'A sight for the gods': Wade Hampton's 1886 Gettysburg visit

In a cropped enlargement of the image below, Wade Hampton (center) joins veterans at a picnic 
near where they fought at Gettysburg on July 3, 1863. William Tipton shot the images July 7, 1886.

Gettysburg-based photographer William Tipton shot this image of Hampton and other vets.
(CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)

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Twenty-three years after a Union cavalry officer slashed his head with a sabre in a farmer's field east of Gettysburg, 68-year-old Wade Hampton had a much less menacing encounter with his former enemies on the old battleground.

The reunion of cavalry troopers in Gettysburg
 on July 7, 1886, received extensive coverage
in the Philadelphia Times
and in other newspapers.

The picnic in a grove made for a remarkable scene: Hampton, the former Confederate cavalry general, enjoyed a meal of chicken, cold ham, beef, pickles, lemonade and milk with former U.S Army cavalrymen near East Cavalry Field, where the opposing forces attempted to kill each other on July 3, 1863. Nearly 100 ex-Confederate cavalrymen joined Hampton, who made the train trip to Gettysburg from Washington, where he served as a U.S. senator from South Carolina. 

Newspapers heralded the event on July 7, 1886, as “the most important and successful gathering that has taken place in Gettysburg since the war" and a "remarkable revival of old-time memories."

Notable for their absence were two generals who played huge roles during the cavalry fight about three miles east of town: Confederate J.E.B Stuart, who had been killed in 1864 near Richmond, and brash Union brigade commander George Armstrong Custer, who had been killed 10 years earlier in a battle against Lakota Sioux, Northern Cheyenne and Arapahoby at Little Big Horn. But their absences apparently didn’t detract from what the Philadelphia Times called “a genuine love-feast.”

Like former Confederate General James Longstreet two years later, Hampton was a star at this Gettysburg veterans’ reunion.

One of biggest slave holders in the South before the war, the senator had served with distinction under Robert E. Lee. The general's family suffered as thousands of others had during the war. Hampton's second-eldest son, Thomas, a 20-year-old lieutenant, was killed near Petersburg in 1864. Financially crippled by the war, Hampton lost a vast estate in Columbia, S.C., that the U.S. Army ransacked and destroyed by fire.

A cropped enlargement of the image below shows Hampton and other veterans on July 7, 1886.

On July 7, 1886, Hampton and cavalry veterans were photographed by William Tipton.
David McMurtrie Gregg is in the front row, left of Hampton, wearing a straw hat with a black band.

Unlike future Gettysburg reunions, simplicity marked this gathering. “There were no set speeches and no brass bands,” according to a New York World correspondent. “A company of militia came over from Hagerstown [Md.], but they did not come out to the cavalry battle field. The horsemen, therefore, attended to their business without fun or noise."

For four hours that Wednesday, the former Rebel cavalrymen and several hundred of their Union counterparts, including former General David Gregg, trekked over East Cavalry Field, pointing out key positions where they fought on a sultry summer day in 1863. Nearly 500 casualties resulted in about 40 minutes' fighting — a failed effort by Stuart to attack the rear of the U.S. Army.

While discussing strategy at the reunion, Union veterans had a "friendly dispute" over a supposed withdrawal of troops under Custer, and George Briggs — a former colonel in the 7th Michigan Cavalry — explained where his regiment made its "wonderful charge." Meanwhile, “General Hampton,” the Philadelphia Times noted, “was especially considerate in the indication of the lines on which General Stuart moved and where, within the timber, how his own command was placed.”

Hampton, who told old war stories, gestured to a fence and a clump of trees to show where he had suffered a sabre cut from an officer in the 7th Michigan on John Rummel's farm.

“I pulled my pistol and snapped it at him as I chased him toward the wood," the bewhiskered former general told a group of veterans from both armies. "Finding it had no loads in it, I threw it at him. I don’t wish him any harm now, but then I would have liked to have a swipe at him with my sabre.” (Later in the cavalry fight, shrapnel wounded Hampton in the hip. It remained in his body the rest of this life.)

In a cropped enlargement of the image below, Hampton tours the Gettysburg battlefield.

On July 7, 1886, William Tipton also shot this image of Wade Hampton in a buggy.

Before the highly anticipated visit, the Philadelphia Times declared “it will be a sight fit for the gods to see Wade Hampton and Gregg shake hands on the same battle-field where they sent their troopers against each other with most deadly intent.” 

While newspaper accounts did not mention whether the former adversaries indeed shook hands, Gregg — who commanded a division of cavalry in the fight on Rummel's farm — made his feelings plain.

“I don’t bear him any animosity,” the 53-year-old veteran said of the former plantation owner and slave holder, who was nearby, “but I would have liked to have got at him as I clubbed my pistol and threw it in his face. All the chambers were empty.

“I think even now,” Gregg said in jest, “that would have been a satisfaction.”

For a half-hour, Gregg and Hampton entertained each other with their views of the battle. 

"It was," the New York World noted, "a sight for reflection — this coming together of opposing commanders to find pleasure in marking for the future the successes and the defeats which are the monuments of our common valor."

Before he began his journey back to Washington, Hampton posed with other veterans for at least three photographs by Gettysburg-based battlefield photographer William Tipton. At 2 p.m., shortly after the picnic lunch ended, he bade his former comrades farewell.

It was an eventful day.

"The utmost feeling and courtesy," the Philadelphia Times reported, "prevailed among all who were present."

       East Cavalry Field, where Confederate and Union cavalry clashed on July 3, 1863.

ABOVE: East Cavalry Field, where Wade Hampton's troopers fought on July 3, 1863.
BELOW: Gregg Cavalry monument, where 1st Michigan Cavalry fought Jeb Stuart's cavalry.

Images courtesy Shelly Liebler.

                                      Google Map of East Cavalry Field, near Gettysburg.

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SOURCES

• Gettysburg (Pa.) Compiler, July 13, 1886
• New York World, July 8, 1886
• Philadelphia Times, July 8, 1886

Hidden Gettysburg: Q&A with Coster Avenue mural co-creator

                     INTERACTIVE PANORAMA: At 3/4 of an acre, the Coster Avenue site 
                               is the smallest slice of the Gettysburg National Military Park.

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My favorite Gettysburg sites are mostly off-the-beaten path and visited largely by us battlefield diehards:

1. The field behind the old George Rose farm, scene of bitter fighting on July 2, 1863, is almost a spiritual place. Days after the battle, Alexander Gardner and Timothy O'Sullivan took horrifying photographs of Confederate dead there, a fraction of the soldiers killed on Rose's farm.

2. You really need to know what to look for to find the site of the temporary grave of 140th Pennsylvania Captain David Acheson. Killed during fighting in The Wheatfield, his body was recovered by comrades and buried by a large boulder on John Weikert's farm. Acheson's initials ("D.A.") and regiment ("140 P.V.")  may still be found on the boulder on which another soldier carved them to mark the burial spot.

Mark H. Dunkelman, co-creator
 of the Coster Avenue mural.

3. Walk into the woods beyond the old Union breastworks on Culp's Hill, close your eyes and try to imagine what happened there more than 153 years ago. You don't have to imagine the massive boulders in those woods -- the Confederates used them as natural defenses from the fire of the Yankees on the crest.

Add to my exclusive list the former site of John Kuhn's Brickyard, scene of the futile stand by the brigade of Union Colonel Charles Coster on the first day of the battle. Modern Gettysburg long ago encroached on the small slice of hallowed ground, now located in a neighborhood three blocks off busy Carlisle Street.

When Mark H. Dunkelman came upon the scene in the spring of 1970, he discovered a large wall under construction behind the 154th New York monument, one of three Union regiments honored with monuments on the grounds for their sacrifices on July 1, 1863. An artist with an avid interest in the 154th New York, Dunkelman asked the owners of the business building the wall if he could create a mural on it to depict the 1863 fighting there. The rest, as they say, is history.

Dunkelman, the author of six books on the 154th New York and creator of an excellent site on the regiment, recently took time out to answer my questions about his mural, one of Gettysburg's hidden gems:

Why so passionate about this project?

Dunkelman: The mural combines two of three lifelong passions: making artwork and Civil War history (the third is playing music). My Civil War study centers on the 154th New York Volunteer Infantry, so I’ve visited Coster Avenue, site of the regiment’s Gettysburg monument, many times since my childhood. During a visit in April 1970, I saw a concrete block wall under construction 10 feet behind the monument.

At first it saddened me that the monument would have such an ugly backdrop. But then an idea came to me. By using my training as an artist (BFA, Rhode Island School of Design, 1969) to create a mural, I could make the wall disappear and bring back the scene that occurred in John Kuhn’s brickyard on that very site on the afternoon of July 1, 1863. I figured the mural would be a valuable device to interpret what happened on a section of the battlefield that has been drastically altered in the decades since the Civil War.

Close-up shows detail on the massive Coster Avenue mural.

The mural is quite an achievement. Do you ever go to Coster Avenue, look at it and wonder, "What the heck was I thinking"?

Dunkelman: My first of six books on the 154th New York, The Hardtack Regiment, was published in 1981, when the mural project was still in its research and development stages. My author’s bio on the dust jacket included this line: “Mr. Dunkelman is planning a mural in Gettysburg adjacent to Coster Avenue, site of the 154th New York’s monument, depicting the fighting that occurred there.” I’ve occasionally referred to that sentence in cautioning people with grandiose plans to keep them under their hat -- otherwise they will feel obligated to follow through with them!

How many hours would you estimate you and your artistic partner, Johan Bjurman, put into creating the massive mural?

Dunkelman: I put in uncounted hours over a period of years developing a one inch to one foot scale pencil sketch and a larger oil sketch that satisfied me and the experts who kindly critiqued my work: my late partner Mike Winey of the U.S. Army Military History Institute, Kathy Georg Harrison at the Gettysburg National Military Park, photographic historian extraordinaire Bill Frassanito, and the late Col. J. Met Sheads, who lived on North Stratton Street and knew the neighborhood as well as the battle.

Johan and I painted the original 80-feet-long mural in five weeks in 1988, which still amazes me considering most of it was painted with one-inch brushes because of all the detail. We did the 2001 restoration, which included scraping off the old varnish and repainting every square inch, in two weeks. Production of the current glass version took quite a while. Johan put in about 100 hours, if I remember correctly, painting over an enlarged print of the mural to create the image that was photographed to create the files that were used to print the glass panels.

Incidentally, Johan and I have been together in Gettysburg three times to work on the mural, in 1988 to install the original, in 2001 to restore it, and in 2015 to take it down for replacement by the glass version. During the first visit, I tripped and banged up my knee and wound up in Gettysburg Hospital. During our last visit, Johan tripped in almost the exact same spot and wound up in Gettysburg Hospital with three broken ribs. So we’ve both been Gettysburg casualties on Coster Avenue. (For much more on the restoration of the mural, see Dunkelman's post on the Emerging Civil War blog here.)

