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Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
fragment of
a shell, he refused to act on the advice of Dr. Phillips and go to the hospital for
treatment. But, with his arm bound and carried in a sling, he led the company on that
tiresome march through Maryland, up the rugged steeps of South Mountain, and on to the
battlefield of Antietam where, with Snively, Swartzlander, Scott, Lemon, McLain, Vanlier,
and other brave boys like himself, who fell around the regimental colors, he poured out
his life's blood in defense of the flag.
Who that lay beside this stone wall
when first erected will ever forget the piteous cries for water, that came as an aftermath
of the charge in this swale, from the wounded Confederates who lay in our front. They were
in armed rebellion against the legally-constituted authorities of our
government—sworn enemies of our country, bent on its destruction. But they were our
brothers, and the ethics of our Christian civilization not only forbade that we should
needlessly torture them, but demanded that we should use all reasonable measures to
prevent their suffering, and there was common
assent and approbation when Sergeant McMunn volunteered to carry to those wounded men the
water for which they prayed. But, oh! the cruel treacherous greeting with which that act
of Christian charity was met, in the worse than rebel bullet that came crashing through
his face as he bent to cool with water the burning lips of a wounded, helpless foe. It did
not prove a fatal wound, but it would have been a blessing to our comrade had that bullet
struck a vital spot, for who can measure the depth of pain and sorrow and mental anguish
in which it plunged his after life, at last dethroning reason and ending in his
self-destruction.
I have spoken but of the dead, and
not of the many wounded living who bear in their bodies painful reminders of their
devotion to country and duty, and those of whom I have spoken were not officers of exalted
positions, commanding divisions and army corps, but all of them, at the time of their
enlistment, numbered among the rank and file of the regiment. But I need not say to you
that there marched in the ranks of our volunteer soldiers many who, as to moral and
intellectual force, social standing and all the elements of true nobility of character,
were peers of any and more than peers of many of those to whom they owed obedience in the
line of duty, and do you tell me that these men in the humbler stations who so faithfully
and courageously performed the obligations of their soldier life are deserving of honor or
gratitude in less degree than, those who, by chance or favor, or even by virtue of their
talents, were more exalted in position? Though such a sentiment seems to accord with the
spirit of the times I cannot believe it. The general who rode at the head of the columns
with groom and orderly to pitch his tent where to sleep at night did his duty no more and
no less than the private soldier who, foot-sore and weary, under the burden of his arms
and accoutrements, marched through summer's heat or winter's cold, content to bivouac
under heaven's blue-vault for a tent, with but a single blanket as a martial cloak to shield him from the snows, the rains and the
chilly airs of night.
In a letter which the treasurer of
our association received from the late William Thaw of Pittsburgh, and which accompanied a
liberal contribution toward the erection of this monument, the spirit which animated the
boys of 1861 is referred to, though briefly, in a manner alike eloquent with truth
Pennsylvania
at Gettysburg. 253
and
creditable to the patriotism of that great and good man, and this
suggests a
thought to which it is proper I should refer here.
The State, as you are aware,
appropriated the sum of fifteen hundred dollars to each separate command that participated
in this battle. Your committee, desiring to
erect a more imposing monument than this sum would justify, made an appeal, by circular
letter, to members and friends of the regiment, for contributions to a supplemental fund.
Mr. Thaw who was one of the early patrons of the regiment and especially of Company A, in which he took a special interest, sent his
check for a large contribution, and wrote Mr. Murdock, our treasurer, as follows:
* * * "Meanwhile I send you a
check for five hundred dollars, for the fund for erecting a monument at Gettysburg to the
Ninth Pennsylvania Reserves, as a memorial of Mrs. Thaw to her brother, John S. Copley, killed at South Mountain, September 14,
1862, and from myself also as a memorial of a
large number of personal young friends who went away with the 'Pittsburgh Rifles' (Company
A) that summer morning in 1861 (whom I, with other of their friends and relatives marched
up Penn street by their side), and who never came back, leaving their bodies
scattered—and in some cases unmarked—sacrificed for their country with an
intelligent and spontaneous patriotism such as was not surpassed by any organization that
went into the war."
