The Sun.
London, England, 1863-08-13 00:00:00

forward for nearly a mile, driving the enemy before him
and up to his very guns, over and beyond his batteries, seve-
ral guns of which he captured, and nearly up to to, summit
of the hill, Wright had swept over the valley order a ter-
rific fire from the enemy's batteries, posted it:, n M'Pher-
son's heights, had encountered the eneat , ' dvance line,
and had driven him across the Emmetsbur ; ike to a posi-
tion behind a stone wall or fence which ru parallel with
the pike, and about 60 or 80 yards in front of the batteries
on the heights and immediately under them. Here this
gallant brigade had a most desperate engagement for 15 or
20 minutes ; but charging rapidly up the almost perpendi-
cular side of the mountain, they rushed upon the enemy's
infantry behind the stone wall, and drove them from it
at the point of the bayonet. Now concentrating their
fire upon the heavy batteries (20 guns) of the enemy on the
crest of the heights, they soon silenced them, and rushing
forward with a shout, soon gained the summit of the heights,
capturing all the enemy's guns, and driving their infantry
in great disorder and confusion into the woods beyond.
We now had the key to the enemy's stronghold, and ap-
parently the victory was won. M‘Laws and Hood had
pushed their line well up the slope on the right; Wilcox
had kept well up on his portion of the line ; Wright had
pierced the enemy's main line on the summit of M‘Pher-
son's Heights, capturing his heavy batteries, thus breaking
the connection between his right and left wings. I said
that, apparently, we had won the victory. It remains co
be stated why our successes were not crowned with the
important results which should have followed such heroic,
daring, and indomitable bravery. Although the order was
peremptory that all of Anderson's division should move into
action simultaneously, Brigadier-General Posey, command-
ing
a Mississippi brigade, and Brigadier-General Mahone,This
commanding a Virgiuian brigade, failed to advance.
as I
failure of these two brigades to advance is assigned,
learn
Hill's uponeotp
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as
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al
the division on his left—Beth's—to remain inactive. Here
we have two whole divisions, and two brigades of another,
standing idle spectators of one of the most desperate and
important assaultsthoaotohaarsmevedermbeenenresmtiandge
on
nn
theirthis conti-
nent-15,000 or ,
in plain view of a terrible battle, witnessing the mighty
efforts of two little brigades (Wright's and 'Wilcox's, for
Perry had fallen back overpowered) contending with the
heavy masses of Yankee infantry, and subjected to a most
deadly fire from the enemy's heavy artillery, without a single
effort to aid them in the assault or to assist them when the
heights were carried. Perry's brigade, which was between
Wilcox and Wright, soon after its first advance was pressed
so heavily as to be forced to retire. This left an interval
in the line between Wright and Wilcox, and which the
enemy perceiving, he threw a heavy column in the gap then
made, deploying a portion of it in Wilcox's left flank,while
a large force was thrown in rear of Wright's right flank,
The failure of Posey and Mahone to advance upon Wright's
left enabled the enemy to throw forward a strong force on
that flank, and to push it well to his rear along the Emmets-
burg pike. It was now apparent that the day was lost—
lost after it was won—lost, not because our army fought
badly, but because a large portion did not fight at all.
My narrative left Wright's little brigade of Georgians in
the enemy's entrenchments upon the heights. Let us re-
turn to this little Spartan band, who this day covered them-
selves with glory—alas, how vainly I Perceiving, after
getting possession of the enemy's works, that they were cer-
tainly isolated—more than a mile from support—that Perry's
brigade had been driven back on their right ; that no advance
had been made on their left, and just then seeing the
enemy's flanking columns on their right and left flanks
rapidly converging in their rear, these noble Georgians
faced about, abandoning all the guns they had captured,
and prepared to cut their way through the enemy who had
now almost entirely surrounded them. Springing with
alacrity down the hill to the stone fence, they were halted,
and delivered a well-directed fire upon the enemy then
passing along the pike road. Following this discharge by
a charge over the stonewall and through the enemy's ranks,
they soon gained the foot of the slope, when the lately aban-
doned guns upon the heights opened a most destructive fire
of grape and canister upon them. Here their loss was very
severe. But although more than one-half their number
had fallen—although every field officer but one had been
killed or wounded—with their comrades falling in heaps
on every side, this little handful of choice spirits retired
in tolerable order until they reached the bottom of the
second slope, where they were halted, faced to the front
and reformed, to await the approach of the enemy, now
seen advancing about three hundred yards distant. The
Yankees, perceiving that our men had reformed for a fight,
prudently withdrew without firing a gun. During this
time Wilcox, who had driven the enemy well up the side of
the mountain, capturing several of his guns, found his left
exposed by the flank movement of the enemy, heretofore
mentioned, and was compelled to retire, abandoning his
captured guns. On our right M'Laws and Hood continued
to press the enemy until night set in and ended
the sanguinary conflict. The enemy's loss during this
day's fight was very heavy, particularly on that portion of
the field where Beninn's brigade (of Hock's division),
Barksdale's and \Vofford's (of M'Laws'), and Wilcox's and
Wright's (of Anderson's division) were engaged. Our own
loss was slight, except in Wright's and Wilcox's brigades,
in both of which it was very heavy, amounting to more
than half of the forces engaged.

Early next morning—Friday, the 3d—preparations were
made for a general attack along the enemy's whole line,
while a large force was to be concentrated against his centre,
with the view of retaking the heights captured and aban-
doned the day before by Wright. Lieutenant General
Longstreet massed a large number of long range guns-55
in number—upon the crest of a slight eminence just in
front of Perry's and Wilcox's brigades, and a little to the
left of the heights, upon which they were to open. Lieu-
tenant-General Hill massed some 60 guns along the hill
in front of Posey's and Mahone's brigades, and almost
immediately in front of the heights. At twelve o'clock
the signal gun was fired, and the cannonading com-
menced. The fire of the guns was concentrated upon the
enemy's line on the heights stormed on the day before by
Wright's brigade. Our fire drew a most terrific one
from the enemy's batteries, posted along the heights from
a point near Cemetery Hill to the point in their lino op-
posite to the position of Wilcox. I have never yet heard
such tremendous artillery firing. The enemy must
have had over 100 guns, which, in addition to our 115,
made the air hideous with most discordant noise. The
very earth shook beneath our feet, and the hills and
rocks seem to reel like a drunken man. For one hour and
a half this most terrific fire was continued, during which
time the shrieking of shells, the crash of falling timber, the
fragments of rock flying through the air shattered from the
cliffs by solid shot, the heavy mutterings from the valley
between the opposing armies, the splash of bursting shrap-
nel, and the fierce neighing of wounded artillt ry horses,
made a picture terribly grand and sublime, but which my
pen utterly fails to describe. After the firing had continued

for little more than an hour the enemy's gun began to
slacken, and finally all were silenced save some six or eight,
which were in a clump of woods a little to the left of the
stone fence.

Now the storming party was moved up, Pickett's division
in advance, supported on the right by Wilcox's brigade and
on the left by Heth's division, commanded by Pettigrew.
The left of Pickett's division occupied the same ground over
which Wright had passed the day before. I stood upon an
eminence and watched this advance with great interest. I
had seen brave men pass over that fated valley the day be-
fore ; I had witnessed their death struggle with the foe on
the opposite heights; I had observed their return with shat-
tered ranks, a bleeding mass, but with unstained banners.
Now I saw their valiant comrades prepare for the same
bloody trial, and already felt that their efforts would be
vain unless their supports should be as true as steel and
brave as lions. Now they move forward; with steady,
measured tread they advance upon the foe. Their
banners float defiantly in the breeze, as onward in
beautiful order they press across the plain. I have
never seen since the war began (and I have been in all the
great fights of this army) troops enter a fight in such
splendid order as did this splendid division of Pickett's.
Now Pettigrew's command emerge from the woods upon
Pickett's left, and sweep down the slope of the hill to the
valley beneath, and some 200 or 300 yards in rear of
Pickett. I saw by the wavering of this line as they entered
the conflict that they wanted the firmness of nerve and
steadiness of trad which so characteried Pickett's men,
and I felt that these men would not, could not, stand the
tremendous ordeal to which they would be soon subjected.
These were mostly raw troops, which had been recently
brought from the South, and who had, perhaps, never been
under fire—who certainly had never been in any very severe
tight—and I trembled for their conduct. Just as Pickett
was getting well under the enemy's fire our batteries ceased
firing. This was a fearful moment for Pickett and his
brave command, Why do Rot our guns reopen their fire is
the inquiry that rises upon every lip. Still our batteries
arc silent as death. But on press Pickett's brave Virginians.
And now the enemy open upon them from more than 50
guns a terrible fire of grape, shell, and canister. On, on
they move in unbroken line, delivering a deadly fire as they
advance. Now they have reached the Emmetsburg road,
and here they meet a severe fire from the heavy masses of
the enemy's infantry, posted behind the stone fence, while
their artillery, now flee from the annoyance of our artillery,
turn their whole fire upon this devoted band. Still they
aremaintone firm.
Now again they advance; they storm the
; the Yankees fly. The enemy's batteries are,
one by one,
silenced in quick succession as Pickett's men
deliver their fire at the gunners and drive them from their
pieces. I see Kemper and Ar mstead plant their banner in
the enemy's works. I hear
their glad shout of victory.
Let us now look after Pettigrew's division. Where are
• they now? While thevictoyrteoaurs
Ishout of the gallant Vir-
ginians is still ringing in In
I and there all over the plain in utsmostattn my
eyes to the left,
eonfusion is scattered
i 1 they are flying,
L this strong division. Their line is broken;
apparently panic-stricken, to the rear,
Petti-
grew is wounded ; but he still retains c: gallant
vainly striving to rally his men. Still the moving , and is
ina"
rush pell-mell to the rear, and Pickett is left alone to
con-
tend with the hordes of the enemy now pouring in upon
him on every side. Garnet falls, killed by a mini,
and Kemper, the brave and chivalrous, reels under a
mortal wound, and is taken to the rear. Now the
enemy Moved around strong flanking bodies of infan-

try, and are rapidly gaining Pickett's rear. The
order is given to fall back, and our men commence the
movement, doggedly contending for every inch of ground.
The enemypress heavily our retreating line, and many noble
spirits who had passed safely through the fiery ordeal of the
advance and charge now fall on the right and on the left.
Armistead is wounded and left in the enemy's hands. At
this critical moment the shattered remnant of Wright's
Georgia brigade is moved forward to cover their retreat,
and the fight closes here. Our loss in this charge was very
severe, and the Yankee prisoners taken acknowledge that
theirs was immense. Anticipating that a renewal of the
attack would be made on this point in his line, Meade had
concentrated a very heavy force of infantry in support of his
batteries, and the fire of our artillery was said to have been
very destructive to them, lying as they were in heavy masses
just in rear of their own guns. I have stated that just after
Pickett commenced the attack our batteries ceased firing,
and upon inquiry I learn that they had exhausted all their
ammunition, and were thus compelled to withdraw. This
is most remarkable, and would seem to demand investi-

gation.
Duringt
hea
on our right,ttackmadeb Pickett,byutwith n
l‘oP decisiveLawshresults.beenad
Ewell,
activelywell engagedalso on our extreme left, had been threatening the
in his position on Cemetery Hill ; but these were
emneer7;eints, to cover and divert attention from our main
attack upon the centre. You will see that twice we took
the I\l'Pherson Heights—the real key to the enemy's whole
position—once by a single brigade on Thursday, and again
by a single diviaion on Friday, and that in both instances
we lost it by the failure of proper supports to the at-
tacking parties. On whom the blame rests for the second
failure I shell not attempt to say, The most careless
reader will be at no loss to discover the respons ble party.
For the failure to send in support in the first assault (on
Thursday) the conviction is general in this army that
Major General Anderson should be held responsible, It
was a portion of his division that made the assault and
successful charge, and two of his strongest brigades, al-
though on the field, were not put in action. Why this was
so I presume and hope he will be able to explain when he
comes to make his official report.
Nothing further transpired during the afternoon and
night of Friday, On Saturday we were engaged with
strong working parties burying our dead and caring for the
wounded.

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, (Friday)
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enemy were moving off ; but all Saturday morning the
atmosphere was so hazy that nothing could be seen, and
from noon until night the rain poured in such torrents
as to utterly preclude any accurate observations being
made. During the whole of the day our wounded—at
least such as were able to bear it —were being sent
towards Hagerstown, and late in the afternoon our artillery
and waggon trains also commenced moving in the same
direction. At dark our whole army were put in motion,
taking the road to Fairfield, and crossing South Mountain
at Waterloo Gap. Our falling back was orderly, and with-
out loss of men or guns. All our artillery was brought off,
and very few, if any, stragglers fell into the enemy's hands.
Having crossed the mountain we moved on to Hagerstown,
where we arrived on Monday, the 6th. Here we took
position, and calmly awaited the approach of the enemy.
On Tuesday his advance got as near to us as Funkstown,
four miles south of Hagerstown, and on Wednesday and
Thursday his whole command confronted us. We were
anxious for him to commence the attack, and hourly ex-
pected the ball to open. During Friday, Saturday, Sun-
day, and Monday, we lay face to face ; but the enemy re-
fused to accept our wager of battle. On Monday night,
finding that the enemy had no idea of offering us battle,
but had gone to work entrenching and fortifying, General
Lee determined to re-cross the river. I have no doubt the
continued and heavy rains, and consequent rapid rising of
the Potomac, had some influence on this movement. We
are now all on the " sacred soil of old Virginia," in fine
spirits and good health, and fully prepared to meet the
Yankee army whenever it shall get ready to move upon us.
No one in the army has had his confidence in Gen. Lee in
the slightest degree impaired by the last month's campaign.
He had difficulties to contend with which impartial history
will duly record, and his fair fame will not receive a single
blot by this campaign. I shall at some future moment,
when I have leisure, give you some more full particulars of
the campaign and what we accomplished. Our loss in the
three days' fighting at Gettysburg will fall below 10,000 in
killed, wounded, and missing. The enemy's loss is at least
30,000 killed and wounded, and 10,000 prisoners. Some of
the prisoners—indeed most of them—were paroled in Penn-
sylvania. The balance have been sent to Richmond.
The sun rises, clouds obscure its brightness as if loth to
look upon the scene to witness such inhumanity, but from
which no people are exempt who ever left a history or bene-
fited the human race. The conflict began ere Tubal Cain
first worked in brass, and will continue till a higher virtue
than man has ever reached shall govern events. Soon the
division leaves the main road, makes a detour to the right,
winds over hill through wood towards the right of our line
of battle. The morning is now wearing away; at times a
cannon shot breaks the quiet, and a shell comes screaming
through the air. Now and then the skirmishers break
forth, varying from the sharp, quick crack of a single rifle
to perfect volleys. Hour after hour thus passes, and the
battle is not yet begun. Our troops are raking position.
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Ewell is on the left, Hill holds the centre, and Longstreet
go adc. r o sßs
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intervals are batteries unlimbered and ready for action.
To
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forth—anothers
airseemsan fidsitlielld with hissing, screaming.anotherjoinsintheawf
awful chorus—
the very bursting
mouth
—each
lurid flame
the amelreoaaprs
growsmadly m
fromore
intense—now
cannon'sense—nv
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moment
chime in volleys of small arms. But where is that division
which is to play so conspicuous a part in this day's tragedy ?
they are in line of battle, just fronting that frorning hill,
from which heavy batteries are belching forth shell and
shrapnel with fatal accuracy. The men are lying close to
the ground ; hours pass, and the deadly missiles come thick
and fast on their mission of death. See that shattered
arm ; that leg shot off, that headless body, and here the
mangled form of a young and gallant lieutenant, who had
braved the perils of many battles. That hill must be carried,
to rout the enemy; a terrible chastisement has been inflicted
on him ; with immense loss he had been driven from his
position two days previous—this is his stronghold. This
captured, rout is inevitable ; exceedingly strong by nature,
but rendered more so by the works thrown up the night
before. It is a moment of great emergency; if unshrinking
valour or human courage can carry these heights it will be
done. Gen. Pickett receives the order to charge those bat-
teries at the opportune moment. The cannonade still goes
on with intense fury; our batteries are handled with great
skill. This battery and that limbers up, advance to the front,
wheel into action, and again the roar of cannon be owes
almost deafening. Our shells seem to burst with terrible
accuracy ; now a caisson of the enemy's is blown up ;
quickly another follows ; their fire slackens; the order comes
to advance. That flag which waved amid the wild tempest
of battle at Gaines' Mill, Frazer's Farm, and Manassas,
Kemper, with as gallant men as
never rose more proudly.
ever trod beneath that flag, leads the right; Garnett, with
his heroes, brings up the left ; and the veteran Armistead,
with his brave troops, moves forward in support. The dis-
tance is more than half a mile. As they advance the enemy
fire with great rapidity—shell and solid shot give place to
grape and canister—the very earth quivers beneath the
heavy roar—wide gaps are made in this regiment and that
brigade—yet they quckly close up and move steadily on-
ward. That flag goes down. See how quickly it again
mounts upward, borne by some gallant man, who feels
keenly the honour of his old Commonwealth in this hour
which is to test her manhood. The line moves onward,
straight onward—cannons roaring, grape and canister
plunging and ploughing through the ranks, bullets whizzing
as thick as hailstones in winter, and men falling as leaves
fall when shaken by the blasts of autumn. In double quick,
and with a shout which rises above the roar of battle, they
charge. Now they pour in volleys of nsusketry—they
reach the works—the contest rages with intense fur
ave
y—seen
fight almost hand to hand—the red cross and gridiron w
defiantly in close proximity—the enemy are slowly yielding
—a Federal officer dashing forward in front of his shrink-
ingd columns, and with flashing sword, urges them to sten .
Gen, Pickett, seeing the splendid valour of his troops,
moves among them as if courting death by his own daring
intrepidity. The noble Garnett is dead, Armistead wounded
,
and the brave Kemper, with hat in hand, still cheering on
his men, falls from his horse into the ranks of the enemy.
His men rush forward, rescue their general, and he is borne
mortally wounded from the field. Where is the gallant
Williams? The first is there, but his clear voice is no longer
heard—he has fallen lifeless, and there goes his horse now
riderless. There stand the decimated ranks of the Third ;
and Mayo, though struck, stands firm with his faithful men,
animating them to yet more daring deeds; but Callcott, the
Christian soldier, who stood unmoved amid this carnival
of death, has fought his last battle ; no sound shall awake
him to glory again till the summons of the Great Judge,
announcing to him the reward of the faithful soldier who
ho
has fought the good fight. Patten, Oten, and Terry,
but a moment since stood at the head of their respective
regiments, are wounded. The brave Hunton, hero of Lees •
burg, most worthy successor of the noble Garnett, Stewart,
and Gant, lies wounded. Carrington, his gallant regiment
shattered, stands firmly, flaunting defiantly his colours in
the very face of the enemy. Allen and Ellis killed. Hodges,
too, has fallen, and the modest, chivalrous Edmunds lies
numbered with the noble dead ; Aylett wounded, and Ma-
gruder has gone down in the shock of battle. The fight
goes on—but few are left, and the shrinking columns of the
enemy gain confidence from the heavy reinforcements ad-
vanced to their support. They, too, are moving in large
force on the right flank. This division, small at first, with
ranks torn and shattered, most of its officers killed or