The Battle of Gettysburg

The following account was written by captain Henry T. Owen, 18th Virginia Infantry, Garnett's Brigade, Pickett's Division. It originally appeared in the Philadelphia Weekly Press.

The command now came along the line, "Front, forward!" and the column resumed its direction straight down upon the centre of the enemy's position. The destruction of life in the ranks of that advancing host was fearful beyond precedent, officers going down by dozens and the men by scores and fifties.

We were now four hundred yards from the foot of Cemetery Hill, when away off to the right, nearly half a mile, there appeared in the open field a line of men at right angles with our own, a long, dark mass, dressed in blue, and coming down at a "double-quick" upon the unprotected right flank of Pickett's men, with their muskets "upon the right shoulder shift," their battle flags dancing and fluttering in the breeze created by their own rapid motion, and their burnished bayonets glistening above their heads like forest twigs covered with sheets of sparkling ice when shaken by a blast. The enemy were now seen strengthening their lines where the blow was expected to strike by hurrying up reserves from the right and left, the columns from opposite directions passing each other double along our front like the fingers of a man's two fingers locking together. The distance had again shortened and officers in the enemy's lines could be distinguished by their uniforms from the privates. Then was heard that heavy thud of a muffled tread of armed men that roar and rush of tramping feet as Armistead's column from the rear closed up behind the front line and he (the last brigadier) took command, stepped out in front with his hat uplifted on the point of his sword and led the division, now four ranks deep, rapidly and grandly across that valley of death, covered with clover as soft as a Turkish carpet.

There it was again! and again! A sound filling the air above, below, around us, like the blast through the top of a dry cedar or the whirring sound made by the sudden flight of a flock of quail. It was grape and canister, and the column broke forward into a double quick and rushed toward the stone wall where forty cannon were belching forth grape and canister twice and thrice a minute. A hundred yards from the stone wall the flanking party on the right, coming down on a heavy nun, halted suddenly within fifty yards and poured a deadly storm of musket balls into Pickett's men, double-quicking across their front, and, under this terrible cross fire the men reeled and staggered between falling comrades and the right came pressing down upon the centre, crowding the companies into confusion. But all knew the purpose to carry the heights in front, and the mingled mass, from fifteen to thirty feet deep, rushed toward the stone wall, while a few hundred men, without orders, faced to the right and fought the flanking party there, although fifty to one, and for a time held them at bay. Muskets were seen crossed as some fired to the right, and others to the front and the fighting was terrific—far beyond all other experience even of Pickett's men, who for once raised no cheer, while the welkin rang around them with the "Union triple huzza." The old veterans saw the fearful odds against them and other hosts gathering darker and deeper still.

The time was too precious, too serious for a cheer; they buckled down to the heavy task in silence, and fought with a feeling like despair. On swept the column over ground covered with dead and dying men, where the earth seemed to be on fire, the smoke dense and suffocating, the stun shut out, flames blazing on every side, friend could hardly be distinguished from foe, but the division, in the shape of an inverted V, with the point flattened, pushed forward, fighting, falling and melting away, till half way up the hill they were met by a powerful body of fresh troops, charging down upon them, and this remnant of about a thousand men was hurled back-out into the clover field. Brave Armistead was down among the enemy's guns, mortally wounded.

CAPTAIN HENRY THWEATT OWEN, COMPANY C, 18TH VIRGNIA INFANTRY (GNMP)

Near Gettysburg, July 6, 1863

My Dear Papa,

When our great victory was just over the exultation of victory was so great that one didn't think of our fearful losses, but now I can't help feeling a great weight at my heart. Poor Henry Ropes was one of the dearest fiends I ever had or expect to have. His loss is terrible. His men actually wept when they showed me his body, even under the tremendous cannonade, a time when most soldiers see their comrades dying around them with indifference.

Indeed with only two officers besides myself remaining, I can't help feeling a little spooney when I am thinking, & you know I am not at all a lachrymose individual in general. However I think we can run the machine. Our losses are of—13 officers, 3 killed, 7 wounded. Of 231 enlisted men, 30 killed, 84 wounded, 3 missing, total 117, with officers, aggregate 127.

The enemy, after a morning of quiet on our part of the line (a little to the right of the left center) began the most terrific cannonade, with a converging fire of 150 pieces, that I have ever heard in my life & kept it up for 2 hours, almost entirely disabling our batteries, killing & wounding over half the officers & men [of the artillery] & silencing most of the guns. The thin line of our division against which it was directed was very well shielded by a little rut they lay in & in front of our brigade by a little pit, just one foot deep & one foot high, thrown up hastily by one shovel, but principally by the fact that it is very difficult to hit a single line of troops, so that the enemy chiefly threw over us with the intention of disabling the batteries & the reserves which they supposed to be massed in the rear of the batteries, in the depression of the hill.

The rebels thus left us entirely unsupported & advanced with perfect confidence after ceasing their artillery—our artillery being so knocked up that only one or two shots were fired into them, which, however, were very well aimed, & we could see [the shots] tumble over squads in the rebel lines. Had our batteries been intact, the rebels would never have got up to our musketry, for they were obliged to come out of the woods & advance from a half to 3/4 of a mile over an open field & in plain sight. A magnificent sight it was too. Two brigades in two lines, their skirmishers driving in ours.

The moment I saw them I knew we should give them Fredericksburg. So did every body. We let the regiment in front of us get within 100 feet of us, & then bowled them over like nine pins, picking out the colors first. In two minutes there were only groups of two or three men running round wildly, like chickens with their heads off. We were cheering like mad, when Macy directed my attention to a spot 3 or 4 rods on our right where there were no pits, only a rail fence, Baxter's Pennsylvania men had most disgracefully broken, & the rebels were within our line. The order was immediately given to fall back far enough to form another line & prevent us [from] being flanked. Without however waiting for that, the danger was so imminent that I had rushed my company immediately up to the gap, & the regiment & the rest of the brigade, being there some before & the rest as quick as they could. The rail fence checked the main advance of the enemy & they stood, both sides pegging away into each other.

The rows of dead after the battle I found to be within 15 and 20 feet apart, as near hand to hand fighting as I ever care to see. The rebels behaved with as much pluck as any men in the world could; they stood there, against the fence, until they were nearly all shot down. The rebels' batteries, seeing how the thing was going, pitched shell into us all the time, with great disregard of their own friends who were so disagreeably near us.

The field was mostly open where we were with scarcely a perceptible rise, commanded by the rebel side: on the center a little wooded, still better commanded by the rebel side; on the right, I am told, wooded & rocky, both parties contending for the slopes towards us . . . . Moreover, our line of retreat was so narrow that it was easy, if our left was turned, to cut us off from it. Had the rebels driven in our left (they twice tried it & I have told you how near they came to it) it would have been all up with us.

The advantages of our position were that the comdg. general could over look almost the whole line, a rare thing in this country, & that moving on the chord of the circle while the enemy moved on the arc, we could reinforce any part of the line from any other part much quicker than they could, an advantage which Meade availed himself of admirably in the first day's rebel attack, but which their shell fire prevented him from doing in the second day's.

My love of course to all the family including George (Perry) and Mary Welch.

Your aff. son,
H. L. Abbott

MAJOR HENRY LIVERMORE ABBOTT, 20TH MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY (LETTER REPRINTED FROM FALLEN LEAVES: THE CIVIL WAR LETTERS OF MAJOR HENRY LIVERMORE ABBOTT, COURTESY OF KENT STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS)