actor in an interesting incident of the battle of Gettysburg.
For many years before the beginning of the Civil War, carriage and coach-building was one of the leading industries of Gettysburg. Henry Wentz served an apprenticeship with the Ziegler firm of Gettysburg. He was frequently sent to deliver the products of the firm, and thereby became well acquainted with the different sections where sales were made.
In the early ’50’s he decided to move to Martinsburg, Va. (now W. Va.), and establish a carriage-building shop of his own. When a local military organization was formed and designated the “Martinsburg Blues,” Henry became a member. Equipped with uniforms and arms, the members were drilled from time to time. Similar organizations were formed throughout the North as well as the South. Most of the members of the Martinsburg Blues, including Henry Wentz, decided to cast their lot with the Southern cause, and were assigned to places in the armies of the South. But, by the irony of fate, he was destined to get back to his old home and command a battery posted back of the house on his father’s land.
During the first day the Wentz property was not in danger, but when General Lee extended his line of battle south along the line of Seminary Ridge, and General Meade prolonged his line opposite on Cemetery Ridge in preparation for the battle of the second day, the Wentz family, with the exception of the father, decided to seek a safer location. On the night of the second day, after Sickles’ advanced line at the Wentz house had been repulsed and occupied by the forces under General Lee, Henry Wentz visited his old home and was greatly surprised to find his father still there.
Early in the morning of the third day, 75 guns, in command of Colonel E. P. Alexander, were moved forward from Lee’s first line to the line held by Sickles’ advanced line on the second day. The battery in charge of Henry Wentz, who held the rank of lieutenant, was posted back of his old home, and he took an active part in the terrific artillery engagement prior to Pickett’s Charge that ended on that part of the field. Henry’s father kept to the cellar and, singularly, passed through it all unharmed and unhurt.
After the repulse of Pickett’s Charge, the guns were withdrawn to their first line. During the night of the third day, Henry was anxious to know whether or not his father was still safe. He therefore went over to the house and found him fast asleep and unhurt in a corner of the cellar. Not wishing to disturb his much-needed rest, he found the stump of a candle, lit it, and wrote, “Good-bye and God bless you!” This message he pinned on the lapel of his father’s coat and returned to his command preparatory to the retreat to Virginia.
Early on the morning of the 4th, the father awoke from his much-needed sleep and found that all the soldiers had departed. He then walked back to the ridge and saw Lee’s army making hurried preparations for the retreat.
Fought With a Hatchet
At the battle of Gettysburg the 13th Vermont was a part of General Stannard’s Vermont command. The 2nd Vermont brigade had been left on outpost duty in Virginia until the third day after the Army of the Potomac had passed in pursuit of Lee’s troops into Maryland and Pennsylvania. Then the brigade got orders to proceed by forced marches to join the Army of the Potomac. The latter was also on a forced march, but in six days’ time the Vermonters had overtaken the main body. Just before the first day’s battle, Captain Brown’s command came up to a well, at which was an armed guard. “You can’t get water here,” said the guard. “’Gainst orders.” “Damn your orders!” said Captain Brown, and then with all the canteens of the men, and with only one man to help him, he thrust the guard aside and filled the canteens. His arrest followed, and he was deprived of his sword.
When the battle began, Captain Brown was a prisoner. He begged for a chance to rejoin his company, and was allowed to go. His men were far away at the front, and he had no weapons. He picked up a camp hatchet and ran all the way to the firing-line, reached it, rushed into the fray, and singling out a Rebel officer 50 yards away, penetrated the Rebel ranks, collared the officer, wresting from him his sword and pistol, after which he dropped the hatchet, while his men cheered him amid the storm of bullets and smoke.
When the design for the 13th Vermont monument was made, it was the desire of the committee to have the statue represent Captain Brown, hatchet in hand. Accordingly, a model was prepared, but the Federal Government would not permit its erection. A second model was approved, showing Captain Brown holding a sabre and belt in his hand, the hatchet lying at his feet as though just dropped. The sabre depicted in the statue is an exact reproduction of the one captured.
This monument is on the east side of Hancock Avenue, near the large Stannard monument.
After the Battle
This is an extract from “Four Years with the Army of the Potomac,” by Brigadier-General Regis de Trobriand, who commanded a brigade of Birney’s Division of the 3rd Corps during the battle of Gettysburg:
“Between eight and nine o’clock in the evening of the 3rd, as the last glimmers of daylight disappeared behind us, I received an order to go down into the flat, and occupy the field of battle with two brigades in line. That of Colonel Madill was added to mine for that purpose. General Ward, who temporarily commanded the Division, remained in reserve with the 3rd.
“The most profound calm reigned now, where a few hours before so furious a tempest had raged. The moon, with her smiling face, mounted up in the starry heavens as at Chancellorsville. Her pale light shone equally upon the living and the dead, the little flowers blooming in the grass as well as upon the torn bodies lying in the pools of clotted blood. Dead bodies were everywhere. On no field of battle have I ever seen them in such numbers. The greater part of my line was strewn with them, and, when the arms were stacked and the men asleep, one was unable to say, in that mingling of living and dead, which would awake the next morning and which would not.
“Beyond the line of advanced sentinels, the wounded still lay where they had fallen, calling for assistance or asking for water. Their cries died away without any reply in the silence of the night, for the enemy was close by, and it was a dangerous undertaking to risk advancing into the space which separated us. In making an attempt, an officer of my staff drew three shots, which whistled unpleasantly near his ears. All labors of charity were necessarily put off till the next morning. It is sad to think that this was a sentence of death to numbers of the unfortunate. Mournful thoughts did not hinder the tired soldiers from sleeping. Everything was soon forgotten in a dreamless slumber.
“At dawn of day, when I awakened, the first object which struck my eyes was a young sergeant stretched out on his back, his head resting on a flat stone, serving for a pillow. His position was natural, even graceful. One knee slightly raised, his hands crossed on his breast, a smile on his lips, caused by a dream, perhaps, of her who awaited his return in the distant Green Mountains. He was dead. Wounded, he had sought out this spot in which to die. His haversack was near him. He had taken out of it a little book on which his last looks had been cast, for the book was still open in his stiffened fingers. It was the New Testament; on the first leaf a light hand had traced in pencil, some letters, rubbed out, which one might think were a name. I have kept the volume, and on the white space, to the unknown name I have added, ‘Died at Gettysburg, July 3, 1863.’
“During the night, the enemy had drawn back his pickets to the other side of the Emmitsburg Road, and left us free access to assist the wounded. The appearance of litters and ambulance wagons strengthened them, by giving them hope. They related their engagements of the evening before, and their sufferings during the night. One of them, pointing out the dead lying around him, said: ‘This one lived only till sundown; that one lasted until about midnight. There is one who was still groaning but an hour ago.’
“Continuing my walk, I came near a large isolated rock. It might have been eight or ten feet high, and fifteen or twenty feet broad. Rounding on the side towards the enemy, but flat as a wall on the opposite side, it had served as an advanced post for one of our companies, probably belonging to Stannard’s brigade. What had happened there? Had they been surprised by the rapid advance of the enemy? Had they tried to shelter themselves behind that stone during the fight? Had the firing of canister by our guns rendered retreat impossible? Had they refused to surrender? No one, to my knowledge, escaped to tell. Whatever was the cause, there were twenty lying there cut down by lead and steel, and amongst the pile I recognized the uniform of an officer and the chevrons of a sergeant.
“When I returned to the center of my line, the ambulances were at work, and squads detailed from each regiment picked up the arms which were scattered by thousands over the field. A little later my command was relieved, and again took its position of the evening before.
“Some reconnaissances sent out to look for the enemy had not far to go to find him. His pickets were still on the edge of the woods in front of the Seminary Heights. We afterwards learned that he expected, during the whole day, that we would attack, hoping to get revenge. But General Meade, content with his victory, would not take the risk of compromising it by leaving his position before Lee had abandoned his, in which he acted wisely, whatever may have been said to the contrary.
“The afternoon was thus spent in first picking up our wounded and afterwards those of the enemy. The ambulance wagons were hardly enough for the work. The litter-bearers placed the wounded along our lines, where they had to await their turn to be taken to the rear. We did what we could to make the delay as short as possible, for many of them were brave Southern boys, some having enlisted because they honestly believed it was their duty, others torn by force from their families, to be embodied in the Rebel army by the inexorable conscription. After the defeat, they were resigned, without boasting, and expressed but one wish: that the war would terminate as soon as possible, since the triumph of the North appeared to be but a question of time.
“I recall to mind a young man from Florida who told me his history. His name was Perkins, and he was scarcely twenty years old. The only son of aged parents, he had in vain endeavored to escape service. Tracked everywhere by the agents of the Richmond government, he had been forced to take up the musket, and had done his duty so well that he had been rapidly promoted to sergeant. In the last charge of the day before, he had had his left heel carried away by a piece of shell, and his right hand shattered by a canister shot. One amputation, at least, probably two, was what he had to expect; and yet he did not complain. But when he spoke of his aged parents awaiting his return, and of the sad condition in which he would re-enter the paternal home, his smile was more heart-breaking than any complaint. In order that his wounds might be sooner dressed, one of my aids, Lieutenant Houghton, let him have his horse, at the risk of marching on foot if we moved before he was returned.