A few weeks ago, in a foreign city,
the immortal spirit of William Thaw passed from earth to heaven, and but recently his body
was entombed in his native city. While living, because of his generous spirit and
unbounded charities, he was, perhaps, the best loved man in the State of Pennsylvania, and
to-day his memory is enshrined in the hearts of thousands, not only of those who were
sharers of his bounty, but also those who were admirers of his character.
Also, widely known for large
beneficence and purity of life, is the widow to whom, in her sad bereavement, a multitude
of mourning hearts go out in sympathy; and I
know that the hearts of all who are here assembled will respond with quickened impulse to
a sense of gratitude and sympathy when it is learned that this noble woman's present
interest in our organization is born of what to each of us is a sad but hallowed memory of
the war—the heroic death of our brave and worthy comrade, her brother, I feel that I
but meet the wishes and voice the sentiments of all the comrades, when to her, and to all
the friends who have so generously contributed to the erection of this monument, I make
public acknowledgment of their liberality and friendly interest.
This letter of the grand man whose
friendship is one of the memories of which we may well feel proud, refers to an
"intelligent and spontaneous patriotism" as the inspiration that prompted the
young men of the country to respond to the call of duty in 1861. I know there are many of
intensely practical temperament, whose view of life and measure of its duties is bounded
by the narrow circle of selfish interests, desires and pleasures, who cannot comprehend
the full and true meaning of "intelligent patriotism," or understand how such a
sentiment can have a dwelling place in the heart of man. But, thank God, it has pleased
him to implant in the hearts of the great majority of His rational creatures a feeling
that
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Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
patriotism
in its true sense, as signifying those virtues which grow out of a love of country, is as
much a divine attribute in the human soul, as is that love to God and humanity, on which
the Master assures us, "hang all the law and the prophets." Sentiment it may be,
and doubtless is but not such according to Hume and his class 'of metaphysicians—a
mere feeling—but rather a resultant of the co-operation of rational power and moral
feeling. Why, I can no more conceive of those young men—boys in years, but men in
deeds—whose familiar forms rise in memory before me to-day, as I have seen them in
the hour of deadly conflict, their pale faces seamed with the smoke and sweat of
battle—doing, daring, dying for their country. I can no more conceive of them as
being actuated by a wild and irrational impulse or unreasoning sentiment when they
exchanged the comforts of good homes and the companionships of kind friends, for the
rough, bare and common dangers of a soldiers' life, than I can conceive of them as being
moved by mercenary considerations in abandoning profitable and congenial employments for
the distasteful and profitless calling of arms. Say if you will, that they were moved by
sentiment. It was such a one as has been the inspiration of martyrs and patriots in all
ages of the world, when they have counted their lives as nothing in comparison with their
convictions of right and the demands of duty. Such a sentiment as has proved an
inspiration to the noblest deeds of philanthropy, of which the world has had knowledge,
and through which mankind has been blessed.
The liberal contribution which
accompanies this letter from our honored friend, whose lips are now sealed in death,
coming as it does as the joint gift of husband and wife, suggests a thought which very
seldom receives that consideration its importance demands, and this is, that there were
heroines as well as heroes in our civil war; and they apart from the many noble women,
whose heaven-born mission led them as ministering angels to hospital and battlefield,
where with tender loving care they nursed the sick, or prayed beside the couch of dying
soldier boys.
We are apt in estimating the cost as
well as in apportioning the honors of the civil war, to become so absorbed in the
financial and military problems wrought out in halls of legislation and on the battlefield
to overlook the patient, though silent, influence that went out from the home circles of
our land, where mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts, toiled with willing hands and
prayed with fervent spirits in our behalf. Many of you have heard one of our comrades tell
how, having enlisted when under age, his father tried to prevent him from continuing in
the service. During his first visit to camp the father failed to shake the boy's purpose,
and the day following he returned, bringing his wife along to plead for their sons return.
Failing again to make the desired impression, and finding that a threat to exercise his
legal authority to compel the boy to return home was of no avail, the father turned in
despair to the little woman at his side. Reaching up and placing her hands on the broad
shoulders of her boy, she said: "My son, you are dearer to me than the apple of mine
eye, and yet if you feel it to be your duty to enlist and should fail to respond to your
country's call, in this hour of the nation's peril, all I can say, is, you would then have
none of your mother's blood in your veins."