A  photo of the Coster Avenue site in  1970,  the year Dunkelman conceived of the idea to put 
a mural here. The 154th New York monument is at left.  (Photo: Mark H. Dunkelman)

Your mural is smack-dab in the middle of a neighborhood. When you first saw the area, what was your reaction?

Dunkelman: I’ve always seen Coster Avenue — which at three-quarters of an acre is the smallest portion of the Gettysburg National Military Park — as an isolated little grassy island tucked away and hidden in the town, distant from the rest of the battlefield, most of which is contiguous. In all the visits I made to Coster Avenue before the mural was installed, I never saw another person there. Since the mural went up, every time I’ve returned to Gettysburg I’ve encountered visitors at Coster Avenue. Civil War historian Ed Bearss told me that he never took tours to Coster Avenue until the mural went up; since then he makes it a regular stop. It’s been extremely gratifying, since my goal was to draw attention to what had been an overlooked part of the battle.

When I visit Fredericksburg, I often am tempted to visit with those who live in the neighborhood of the Sunken Road to ask them what it's like to live where so much carnage took place. Ever tempted to do the same near the site of your mural?

Dunkelman: I’ve met a number of people who live in the neighborhood surrounding the mural. Sometimes we discuss the battle, but most often the talk is about the mural and its effect in drawing visitors. I’ve been pleased to find that the neighbors like the mural and are protective of it; they keep an eye on it. And my relationship with Coldsmith Roofing, the firm that owns the building, has been great ever since they gave me permission back in the 1970s to attach the mural to their back wall. 

I became friends with a couple who lived around the corner on North Stratton Street, and for years they put me up during visits to Gettysburg (thanks, Paul and Carolyn!). And after they moved, their neighbor has let me stay in an apartment in her house (thanks, Sue!), which is great. Another neighbor has dug brickbats out of his garden — quite likely remnants of Kuhn’s brickyard — and he gave me a good-sized one, which is a nice souvenir. I consider the area around Coster Avenue my neighborhood in Gettysburg.

          The mural and site of fighting on July 1, 1863, is in a Gettysburg neighborhood.

The mural is off the beaten path for the typical Gettysburg visitor. For those who have never visited this part of the battlefield, what are three things they should know?

Dunkelman: First, that the clash between Coster’s Union brigade and Avery’s and Hays’s Confederate brigades was an important element of the First Day’s battle. The brickyard fight’s significance stems from the fact that it was among the last organized Union resistance on July 1, and Coster’s stand allowed the XI Corps divisions that had been driven from the plains north of the town to make their escape through the borough without major additional losses. 

Ewell’s failure to attack Cemetery Hill on the afternoon of July 1 is one of the major controversies of the battle. The brickyard fight has to be considered as a factor in that decision. Second, the brickyard fight was long overlooked by historians and students of the battle. For example, Edwin Coddington devoted only two sentences to it in his classic 1968 book, The Gettysburg Campaign. In contrast, the late Harry Pfanz included an entire chapter on the brickyard fight in his 2001 book, Gettysburg – The First Day. Third, but not least, about 770 New Yorkers, Pennsylvanians, North Carolinians, and Louisianans became casualties in the brickyard fight, and they deserve to be remembered.

An image of 154th New York Sergeant
Amos Humiston's children was
 found near his body at Gettysburg.

What's your favorite individual soldier story of the fighting that took place in the vicinity of Kuhn's brickyard?

Dunkelman: That would be the story I told in detail in my second book, Gettysburg’s Unknown Soldier: The Life, Death, and Celebrity of Amos Humiston (Praeger, 1999). I rate the tale of Sergeant Humiston and his famous “Children of the Battle Field” as one of the best known human-interest stories to emerge from the battle, right up there with those of John Burns and Jennie Wade. My connection with Humiston descendants, who provided me with a plethora of material, including Amos’s wartime letters, enabled me to write what has been described as the definitive account. That was gratifying — as was the invitation to deliver the main address at the 1993 dedication of the monument to Amos a few blocks south of Coster Avenue. (Read more on Humiston here.)

Finally, besides Coster Avenue, what are your three favorite sites at Gettysburg?

Dunkelman: The Amos Humiston monument on the grounds of the Gettysburg Volunteer Fire Department at 35 North Stratton Street; East Cemetery Hill, including the monuments to regiments of Coster’s brigade on the GNMP side of Baltimore Street and the two former Homestead orphanage buildings on the other side of the street at numbers 777 and 785 (the founding of the orphanage was inspired by the Humiston story); and the 10 graves of 154th New York soldiers in the National Cemetery.

        INTERACTIVE PANORAMA: Colonel Coster's brigade made a futile stand here.

Listen: Wind eerily whips through Antietam's Bloody Cornfield

Check out Bloody Cornfield panorama below.

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Interactive panoramas: First Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861

Monument to  Stonewall Jackson at Bull Run. Read John Hennessy's take on his nickname.

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In late April 2016, I joined 50 others for a tour of the First Bull Run battlefield with two experts, John Hennessy of the National Park Service and my fellow Pittsburgher, Harry Smeltzer. John's recently updated book on First Manassas (also known as Bull Run) and Harry's fabulous blog/digital history project are premier sources on the first major battle of the war, fought July 21, 1861. Here are five interactive panoramas I shot that day, a small slice of our nine-hour trek over the battlefield. (Click at upper right for full-screen experience): 

STONE BRIDGE LOOKING WEST

    Warrenton Turnpike crossed at Stone Bridge, which was destroyed during the war.
                                                           
"It was an appalling hour. The shot whistled and tore through trees and bones. The ground became literally paved with the fallen. Yet the remnant stood composed and unquailing, carefully loading, steadily aiming, unerringly firing, and then quietly looking to see the effect of their shots. Mere boys fought like veterans — unexcited, save with that stern "white heat," flameless exhilaration, that battle gives to brave spirits.

"After eight or ten rounds the regiment appeared annihilated. The order was reluctantly given to cease firing and retire. The stubborn fellows gave no heed. It was repeated. Still no obedience. The battle spirit was up. Again it was given. Three volleys had been fired after the first command. At length they retired, walking and fighting. Owing to the density of the growth, a part of the regiment were separated from the colors. The other part formed in an open field behind the thicket. The retreat continued over ground alternately wood and field. At every open spot they would reform, pour a volley into the pursuing enemy and again retire."

-- Confederate soldier on fighting near the Stone Bridge early on July 21

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LOOKING TOWARD STONE HOUSE, HENRY HILL FROM MATTHEWS HILL

        71st N.Y., 1st and 2nd Rhode Island soldiers were among troops that fought here.

"I cannot here relate all the scenes I saw, the horrible wounds inflicted, and all the incidents of this most shameful and unnecessary battle – for which the troops feel they were sacrificed by the stupidity of their generals. Suffice it to say our men fought bravely; and I can only account for the panic with which they were seized by the facts that the teamsters took fright and drove their wagons pell mell through them, and that many of the regiments had totally incompetent field and company officers – many of  whom acted cowardly – and the most of whom didn’t know what to do."

-- Colonel John Ellis, a volunteer in the 71st New York

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HENRY HILL LOOKING TOWARD MATTHEWS HILL

                          Confederate troops under Jackson, artillery were positioned here.

"The contest that ensued was terrific. Jackson ordered me to go from battery to battery and see that the guns were properly aimed and the fuses cut the right length. This was the work of but a few minutes. On returning to the left of the line of guns, I stopped to ask General Jackson’s permission to rejoin my battery. The fight was just then hot enough to make him feel well. His eyes fairly blazed. He had a way of throwing up his left hand with the open palm toward the person he was addressing. And as he told me to go, he made this gesture. The air was full of flying missiles, and as he spoke he jerked down his hand, and I saw that blood was streaming from it. I exclaimed,  'General, you are wounded?' He replied, as he drew a handkerchief from his breast-pocket, and began to bind it up, 'Only a scratch — a mere scratch,' and galloped away along his line."

-- Confederate General John Imboden on fighting at Henry Hill

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WHERE JACKSON'S WOUND WAS TREATED

                                             Site of major Confederate field hospital.

"On his way to the rear, the wound pained him so much that he stopped at the first hospital he came to, and the surgeon there proposed to cut the finger off; but while the Doctor looked for his instruments, and for a moment turned his back, the General silently mounted his horse, rode off, and soon afterwards found me. I was busily engaged with the wounded, but when I saw him coming, I left them, and asked him if he was seriously hurt. 'No,' he answered, 'not half as badly as many here, and I will wait.' And he forthwith sat down on the bank of a little stream near by, and positively declined any assistance until  'his turn came!' ”

-- Dr. Hunter McGuire on Stonewall Jackson's wound at First Battle of Bull Run

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WHERE JEFFERSON DAVIS MET JACKSON AFTER BATTLE

                                                     Near Holkum's Branch of Bull Run.  

 "Give me ten thousand men and I shall take Washington City tomorrow.”

-- Stonewall Jackson to Confederate president Jefferson Davis.

The Rebels, however, were too disorganized to follow up on their great victory at Bull Run.

'Shell and be damned': An officer's bravery at Shepherdstown

118th Pennsylvania Lieutenant Lemuel Crocker disobeyed orders forbidding him to cross the 
Potomac to recover  dead and aid wounded in his regiment after the Battle of Shepherdstown.
  (Image courtesy Ronn Palm/Museum of Civil War Images in Gettysburg)

Route the 118th Pennsylvania took to the bluffs above the Potomac River at Shepherdstown, Va.

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On Sept. 20, 1862, the 118th Pennsylvania was routed on the bluffs near Shepherdstown, Va., some soldiers falling to their deaths from the rocky crags high above the Potomac River during their disorganized retreat. "Intensifying the dreadful scene," an officer in the regiment recalled, shells fired by Federal artillery from the Maryland side of the river fell short, killing or wounding some in the rookie regiment as they sought cover in or near the arches of lime kilns on the Virginia side.

"A cry of horror went up from our men, heard across the river," Captain Frank Donaldson wrote about the awful effect of the friendly fire during the Battle of Shepherdstown.

A day later, casualties of the 118th Pennsylvania, mostly solders from Philadelphia, were scattered across the Virginia side of the Potomac. "The silent forms of the dead, killed in the fight, were in plain view," a regimental historian wrote. "It was a sorrowful sight."

Lemuel Crocker, a tall, muscular 33-year-old lieutenant in the 118th Pennsylvania, aimed to do something about it.

Disobeying an order from Union V Corps commander Fitz John Porter forbidding his mercy mission, Crocker crossed the dam breast from Maryland to the Virginia side of the Potomac to aid the wounded and to retrieve the dead. In the army less than a month, Crocker, "absolutely covered with blood and dirt," was carrying a soldier to the river bank when he was approached by an orderly for Porter.

Return at once to Maryland, he told the lieutenant, or a battery would open fire to persuade him.

"Shell and be damned," replied Crocker, who continued his work.

In a detailed account published decades later, the 118th Pennsylvania's regimental historian recalled Crocker's heroism on Sept. 21, 1862:

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Lemuel Crocker crossed from the Maryland side of the Potomac in the distance to aid 
comrades in the 118th Pennsylvania on the opposite shore.

In their hasty retreat, some 118th Pennsylvania soldiers
were severely injured -- and some were killed --
scrambling down these bluffs (above and below).

The sensibilities of Lieutenant Lemuel L Crocker had been aroused by the necessary abandonment of the dead and wounded, left uncared for and unattended in the precipitate withdrawal. He entreated Colonel [James] Barnes so earnestly for permission to go and care for the forsaken ones that the colonel fully comprehending the impropriety of the request at last reluctantly consented to present it to General Fitz John Porter, the corps commander. It met with a flat, emphatic refusal. There was no communication with the enemy and it was not proposed to open any. War was war, and this was neither the time nor the occasion for sentiment or sympathy. But Crocker was not to be deterred in his errand of mercy, and in positive disregard of instructions, proceeded deliberately, fully accoutred with sword belt and pistol, to cross the river at the breast of the dam. It was a novel spectacle for an officer armed with all he was entitled to carry to thus commence a lonesome advance against a whole army corps. Bound upon an unauthorized mission of peace and humanity, a little experience might have taught him his reception would have been

more cordial if he had left his weapons at  home. Still, it was Crocker's heart at work, and its honest manly beats bade him.

He found the bodies of [Courtland] Saunders, [Joseph] Ricketts and [J. Mora] Moss, and Private [Edward] Mishaw, badly wounded but still alive. He was bearing them one by one upon his shoulders to the river bank when he was suddenly interrupted by an orderly from General Porter, who informed him that he was instructed to direct him to return at once or he would order a battery to shell him out. His reply was: 'Shell and be damned.' He didn't propose to return until the full purpose of his undertaking had been accomplished.

The orderly thus abruptly disposed of, he continued his operations, when he was again interrupted by an authority which, if it failed to command respect, could enforce obedience. He had carried all the bodies to the bank, and was returning for the wounded Mishaw, when a Confederate general -- whom Crocker always thought was Lee but in this he was mistaken -- accompanied by a numerous staff, came upon the ground. An aide de camp rode up, inquiring, with some asperity -- explaining that no flag of truce was in operation -- as to who and what was his purpose in being there and by whose authority.

Crocker's work, which he had conducted wholly himself, had put him in a sorry plight. He was of large frame, muscular and finely proportioned. He had carried the bodies over his left shoulder and was absolutely covered with blood and dirt, almost unrecognizable as a soldier, and his voice and form alone indicated his manhood. His reply was prompt and ingenuous: he had been refused permission to cross by his corps commander, to whom he had made his purpose known; the dead and wounded of the regiment that fought on that ground yesterday were of the blood of Philadelphia's best citizens and, regardless of the laws of war and the commands of his superiors, he was of opinion that humanity and decency demanded that they be properly cared for, which, no one else attempting, he had determined to risk the consequences and discharge the duty himself. The simplicity and earnestness of this reply prompted the further interrogation as to how long he had been in the service. "Twenty days," responded Crocker. The gentle "I thought so" from the lips of the veteran general showed that the ingenuousness and sincerity had wholly captured him. He bade him continue his labors until they were fully completed, pointed out a boat on the shore that he could utilize to ferry his precious freight across the stream, and surrounded the field with a cordon of cavalry patrols to protect him from further molestation or interruption.

                  A panoramic view of the Potomac and the Maryland side of the river.
                                       (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

But Crocker had a host of troubles to face upon his return. He had openly violated the positive commands of his superior; he had been shamefully insulting to the messenger who bore his superior's instructions; and had acted in utter disregard of well-known laws governing armies confronting each other. Still, there was something about the whole affair so honest, so earnest, and so true, that there was a disposition to temporize with the stern demands of discipline. And he had fully accomplished his purpose -- all the bodies and the wounded man were safely landed on the Maryland side. However , he was promptly arrested.

V Corps commander Fitz John Porter
reprimanded Lemuel Crocker but
 allowed him to return to duty.

Colonel Barnes, who had watched him through all his operations, was the first of his superiors who was prompted to leniency, and he accompanied him to corps headquarters to intercede in his behalf. They were ushered into the presence of General Porter, who, shocked at such a wholesale accumulation of improprieties and angered to a high tension by such positive disobediences, proceeded, in short and telling phrases, to explain the law and regulations -- all of which, if Crocker didn't know before he started, he had had full opportunity to gather in during his experiences.

Then followed moments of painful silence, and the general inquired whether he had seen a gun which the regulars had left upon the other side the day before and, if so, what was the likelihood of its recovery. Crocker replied that he had not, but had noticed a caisson, and that he did not consider it likely it would ever come back. Returning to the subject, the general continued his reproof; but considering his inexperience, unquestioned courage and evident good intentions, he finally yielded, concluding that the reprimand was sufficient punishment and released him from arrest and restored him to duty.

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POSTSCRIPT: Crocker, who later fought with the 118th Pennsylvania at Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, resigned his commission on Feb. 26, 1864, probably to care for his ill wife. After the war, he lived in Buffalo, where he was superintendent of the stock yards and worked in fertilizer and brewing businesses. "One of the most enterprising men in the city," Crocker died of a stroke at his home in Buffalo on March 27, 1885.

"He was a man of strict integrity, and great benevolence," The Buffalo Evening News wrote about the 56-year-old veteran, "and many a cattle dealer who has been at times pressed for funds will remember with gratitude his generous tenders of his assistance."

During the Battle of Shepherdstown, Federal artillery aimed at the Rebels from the 
Maryland side of the Potomac fell short, killing and wounding 118th Pennsylvania soldiers
 huddled in or near the arches of this lime kiln.

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Voices in the Wilderness: 'Shrieks, cries and groans'

Remains of trenches occupied by the Union army on May 5-6, 1864, during Battle of Wilderness.

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When you walk by yourself  deep into the woods or fields of the Wilderness battlefield, you're never really alone. On nearly every step, history, tragedy and spirits of the past tug hard. Here are images from my recent visit and words from those who were there in 1864:

SAUNDERS FIELD (CONFEDERATES' VIEW)

On May 5, 1864, the 118th Pennsylvania helped drive Rebels from these entrenchments at the western edge of Saunders Field, bisected by the strategic Orange Turnpike. But the U.S. Army's success was short-lived, and a stalemate resulted. A 118th Pennsylvania regimental historian described the terror the wounded on both sides faced during the battle:

"The business of war is to kill and maim, and the quicker this is accepted as a hard and bitter necessity the better are the soldiers. But the moans and wailings of the Wilderness battle-field stirred the stoutest hearts, and yet they could not be relieved. Wounded men make but little demonstration and rarely utter an outcry. Throughout the night, as the forest fires which had blazed since the early afternoon drew nearer and nearer to the poor unfortunates who lay between the lines, their shrieks, cries and groans, loud, piercing, penetrating, rent the air until death relieved the sufferer or the rattle of musketry that followed the advent of the breaking morn drowned all the other sounds in its dominating roar. There was no hope of rescue -- war's hard rules would not permit it, and there between the lines the men of both sides perished in the flames because there was no helping hand to succor, no yielding of the stern necessities of war."

-- 118th Pennsylvania regimental historian

SOURCE

WHERE VERMONT MADE ITS STAND

If the Confederates had defeated the U.S. Army here, near the vitally important Brock and Orange Plank roads intersection, Ulysses Grant's army could have been crippled. A brigade of Vermont troops desperately held on in these woods on May 5-6, suffering 1,234 casualties, and the Rebels' advance was checked. A path from a small parking area on the Orange Plank Road leads to a massive, granite monument that honors the brigade's sacrifice.

"One engaged in that terrible conflict may well pause to reflect upon the horrors of that night. Officers and men lay down to rest amid the groans of the wounded and dying and the dead bodies of their comrades as they were brought to the rear. One thousand brave officers and men of the Vermont brigade fell on that bloody field. Was the result commensurate to the sacrifice? Whether it was or not, the battle once commenced had to be fought. There was safety only in success."

-- Union Brigadier General Lewis Grant, 1st Vermont Brigade, Aug. 27, 1864

SOURCE

'THE DEAD YANKEES ARE EVERYWHERE'

The woods of the Wildnesss near the Brock and Orange Plank roads intersection..

Like many in both armies, Southern surgeon Spencer White scavenged from the enemy, picking up an "India rubber cloth that is big enough for four men to lie in or make a tent of." At the Wilderness, White also spotted grievously wounded Union General James Wadsworth, who had been shot in the head leading a doomed charge down the Orange Plank Road. As he lay by the roadside, Rebels rifled the pockets of the 56-year-old general.

"As usual on such occasions, groans and cries met me from every side. I found Colonel James Nance, my old schoolmate, and Colonel Gaillard of Fairfield lying side by side in death. Near them lay Warren Peterson with a shattered thigh bone and still others who were my friends. Many of the enemy were there. Not far from these was an old man, a Yankee officer mortally wounded. I learned that he was Brigadier General [James] Wadsworth, once Governor of New York. (Note: Wadsworth actually lost the election for New York governor in 1862.)

"I picked up an excellent Yankee overcoat on the battlefield, but the cape is off. I will have a sack coat made of it. ... I have never before seen a battlefield so strewn with overcoats, knapsacks, India rubber cloths and everything else soldiers carry, except at Chancellorsville. The dead Yankees are everywhere. I have never before seen woods so completely riddled with bullets. At one place the battle raged among chinquapin bushes. All the bark was knocked off, and the bushes are literally torn to pieces."

-- Spencer Glasgow White, 13th South Carolina assistant surgeon, in letter to his wife, May 7, 1864

SOURCE

TRAMPLING PERMELIA HIGGERSON'S FIELD

The Higgerson Farm, one of the few clearings in the Wilderness.

All that remains of Permelia Higgerson's modest home in the Wilderness.

Permelia Higgerson

On the afternoon of May 5, Pennsylvania troops swept across Permelia Higgerson's field, trampling her garden in the process. Incensed, she predicted the dastardly Yankees' demise. Her prophesy proved spot-on for the 7th Pennsylvania, cut off on Higgerson's farm and forced to surrender. Confederates sent the officers to a POW camp in Macon, Ga., while the enlisted men ended up in the hell of Andersonville. In an account published in 1865, a newspaper reporter recalled the regiment's predicament during the battle:

"The Seventh had advanced into the dense woods with the Second and Eleventh [Pennsylvania], but Colonel [Henry] Bolinger unfortunately could not see the movements of the other regiments and, hence receiving no orders, continued to press steadily forward, driving everything before him until suddenly the enemy closed in upon the rear of the regiment and cut off its retreat in that direction. A desperate attempt was then made to escape by another route, but it failed. Finding his command completely surrounded, Colonel Bolinger was compelled to surrender to save his regiment from being cut to pieces. As it was, many of his brave men were left in the Wilderness, never to be heard from again. The colonel and two hundred and seventy one of the officers and men were made prisoners. Forty escaped through the swamps and woods and returned to the camp."

-- Josiah Rhinehart Sypher, newspaper correspondent and author of 1865 history of the 7th Pennsylvania

SOURCE

'LEE TO THE REAR!'

Apparently intent on leading a charge during a moment of crisis on Widow Tapp's farm, Robert E. Lee was persuaded by soldiers in the Texas Brigade to seek safer ground. "Lee to the rear!" they shouted. The general took their advice, and the Rebels checked the Union Army's advance here on May 6.

"So much has been said about the Lee to the rear incident that, having been a member of the Texas Brigade, I wish to add my testimony to that given heretofore as to the claims of the Texas Brigade. But it will be seen from histories of the Army of Northern Virginia that Gen. Lee on several occasions attempted to lead his troops in battle. At the Wilderness on May 6, he tried to lead the Texas Brigade; later, in the fighting around Spottsylvania, he attempted to lead Howe's Mississippians and the Virginians at the Bloody Angle. In all of these attempts, he was prevented by the men around him as he would have been by any body of soldiers in his army had the same opportunity presented itself."

-- 1904 account of Confederate veteran Richard J. Harding, a captain in the 1st Texas Infantry

SOURCE

WHERE A GENERAL COULD HAVE BEEN CAPTURED

Only a few cleared fields broke up the vast, tangled forests of the Wilderness -- including this one on William Chewning's farm. On May 5, the Federals briefly held this area before they were forced to abandon the position to provide support along the Orange Turnpike. On the morning of May 6, Confederate General A.P. Hill narrowly escaped capture here.

"Before the troops came up, we rode to a house and outbuildings in the lower end of the field and dismounted. We had been there only a short while when we were startled by the breaking down of a fence. Just below and in plain view was a long line of Federal infantry clearing the fence to move forward. General Hill commanded, 'Mount, walk your horses and don t look back.' "

-- William Palmer, Hill's chief of staff,  after the war

SOURCE

STEPS TO HISTORY: ELLWOOD MANOR

When the lady of the estate returned to Ellwood Manor, she found the graves
 of 19 Union soldiers on  the lawn.

A beautifully carved stone step leads into Ellwood Manor, a Union headquarters/hospital.

Union General Gouverneur Warren, commander of the V Corps, used the stately Georgian-style manor of Southern sympathizer J. Horace Lacy as headquarters during the battle. The Union Army also used the house and surrounding grounds as a hospital site for thousands of wounded.  In his parlor office on the first floor, Warren may have received the staggering casualty figures: an estimated 18,400 Federal soldiers were killed, wounded or missing in the Wilderness.

"The appearance of the old place when we first returned was heart rending. All the paneling had been stripped from the walls, every door and window was gone, literally only the bare brick walls were left standing. The trees had been cut down, the yard and garden were a wilderness of weeds and briers, and there were nineteen Federal graves on the lawn. It was not until November that the worst places were sufficiently repaired for us to take possession, and then we had only attempted to restore part of the house."

-- Betty Churchill Lacy, second wife of J. Horace Lacy, in 1903.

SOURCE

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Antietam: Where General Longstreet, staff manned cannons

Confederate artillery position on Henry Piper farm, near Bloody Lane.

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After the Confederates were finally forced from the Sunken Road at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862, a wave of Yankees threatened the Rebels' thinly held center on Henry Piper's farm. A battery of Miller's artillery (above interactive panorama) had been positioned near the Sunken Road at about 10:30 a.m. to support the infantry in the lane. Later, one of the battery's caissons was hit by a Union artillery shell, and Confederate artillerymen were killed or injured, leaving the gun crews short during a critical juncture in the battle for the Rebels.

Confederate General James Longstreet
(Library of Congress collection)

Among the soldiers to come to the rescue was General James Longstreet himself, wearing carpet slippers instead of boots because of a sore heel. He held the bridles of  horses of some of his staff, who went into action as artillerymen in Piper's apple orchard.

As the Yankees drew near, Colonel John Rogers Cooke of the 3rd Arkansas reported he had run out of ammunition. Longstreet ordered him to hold his position -- by bayonet, if necessary. The officer replied that he " 'would 'hold till ice forms in regions where it was never known,' or words to that effect," Longstreet wrote decades after the war.

Moxley Sorrel, a member of the general's staff, described the desperate scene in his memoirs:

"The gunners had fallen by their places, which were temporarily without cannoneers. Longstreet was with us. [John] Fairfax, [Thomas] Goree, [Van] Manning, [James] Walton, myself and perhaps some others took our horses bridles as we leaped from them to the guns. The position was most important and it would never do for those 'barkers' to be dumb, even for a minute; so at it we went, the improvised gunners, and were afterwards cheered by being told we did it well and could always get a gunner's berth when we might want it. I had the rammer, No 1 I think it is. in the drill. Our fire was really strong and effective until some reliefs from the Washington Artillery came up ventre a terre and with hearty shouts took their guns in hand. The enemy opened a severe fire on us, but fortunately none of our party was hurt. We mounted again with cheerful grins at our sudden adventure and Longstreet, much pleased, turned his attention to other imperiled points."

The Confederates' center held that afternoon, and a disaster was averted for General Robert E. Lee.

Longstreet and Confederate General Daniel Harvey Hill established a headquarters at Piper's farmhouse, seen below in another interactive panorama. The barn, greatly enlarged from its war-time appearance, was used by the Rebels as a hospital.

More than a decade ago, when the Piper farmhouse was open as a bed & breakfast, I stayed there for two nights. On my last evening, I sat on the porch and watched the fireflies light up over the fields. "We like to think the souls who fought here are still among us," the B&B owner said.

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            CLICK HERE FOR ALL MY INTERACTIVE BATTLEFIELD PANORAMAS.

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A walk in the Wilderness, where George Austin 'disappeared'

Saunders Field, where 140th New York charged on May 5, 1864. Below: An interactive panorama.
(CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)

            Pan to the right to view the 140th New York monument in Saunders Field.

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To thousands of motorists who zoom past every day on Virginia Rt. 20, this scene -— a mile or so from McDonald's, a Sheetz gas station, E&M Auto Sales and Divine Nails -— is just another rolling field and patch of woods. Perhaps some don't have time to notice as they drive to their homes nearby in the upscale Fawn Lake subdivision, where streets are named for Civil War generals and signs mark "preserved" trenches and earthworks.

140th New York captain Augustus Meyer
 was mortally wounded during
the charge in Saunders Field. 
(Image courtesy 140th NYVI Living
History Organization)

But momentous, and tragic, events occurred here in Saunders Field along the historic Orange Turnpike and in the woods nearby on May 5, 1864—- the first day of the Battle of the Wilderness. This is where 529 soldiers in the 140th New York, its ranks filled with immigrants from Germany and Ireland, burst from the woods on a wet, foggy morning that soon turned hot, charging an enemy entrenched near a distant woodline. Dressed in the regiment's colorful French North African Zouave uniforms, soldiers named McNamara, McVeen, Sprinkler, Seiger, Vanderhuff and Ziegler, among others, gained a foothold in that woodline. But after about 30 minutes, the Rebels forced them to retreat. The U.S. Army regiment suffered nearly 50 percent casualties.

This is where German immigrant Augustus Meyer, the 34-year-old father of 5-year-old girl named Therese, suffered a wound in the abdomen. Initially expected to recover, the captain died 19 days later at a hospital in Fredericksburg, Va., roughly 15 miles away.

The Genesee Valley Railroad transported Meyer's remains to Rochester, where the former clerk in a dry-goods company was buried in Mount Hope Cemetery. A newspaper described his well-attended funeral service as "of a most imposing character," probably little comfort to his wife of seven years, Augusta.

"An uncomfortable rain storm prevailed during most of the afternoon,"  the Rochester Evening Express, "and so large a turn out, under the circumstances, was an expressive testimonial of the respect in which Capt. Meyers was held."

This is where 140th New York 1st Sergeant Charles L. Taylor,  a blue-eyed, 36-year-old salesman and produce dealer, was killed. Nearly a month after the battle, a comrade searching the battlefield discovered his remains. The distinctive Zouave uniform and a brown beard were telltale signs the body was Taylor's, 140th New York veteran John B. Snyder noted shortly after the war. Elizabeth "Libby" Taylor left a light burning in a window in their house in Brockport, N.Y., according to an account, so her husband could find his way home. She died in 1918, having never re-married.

Saunders Field is where 24-year-old Sergeant Joseph Seiger suffered a mortal wounded. After he had mustered into Company E of the 140th New York in September 1862, he gave his widowed mother his $90 bounty and a major portion of his army pay. Before he enlisted, the unmarried laborer regularly gave more than $1 of his weekly $4 salary at Cunningham's Carriage Factory in Rochester to Mary Seiger, who had emigrated to the United States from Germany after her husband's death.

George Austin's marker in Lakeside Cemetery in
Hamlin, N.Y. (Find A Grave)

And this is where George Austin vanished.

Shortly after the 140th New York attacked that morning, the married private also suffered a mortal wound. When the regiment retreated about a half mile, it left its dead and wounded with the  enemy, noted Austin's friend, Private Charles W. Starin. George had "disappeared," according to an August 1865 pension affidavit signed by Henry Allen, a commanding officer in Austin's Company A, who added, "I have no personal knowledge of his fate." George's remains initially may have been buried by the Rebels, or, like many soldiers killed during this battle in the dense forests, his body may have rotted in the woods. A marker in Lakeside Cemetery in Hamlin, N.Y., honors the 27-year-old soldier, but it is unclear if he was buried there.

Shortly after dawn one recent rainy morning, I walk through the woods where the 140th New York gained its short-lived foothold. Dogs bark in the distance. Brown leaves crunch beneath my feet. A distinctive tat-a-tat-tat of woodpeckers echoes. An interpretive marker notes the mortal wounding nearby of a Confederate general. Remains of trenches from both armies zig-zag through the woods.

And near the end of my walk, I stop, briefly close my eyes and imagine the scene in May 1864.

The remains of Union trenches deep in the woods near Saunders Field.

 Confederate General Leroy A. Stafford was mortally wounded in woods near Saunders Field.

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SOURCES

• Widow's pension file documents for Augustus Meyer, Charles L. Taylor, Joseph Seiger and George Austin, National Archives and Records Service, Washington D.C. via fold3.com.