“The next night we passed in the rain. It always rains on the day after a great battle. On the morning following we discovered the enemy to be in full retreat. Seeing that the attack he expected did not come off, and fearing for the safety of his communications with the Potomac, General Lee could do nothing else but retire through the mountains, which he did during the night of the 4th and 5th of July. Then only began that disorder in his columns, and that confusion, the picture of which has been somewhat exaggerated; an almost inevitable consequence, besides, to that kind of a movement. Our cavalry began to harass him on the flanks, while the 6th Corps, having remained intact, pressed on his rear-guard.
“The difficulties that General Sedgwick met in the Fairfield pass, where the enemy had intrenched, probably made General Meade fear that a direct pursuit would entail too great loss of time in the mountains. So, instead of following Lee in the valley of the Cumberland, he decided to march on a parallel line, to the east of the South Mountains.”
An Honest Man
General E. P. Alexander, Chief of Artillery of Longstreet’s Corps, tells of a trade that occurred during the retreat from Gettysburg:
“Near Hagerstown I had an experience with an old Dunkard which gave me a high and lasting respect for the people of that faith. My scouts had had a horse transaction with this old gentleman, and he came to see me about it. He made no complaint, but said it was his only horse, and as the scouts had told him we had some hoof-sore horses we should have to leave behind, he came to ask if I would trade him one of those for his horse, as without one his crop would be lost.
“I recognized the old man at once as a born gentleman in his delicate characterization of the transaction as a trade. I was anxious to make the trade as square as circumstances would permit. So I assented to his taking a foot-sore horse, and offered him besides payment in Confederate money. This he respectfully declined. Considering how the recent battle had gone, I waived argument on the point of its value but tried another suggestion. I told him that we were in Maryland as the guests of the United States; that after our departure the Government would pay all bills left behind; and that I would give him an order on the United States for the value of his horse and have it approved by General Longstreet. To my surprise he declined this also. I supposed then that he was simply ignorant of the bonanza in a claim against the Government, and I explained that; and, telling him that money was no object to us under the circumstances, I offered to include the value of his whole farm. He again said he wanted nothing but the foot-sore horse. Still anxious that the war should not grind this poor old fellow in his poverty, I suggested that he take two or three foot-sore horses which we would have to leave anyhow, when we marched. Then he said, ‘Well, sir, I am a Dunkard, and the rule of our church is an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, and a horse for a horse, and I can’t break the rule.’
“I replied that the Lord, who made all horses, knew that a good horse was worth a dozen old battery scrubs; and after some time prevailed on him to take two, by calling one of them a gift. But that night we were awakened about midnight by approaching hoofs, and turned out expecting to receive some order. It was my old Dunkard leading one of his foot-sores. ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘you made it look all right to me today when you were talking; but after I went to bed tonight I got to thinking it all over, and I don’t think I can explain it to the church, and I would rather not try.’ With that he tied old foot-sore to a fence and rode off abruptly. Even at this late day it is a relief to my conscience to tender to his sect this recognition of their integrity and honesty, in lieu of the extra horse which I vainly endeavored to throw into the trade. Their virtues should commend them to all financial institutions in search of incorruptible employees.”
Extracts From the Diary of Colonel Fremantle
Colonel Fremantle, a member of the Cold Stream Guards, was a guest of the Army of Northern Virginia during the Gettysburg campaign. After the battle of Gettysburg, he returned to England and published “Three Months in the Southern States.” The following is a vivid extract, describing a part of the battle from the Confederate lines.
“July 1st (Wednesday). At 4.30 P.M. we came in sight of Gettysburg, and joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one of the ridges which form a peculiar feature of the country round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells. The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently a strong one. His right appeared to rest on a cemetery, on the top of a high ridge to the right of Gettysburg, as we looked at it.
“General Hill now came up and told me he had been very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said he had two divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy four miles into the present position, capturing a great many prisoners, some cannon, and some colors. He said, however, that the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them.
“July 2nd (Thursday). At 2 P.M. General Longstreet advised me, if I wished to have a good view of the battle, to return to my tree of yesterday. I did so and remained there with Lawley and Captain Schreibert during the rest of the afternoon. But until 4.45 P.M. all was profoundly quiet, and we began to doubt whether a fight was coming off today at all. At that time, however, Longstreet suddenly commenced a heavy cannonade on the right. Ewell immediately took it up on the left. The enemy replied with equal fury, and in a few moments the firing along the whole line was as heavy as it is possible to conceive. A dense smoke arose for six miles; there was little wind to drive it away, and the air seemed full of shells—each of which appeared to have a different style of going, and made a different noise from the others. The ordnance on both sides is of a very varied description. Every now and then a caisson would blow up—if a Federal one, a Confederate yell would immediately follow. The Southern troops, when charging, or to express their delight, always yell in a manner peculiar to themselves. The Yankee cheer is much like ours, but the Confederate officers declare that the Rebel yell has a particular merit, and always produces a salutary effect upon their adversaries. A corps is sometimes spoken of as ‘a good yelling regiment.’
“As soon as the firing began, General Lee joined Hill just below our tree, and he remained there nearly all the time, looking through his field-glasses, sometimes talking to Hill and sometimes to Colonel Long of his staff. But generally he sat quite alone on the stump of a tree. What I remarked especially was, that during the whole time the firing continued, he sent only one message, and received only one report. It evidently is his system to arrange the plan thoroughly with the three commanders, and then leave to them the duty of modifying and carrying it out to the best of their abilities.
“When the cannonade was at its height, a Confederate band of music, between the cemetery and ourselves, began to play polkas and waltzes, which sounded very curious, accompanied by the hissing and bursting of the shells.
“At 5.45 all became comparatively quiet on our left and in the cemetery; but volleys of musketry on the right told us that Longstreet’s infantry were advancing, and the onward progress of the smoke showed that he was progressing favorably; but about 6.30 there seemed to be a check, and even a slight retrograde movement.... A little before dark the firing dropped off in every direction, and soon ceased altogether. We then received intelligence that Longstreet had carried everything before him for some time, capturing several batteries and driving the enemy from his positions; but when Hill’s Florida brigade and some other troops gave way, he was forced to abandon a small portion of the ground he had won, together with all the captured guns, except three. His troops, however, bivouacked during the night on ground occupied by the enemy in the morning.
“July 3rd (Friday). At 2.30 P.M., after passing General Lee and his staff, I rode on through the woods in the direction in which I had left Longstreet. I soon began to meet many wounded men returning from the front; many of them asked in piteous tones the way to a doctor or an ambulance. The further I got, the greater became the number of the wounded. At last I came to a perfect stream of them flocking through the woods in numbers as great as the crowd in Oxford Street in the middle of the day. Some were walking alone on crutches composed of two rifles, others were supported by men less badly wounded than themselves, and others carried on stretchers by the ambulance corps, but in no case did I see a sound man helping the wounded to the rear unless he carried the red badge of the ambulance corps. They were still under heavy fire, the shells bringing down great limbs of trees, and carrying further destruction amongst this melancholy procession. I saw all this in much less time than it takes to write it, and although astonished to meet such vast numbers of wounded, I had not seen enough to give me any idea of the real extent of the mischief.
“When I got close up to General Longstreet, I saw one of his regiments advancing through the woods in good order; so, thinking I was just in time to see the attack, I remarked to the General that ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.’ Longstreet was seated at the top of a snake fence at the edge of the woods (Spangler Woods), and looking perfectly calm and unperturbed. He replied, laughing, ‘The devil you wouldn’t! I would like to have missed it very much; we’ve attacked and been repulsed: look there!’
“For the first time I then had a view of the open space between the two positions, and saw it covered with Confederates slowly and sulkily returning towards us in small broken parties, under a heavy fire of artillery. But the fire where we were was not so bad as further to the rear; for although the air seemed alive with shells, yet the greater number burst behind us. The General told me that Pickett’s Division had succeeded in carrying the enemy’s position and captured his guns, but after remaining there twenty minutes, it had been forced to retire on the retreat of Heth and Pettigrew on his left....
“Major Walton was the only officer with him (Longstreet) when I came up—all the rest had been put in the charge. In a few minutes Major Latrobe arrived on foot, carrying his saddle, having just had his horse killed. Colonel Sorrell was also in the same predicament, and Captain Goree’s horse was wounded in the mouth....
“Soon after I joined General Lee, who had in the meanwhile come to that part of the field on becoming aware of the disaster. If Longstreet’s conduct was admirable, that of General Lee was perfectly sublime. He was engaged in rallying and in encouraging the broken troops, and was riding about a little in front of the woods, quite alone—the whole of his staff being engaged in a similar manner further to the rear. His face, which is always placid and cheerful, did not show signs of the slightest disappointment, or annoyance; and he was addressing to every soldier he met a few words of encouragement, such as, ‘All this will come right in the end: we’ll talk it over afterwards; but, in the meantime, all good men must rally. We want all good and true men just now.’ He spoke to all the wounded men that passed him, and the slightly wounded he exhorted ‘to bind up their hurts and take up a musket’ in this emergency. Very few failed to answer his appeal, and I saw many badly wounded men take off their hats and cheer him. He said to me, ‘This has been a sad day for us, Colonel—a sad day; but we can’t expect always to gain victories.’ He was also kind enough to advise me to get into some more sheltered position as the shells were bursting round us with considerable frequency....
“I saw General Wilcox come up to him, and explain, almost crying, the state of his brigade. General Lee immediately shook hands with him and said cheerfully, ‘Never mind, General, all this has been my fault—it is I that have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in the best way you can.’ In this manner I saw General Lee encourage and reanimate his somewhat dispirited troops, and magnanimously take upon his own shoulders the whole weight of the repulse.”