Pennsylvania
at Gettysburg. 255
Who can tell
how much that feeling of patriotism referred to in the letter of William Thaw as the
animating spirit of the boys of 1861 was inspired, encouraged and controlled by the loyal
women of our land, and to what extent its spontaneity was owing to their active earnest
sympathy and efforts. And is it not true that the tiresome march was made with less
fatigue, that privations were borne more willingly, and dangers encountered with courage strengthened because of loved ones
praying for our safety and the triumph of our
cause?
We rejoiced that they were far
removed from the scene of conflict and were blessed with comforts to us denied; but he has
yet to learn the depth and power of woman's
love, who knows, not, that, in sleepless nights, in anxious fears, in patient waitings and
in bitter sorrow for the loved ones lost, they suffered more than tongue can tell. God
bless these mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts of the war in whose approving smiles
and sympathizing hearts we found such patient inspiration in the path of duty and the hour
of danger.
But, comrades, the hours of the day
are passing, many years have come and gone since first we looked upon the field of Gettysburg; and this is, perhaps, the last time
that, as an organization, we shall gather here.
Without pretense to powers of
divination, I think I may safely say your minds have largely dwelt to-day upon the strange
and striking contrast between the scene as here presented and that which met the view when
first we came upon this field. Then this ground, crimsoned with the mingling blood of
friend and foe, trembled beneath the shock of battle as hostile forces charged and
counter-charged across these fields. These hills were ablaze with the very flame of death
as it belched from cannon mouth. The air was
rent with cannon roar, with shriek of bursting shell and
whistling bullets sound, all playing to the sad accompaniment of moan, and groan,
and prayer, and imprecation from the lips of wounded, dying men, while from out the
pandemonium, none knew how soon might come to him the summons to
"Take his chamber in the silent
halls of death."
To-day the air is filled with
peaceful sounds and odors. The ripened harvests have been gathered from the fields where
the reaper death mowed with bloody scythe and fiendish joy the cannon's swath. The chirp
and song of bird are undisturbed by gun report or shout of hostile army, and everywhere around we may see a token of that
promised coming of the Lord, when sword and spear, the implements of war, shall be beaten
into share of plough and pruning hook. "When nation shall not lift up sword against
nation, neither shall they learn war any more."
Until we shall behold the glory of
this prophetic vision, may we not indulge the hope and prayer that never again may we be
called upon to resort to the dread arbitrament of arms to defend the honor of our
country's flag.
And now, comrades, as we part to-day,
what thought or lesson of the our shall we take with us to our homes to serve as an
incentive to renewed devotion in the line-of patriotic duty?
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Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
When the first great leader and
lawgiver of the children of Israel was laid to rest, "in a vale in the land of
Moab," Joshua, his successor, directed as the host were passing over Jordan, in the
presence of the priests who bore aloft the ark of the covenant of the Lord, that twelve
men be chosen-one from each of the tribes that had journeyed in the wilderness, and that
these men take, each, a stone from the bed of the river where the bearers of the ark had
stood, and that these stones be carried to the place on the east side of Jordan where they
should encamp that night, and be there erected as a memorial unto the children of Israel
forever. Not as testifying to the courage and
endurance of the chosen people who had wandered for forty years in a barren land, but as
testifying to the mightiness of God and his faithfulness in the fulfilment of his
promises. And when the stones were placed as directed, Joshua spake unto the people
saying:
"When your children shall ask
their fathers, in time to come, saying what mean these stones?
"Then
ye shall let your children know, saying, Israel came over this Jordan on dry land."
"That all the people of the
earth might know the hand of the Lord, that it is mighty."
Standing within the shadow of these
hills which were silent witnesses fit the contest waged here in the ever-to-be-remembered
past, and in the presence of this monument which speaks of where we stood in that hour of
trial and danger, and seeing the sculptured granite with which this field is dotted, may
we not imagine our children and our children's children in the years to-come, asking their
fathers, as did the Israelitish children of old: "What mean these stones?"
Truly may it be said to them that
"the hand of the Lord is mighty" and though they may not be told that their
fathers "came over this on dry land," but rather on ground drenched with the
blood of wounded and slain comrades, yet may it be said they stood here devoted to the
cause of human liberty and upholding the "Ark of our Covenant" of Perpetual
Union; and if ever the unrighteous hand of political ambition shall again remove that ark
from our midst may worse than Assyrian calamities afflict the plunderers till our treasure
be restored. If ever the genius of human liberty be driven from our shores, like Noah's
dove may she find no rest for the soles of her feet until she return and find a glad
people ready and willing to receive, to cherish and to love her.
As testifying to the restoration of
that Ark of our Covenant—to the reenthonement of that presiding genius of our nation,
and to the heroic endeavors of those who, under God's favor—though it may have been
tears, in sorrow and blood, wrought out the triumph of a righteous cause , may this
monument remain a memorial unto your children forever.
Pennsylvania
at Gettysburg. 257
ADDRESS OF SERGEANT-MAJOR A. P.
MORRISON.
TWENTY-SIX years have swiftly rolled
away, old comrades of the "Ninth," since we stood here on this very spot in
battle line, bearing our part in that momentous three-days' struggle between the armies of
the North and South, which history has already recognized and recorded as one of those
great battles of the world, which change or fix and determine the destinies of nations,
and the character of their civil institutions for all time. •
Here, on this bloody field of
Gettysburg, the surging tide of "Secession" was stayed and turned back, and the
"union" of these states was saved from impending dissolution, and for all time
made sure and strong. Here the most costly sacrifice of patriot blood was poured out a
willing offering by the nation's sons, to the end that this great nation might live, and
continue to live on and on, "to the last syllable of recorded time."
Yes, comrades, the "Ninth"
stood here then, in name and fame strong as in other days of battle, to meet the
foe—but in numbers how reduced. Where now—in this the very crisis of the great
conflict—where now, are those ten hundred men and more, who two short years before
had marched beneath the battalion banner of the "Ninth," with bounding hearts
and buoyant step, away from home and friends, and all the joys of peaceful
life, to battle for the right?
Here, but a handful of those brave
ones stood to meet the onset of the impetuous foe, whose feet had dared invade the borders
of their native State. Where had the others gone? Let Dranesville tell; let the gory
fields of the seven-days' fight from Beaver Dam to Malvern Hill make truthful answers. Let
the fierce fighting in the Pope campaign from Rappahannock's banks to Chantilly's woods be
heard—let South Mountain and Antietam mournfully reply; and Fredericksburg with
solemn voice from hill and plain, report the number of the fallen there—let all the
wearing marches and the exhausting toils of duty in the field, whether the summer sun was
scorching, or the frosts and piercing winds of winter chilled the lonely Picket's
blood—let all that this imports of hardships and physical disability and sickness
unto death, make up account for the absent ones of this great day.
Ah, comrades, what a small space of
ground among these grey and rugged rocks and boulders, could our good regiment cover and
fight for and defend when the "battle was set in array," on that second and
third day of July, 1863. Its ten companies, all told, could only place about three hundred
men in line.
We believed in the inherent, and
ever-abiding justice of the cause fol which we fought. We felt in our inmost being, then,
as ever, that,
"Right is right—since God is
God,
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter, would be sin."
And, notwithstanding its depleted
ranks, the "Ninth" went forward to its place in the line of battle, as steadily
and firmly as if it had been itself whole army corps.
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Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
In the Gettysburg campaign the glory
of our regiment, and of the brigade as well, consisted not so much in what might be called
the actual clash of arms in conflict with the rebels, as in its always getting to the
right place, however perilous that place might be, at the right time—however long and
exhausting the marches, the effort might require—and in its tenaciously holding the
position to which it was assigned, against the very flower of the Confederate army.
The march from the defenses of
Washington, begun on the 25th of June, to the battlefield of Gettysburg, not far from
Little Round Top-taking into consideration the frequent, almost incessant, rains, and
the heavy and slippery condition of the roads—was a very remarkable one indeed. It
tested the vigor and endurance of the men to the utmost limit of their strength. If in the
daytime we moved slowly and with difficulty through fields and woods, guarding, it might
be, long trains of ammunition and supplies or batteries of heavy guns, which occupied and
oftentimes blocked up the soft and deeply-rutted roads, when the sun went down we were
pushed forward far into the night to make up for our retarded progress in the day.
To you all, soldiers of the
"Ninth," I need not enter into details of that seven-days' march. Here, on this
historic spot, where its goal was reached, it comes back to every mind, with all its
incidents fresh and vividly as if a thing of yesterday. But you will bear with me while I
read from the dim and faded pages of my own little pocket diary these few brief extracts
of memoranda relating to that march:
June 24th, 1863. Our regiment was
lying quietly at Vienna.
On the evening of that day we got
orders to rejoin our brigade at Upton's Hill some eight miles back. We marched about 9
o'clock and reached our destination a little after midnight.
Thursday, June 25th. The
"Ninth" marching with the brigade at 1 o'clock p. m., moved out in the direction
of Vienna on the same road we of the "Ninth" had come in on the night before,
and halted not far from where we had been
encamped. This marching up the hill simply to march down again did not seem exactly right
to our boys. It meant for them sixteen miles of unnecessary tramping through the rain.
Friday, 26th. Reveille at 4 o'clock
in the morning; on the march at 6. Raining hard all day; roads very slippery and heavy.
Made about sixteen miles and halted in the evening at Goose creek not very far from
Edwards' Ferry.
Saturday, 27th. Reveille at 4
o'clock; to march at 5. Crossed the Potomac at Edwards' Perry on a pontoon bridge and
found ourselves once more in Maryland, a part of Hooker's army. Day showery and roads
muddy. Halted at night near the mouth of the
Monacacy river having made at least fifteen miles.
Sunday, 28th. Reveille at 3.30; on
the march at 5; crossed the Monocacy; day cloudy with a little rain; joined the Fifth Army
Corps; our "Pennsylvania Reserves" having been assigned to that corps on the
request of General Meade, its then commander; halted near Frederick after marching about
twelve miles. Here we learned of the appointment of General Meade to the command of the
"Army of the Potomac." Great news this for us
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at Gettysburg. 259
of the
Pennsylvania Reserve Corps. We were proud to know that one of own generals, one for whom
we felt that we had won the "stars." should be placed in this very highest
position in the army in the very crisis of the nation's fate.
We had confidence in him for we knew
him to be an energetic, brave, cool and determined leader.
Monday, 29th. Reveille again at 4 a.
m.; the "Ninth" fell in about 8,
but did not move forward until about 1, and then marched slowly all the afternoon; the day
was rainy and the road was filled up with wagon trains; about 6 o'clock in the evening the
road was cleared before us and we started off almost on a "double-quick;"
crossed the Monocacy and turned directly northward towards Pennsylvania, marching over
very bad country roads; halted about midnight, having made some fifteen miles.
Tuesday, June 30th. Reveille at 4
o'clock; it rained on us very hard last night and this morning; marched at 7 a. m.; found
the road exceedingly heavy and slippery; passed through Liberty, Johnsville, Union Bridge,
Union, and halted near Union Mills, having made a big day's march, not less than twenty
miles; the "Reserves" are all in high spirits about going into Pennsylvania.
Wednesday, July 1st. On the march by
6.30 this morning, moving rather slowly all day; crossed the State line into old
Pennsylvania about 4 p. m. amid glad cheering and loud hurrahs; heard the dull boom of
distant cannon from time to time, but did not then know that the great battle was already
on; about 6.30 o'clock in the evening the division was massed, rations were issued and
extra ammunition distributed to the men, and all signs indicated a coming fight; there was
not much rest in this short halt, and by 8 o'clock we were again on the move; marched on
without stopping until about 2 o'clock of the morning of the 2d, halting at last, after
passing through Hanover, near McSherrystown.
Thursday, July 2d. After only two
hours rest, reveille at 4 a. m., and marched immediately without waiting even to make a
cup of coffee. Pretty hard this, but the weary men now understanding that the emergency
was pressing, and forgetting the want of much-needed sleep and food and rest, Pushed
forward cheerfully and eagerly toward what they knew must be a bloody battle. After
marching about an hour we were halted long enough to make our coffee, and then once more
moved rapidly forward until about 10 o'clock we reached Rock creek, some two miles
southeast of the town of Gettysburg. Here we learned of the disastrous fortunes of the
preceding day to the Union forces, and worst news of all, the untimely death of one of our
best loved generals, one whom the Pennsylvania Reserve Volunteer Corps was proud to have
claimed as its own commander—the beau ideal soldier, the gallant General
Reynolds.
From 7 o'clock a. m., of July 1st to
11 o'clock on the 2d, twenty-eight hours, with only about three hours given to sleep and
rest, our regiment had marched forty-two miles. Is it any wonder that when the halt was
sounded the weary men threw themselves upon the ground, under that burning July sun and
slept away the hours, while the battle was preparing?
About 4 o'clock in the afternoon the
fiery storm suddenly burst in fierce fury on Sickles' Third Corps. Immediately the Fifth
under Sykes was
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Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
hurried
forward to the succor of the Third, then badly broken up and forced back in shattered
fragments from its too-far-advanced position. It must have been about 5 o'clock when our
division, the Third of Sykes' Corps under the gallant General Crawford, passed over the
crest of the ridge out yonder to the right of Little Round Top, and first came under fire.
How vividly the fearful scene of that dread hour comes back to you old soldiers of the
"Ninth," as you now look out over yonder quiet woods and peaceful fields. The
sun, a dull, red ball of fire, was going down "wrapped in drifts of lurid
smoke." The appalling roar of cannon; the screaming shells exploding in mid-air; the
sharp rattling and continuous crash of infantry firing; the charging masses of the enemy;
the broken columns of our side slowly falling back, contesting every foot of ground, and
yielding one position only to make a more stubborn stand for another; the whole atmosphere
thick and heavy with the sulphurous smoke of battle. Yon field of ripened grain just ready
for the harvest, "blasted below the dun hot breath of war."
Oh, comrades, it was not a cheering
scene that then opened on our view! On the contrary, we might truly say that at that
moment "disaster stared us in the face." The two brigades of United States
Infantry, the "Regulars," had just advanced across yon piece of level ground,
while our two brigades of Pennsylvania Reserves, by General Crawford's orders were
"massed in column by division," in the open space just north of this rocky spur
of Round Top.”
Vincent, and O'Rorke, and Hazlett,
and Weed, with their gallant commands, had but a few moments before wrested this
master-post of Little Round Top from the grasp of Hood.
But, oh! at what a cost! Vincent and
O'Rorke, Hazlett and Weed, all four, lay dead upon this mount of glory.
The question then was, could the
survivors of the terrible struggle to secure this vantage ground, thus bereft of all their
leaders, could they withstand another impending charge of the now exultant rebels? The,
stake was great, too great to be left in doubt.
Humphreys was "changing front to
the rear," but to no good purpose. Sweitzer's Brigade fiercely beset on its flank and
rear was forced from its position. The "Regulars," attacked in front and flank,
were compelled to fall back.
You all remember how they looked. How
firmly they held themselves together, firing and falling back, firing and falling back,
their front diminishing at every volley until only one-half of their charging column was
left to fire!
It was just at this critical moment
that our gallant General Crawford put his two brigades of Pennsylvania' Reserves in
motion, our Third Brigade in front. Advancing rapidly we were very soon within range and
under a heavy fire from the enemy. But we had not gone more than fifty yards when the
urgent call for reinforcement for the few survivors of the gallant regiments that had at
such a heavy cost plucked Little Round Top from the clutch of Hood and his Confederate
veterans—and who now crippled, and exhausted by the deadly struggle, their leaders
cold in death, still lying where they fell, awaited among these rocks and on this rugged
Pennsylvania
at Gettysburg. 261
hill, the
still more desperate charge the baffled rebels were preparing to overwhelm their decimated
ranks and seize this granite key of the battlefield—reached General Crawford. He
was not slow in responding to the call. Ours, the leading brigade, was halted and ordered
to go at once to the succor, of the exhausted comrades of the Vincent and O'Rorke
commands. Without a moment's delay, the Fifth, Ninth, Tenth and Twelfth Regiments of
Reserves changed direction and moved by the left flank, almost on a double-quick over the
hill to this, its western slope, and joined the remnant of Vincent's Battalion. The
movement was in the very nick of time. The plan of Hood and Law, to seize the "coigne
of vantage," was foiled, for with accession of Fisher's Brigade to the gallant men
who had so desperately fought for and so tenaciously held this almost impregnable
position, any new attack would be madness, and could only result in a repulse more
sanguinary and crushing than the first had been.
Little Round Top, found and
proclaimed by Warren to be the key to the whole Union battle line, was saved—and
safe—for General Meade, whatever might befall on other portions of the field.
A little later when darkness had
settled over these woods, the Fifth and Twelfth Regiments were taken by Colonel Fisher,
with other troops, to drive the enemy from Round Top and occupy its Iofty summit, while
the Ninth and Tenth were left to hold and guard this gap which Hood and Law had deemed
their open gateway to our left and rear. We did not then know the supreme importance of
the position we had to protect, but we do know now from General Hill's official report
that "Hood's right was held as in a vise."
About 10 o'clock that night, our line
being established and our pickets set a few yards in advance, we lay down, each soldier in
his place and "with all his armor on" ready for any night attack the rebels
might attempt; and notwithstanding an occasional shot from a picket post to remind us of
impending danger, and the pitiful moaning of the wounded all around us, we slept as only
exhausted soldiers can. With the earliest dawn of day on July 3d, our line was up and on
the elert. How vigorously you all worked, comrades, on this stone wall! A labor of love it
was, of love of life, if honor, of country; for well you knew how this low breastwork,
rude and rough in form, might help to gain and save them all, in the storm of battle that
then seemed sure to burst upon us ere the sun was high.
And here we lay all that long summer
day awaiting calmly, yea hoping, for the charging columns of the rebels. But no attack in
force was made on our position. Skirmish firing in our front and the crack of the
sharp-shooters' rifles were the only sounds of war that broke the stillness of these
woods, until, sudden as a flash of lightning in the sultry afternoon, these "rock
ribbed hills" were made to shake and quiver by that terrific roar of three hundred
cannon thundering from the opposing lines. Oh! how great and grand it was, and yet how
dreadful. These rocks and woods that seemed to promise refuge and safety became an added
element of danger when the iron hail that filled the air cut of large limbs from these
tall trees and hurled among us granite fragments whenever a heavy round shot struck and
shattered some protruding boulder. But with all that fearful shelling the casualties in
the Ninth were very few. The records
262
Pennsylvania at Gettysburg.
show we had
but two men killed and five men wounded in this great battle.
But the wounding of one of our
comrades, one who but lately, "after life's fitful fever," has gone to his long
rest, was an incident of that day which may have special mention. Here it was, right here,
that brave and generous Sergeant McMunn of Company G, moved only by an impulse of pity for
a suffering man, laying aside his gun and holding up his hand in token that he went only
on a deed of peace and mercy, stepped out from the protection of our wall of stones, to
carry to the parched lips of a sorely wounded foe, a cup of water. And while bending over
the death-stricken body of the rebel soldier in this ministration of pity and
compassion, a bullet from the rifle of some ruthless rebel sharpshooter hidden in the
tree top crushed through his face. It was a most dastardly deed! But sudden and sure
vengeance followed on the instant, and the rebel miscreant fell pierced by more than one
ball from the sergeant's comrades of Company G.
The battle ended with the setting sun
of that third day of mighty conflict and slaughter, and victory at last rested with the
side which was contending for the righteous cause of our national unity and the
perpetuation of that beneficent system of government which had been handed down to us, a
precious legacy, by the patriot fathers, the wise and far-seeing statesmen and sages of
the old Revolutionary times.
When the morning sunlight gilded
these mountain heights and rugged rocks, and spread in splendor over all these
blood-stained plains and ridges, on that 4th day of July, 1863, the ever-joyous
anniversary of our nation's natal day, the nation's existence which had been ruthlessly
threatened and imperiled by its Confederate enemies, was once more firmly established on
its sure foundation, its underlying corner-stone, strong and enduring as this great rock
of Round Top under whose shadow we now stand—that ever living principle which appeals
to the common sense of the common people among all races and in all times—the
principle, namely, "of government of the people, by the people, for the people."
That, comrades, was the great stake
for which we of the Union army battled here and on a hundred other glorious fields all
over the Union's wide extended realm.
And may I not now, after the lapse of
these many years, adopt the beautiful language of Edward Everett, the venerable and
eloquent orator on the occasion of the dedication, a quarter of a century ago, of yonder
National Cemetery to the sacred dust of the martyr heroes who gave up their lives,
"that wheresoever throughout the civilized world the accounts of that great warfare
are read, and down to the latest period of recorded time, in the glorious annals of our
common country, there will be no brighter page than that which relates The Battle of
Gettysburg.”
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