150 years ago today, around 3 PM, some 12,000 Confederate soldiers, “stepped off” on a death march into a hailstorm of lead and canister shot poured into their ranks from well dug-in Union positions and artillery batteries on the outskirts of a little Pennsylvania town called Gettysburg.
Those doomed Confederate troops would walk nearly three-quarters of a mile — over open ground — with no cover of any kind, while the union forces poured lead into their ranks toppling bodies like a scythe in a wheat field.
The Confederates were slaughtered. It was the turning point of The War Between the States.
Gen. James Longstreet was unhappy with Gen. Robert E. Lee’s command to attack the Union positions. When it came time for him to issue the order for George Pickett to take his men across that great killing field, he simply could not bring himself to say the words. He merely nodded with bowed head. Pickett ordered his men into the sluice of death, in line abreast, extending nearly a mile in breadth.
In less than an hour it was over. That field was littered with Confederate dead. Over half of Pickett’s Division lay dead upon the field… over three thousand men. All 15 regimental commanders, including two Brigadier General’s and six Colonel’s were dead. Their skill, their experience, gone forever.
When George Pickett finally made his way to Lee, Lee ordered him to prepare his Division for a possible Union counter attack. Pickett replied to Lee: “Sir. I HAVE no Division!”
Pickett never forgave Lee.
Union forces did not counter attack — their commanders not wishing to face the still formidable Confederate forces nor the Confederate artillery dug-in on Seminary Ridge.
The next morning, the morning of July 4th, 1863, dawned dark and foreboding with skies that soon opened with torrents of rain. Lee seized the opportunity and retreated.
It still hurts.
Some few years ago, I stood in the cemetery of a small, rural, southeastern North Carolina church and helped to dedicate six granite Confederate Veteran Grave Markers for six “Heroes of the South” who were veterans of the Confederate Army.
As the exceedingly bright September afternoon sunlight shone down upon those gathered for this solemn ceremony, three flags snapped in the strong fall breeze as it danced it’s way across the cemetery embracing each stone in turn, and forcing our flags to flutter and, at times, stand straight out with their halyard as taunt as a bow string.
At the top of the flagstaff was the Stars and Stripes, the flag of our country, the United States of America. Just below “Old Glory” was the state flag of our state, the state of North Carolina, and directly below that was the Confederate Battle Flag, the flag of no country, and no state, just a battle field ensign, but… it was the flag under which the men we honored had marched and fought and died.
As I spoke to those assembled on that sacred ground, I let my eyes drift casually over the onlookers. I saw one child, a little sandy-headed boy, about 4 maybe 5 years of age. He was the only youngster there.
I thought, that young man needs to hear this, he needs to have his parents tell him what all this color and honor means. He needs to be told… before it is too late.
More @ The Constitution Club
Why am I sitting in my car, in my works parking lot, choking back tears trying not to cry...
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone, my kind Sir.
Delete"For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it is the instant when it is still not yet two o'clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it's all in the balance, it hasn't happened yet, it hasn't even begun yet, it not only hasn't begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against that position and those circumstances which made more men than Garnett and Kemper and Armstead and Wilcox look grave yet it's going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn't need even a fourteen year old boy to think this time. Maybe this time with all this much to lose and all this much to gain: Pennsylvania, Maryland, the world, the golden dome of Washington itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made two years ago......"
William Faulkner
On Gettysburg
http://www.namsouth.com/viewtopic.php?t=148&highlight=faulkner