White Flint Bill
Sergeant
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2017
- Location
- Southern Virginia
I visited the Wilderness Battlefield a couple of weeks ago, and thought I'd share some photos.
On the night of May 4 the men of General A.P. Hill's Corp were stretched across the Confederate front. Exhausted and depleted from the day's fighting, the men were ordered not to dig in, as they were to be relieved by General Longstreet's Corps by midnight. The men fell asleep on their arms, many of them out of ammunition. At first light the next morning they were awoken by a massive Federal assault. Longstreet had not yet arrived. Hill's men were completely unprepared for the the Federal attack, and were utterly routed.
I took these photos of maps in the Visitor's Center which depict the situation. I wasn't aware of the glare until it was too late to get better pictures. Sorry about that.
One of my goals on the trip was to try and find the approximate place where Scales Brigade of North Carolina troops were that morning when they were overrun. While tromping around in the woods looking for it, I came across this impressive monument to the Vermont Brigade.
Here's what the monument looks like, from a distance.
And this is the approximate area where Scales Brigade (specifically, the 13th North Carolina Infantry) was when the assault began.
With the Confederates in full retreat, the Federals pushed forward toward a cleared area that was the small farm of a widow named Tapp.
In pursuit of the Confederates, the Federals burst out of these woods.
Four batteries of Confederate artillery from this location (the only organized Confederate resistance left) slowed the Federal attack, while General Lee was desperately awaiting the arrival of Longstreet's Corps. A.P. Hill personally helped man one of the guns that morning.
Of course what happened next is well known. Faced with imminent disaster, General Lee saw some fresh men running forward, pushing through Hill's retreating corps. Shelby Foote tells it best:
Lee saw a cluster of men running toward him, carrying their rifles at the ready, and shouldering Hill's fugitives aside.
"Who are you, my boys?" he cried as they came up in rear of the line of bucking guns.
"Texas boys!" they yelled, gathering now in larger numbers, and Lee knew them: Hood's Texans, his old-time shock troops, now under Brigadier General John Gregg — the lead brigade of Field's division. Longstreet was up at last.
"Hurrah for Texas!" Lee shouted. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and waved it. "Hurrah for Texas!"
No one had ever seen him act this way before, either on or off the field of battle. And presently, when the guns ceased their fuming and the Texans started forward, they saw something else they had never seen: something that froze the cheers in their throats and brought them to a halt. When Gregg gave the order, "Attention, Texas Brigade! The eyes of General Lee are upon you. Forward . . . march!" Lee rose in his stirrups and lifted his hat. "Texans always move them," he declared. They cheered as they stepped out between the guns. "I would charge hell itself for that old man," a veteran said fervently. Then they saw the one thing that could stop them. Lee had spurred Traveller forward on their heels; he intended to go in with them, across the field and after the bluecoats in the brush. They slacked their pace and left off cheering. "Lee to the rear!" began to be heard along the line, and some of them addressed him directly: "Go back, General Lee, go back. We won't go unless you go back." He was among them now, flushed with excitement, his eyes fixed on the woods ahead. They stopped, and when an attempt by Gregg to head him off had no effect, a sergeant reached out and took hold of Traveller's rein, bringing the animal to a halt. "Lee to the rear! Lee to the rear!" the men were shouting. But his blood was up; he did not seem to hear them, or even to know that he and they were no longer in motion. At this point a staff colonel intervened. "General, you've been looking for General Longstreet. There he is, over yonder." Lee looked and saw, at the far end of the field, the man he called his war horse. For the first time since he cleared the line of guns he seemed to become aware that he was involved in something larger than a charge. Responding to the colonel's suggestion, he turned Traveller's head and rode in that direction. On the way he passed in rear of General Evander Law's Alabama brigade, about to move out on the left. "What troops are these?" he asked, and on being told he called to them: "God bless the Alabamians!" They went forward with a whoop, alongside the Texans, who were whooping too. "I thought him at that moment the grandest specimen of manhood I ever beheld," one among them later wrote. "He looked as though he ought to have been, and was, the monarch of the world."
A monument in honor of the Texans marks the spot.
Longstreet not only stopped the Federal advance that morning, he launched a devastating counterattack that rolled up their flank, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
But any chance of exploiting the success of the attack was ruined when General Longstreet was severely wounded by friendly fire late that day. This is the approximate place on the Orange Plank Road where he was shot.
And so, the brutal see-saw day of fighting ended where it had begun--near the intersection of the Brock and Orange Plank roads.
On the night of May 4 the men of General A.P. Hill's Corp were stretched across the Confederate front. Exhausted and depleted from the day's fighting, the men were ordered not to dig in, as they were to be relieved by General Longstreet's Corps by midnight. The men fell asleep on their arms, many of them out of ammunition. At first light the next morning they were awoken by a massive Federal assault. Longstreet had not yet arrived. Hill's men were completely unprepared for the the Federal attack, and were utterly routed.
I took these photos of maps in the Visitor's Center which depict the situation. I wasn't aware of the glare until it was too late to get better pictures. Sorry about that.
One of my goals on the trip was to try and find the approximate place where Scales Brigade of North Carolina troops were that morning when they were overrun. While tromping around in the woods looking for it, I came across this impressive monument to the Vermont Brigade.
Here's what the monument looks like, from a distance.
And this is the approximate area where Scales Brigade (specifically, the 13th North Carolina Infantry) was when the assault began.
With the Confederates in full retreat, the Federals pushed forward toward a cleared area that was the small farm of a widow named Tapp.
In pursuit of the Confederates, the Federals burst out of these woods.
Four batteries of Confederate artillery from this location (the only organized Confederate resistance left) slowed the Federal attack, while General Lee was desperately awaiting the arrival of Longstreet's Corps. A.P. Hill personally helped man one of the guns that morning.
Of course what happened next is well known. Faced with imminent disaster, General Lee saw some fresh men running forward, pushing through Hill's retreating corps. Shelby Foote tells it best:
Lee saw a cluster of men running toward him, carrying their rifles at the ready, and shouldering Hill's fugitives aside.
"Who are you, my boys?" he cried as they came up in rear of the line of bucking guns.
"Texas boys!" they yelled, gathering now in larger numbers, and Lee knew them: Hood's Texans, his old-time shock troops, now under Brigadier General John Gregg — the lead brigade of Field's division. Longstreet was up at last.
"Hurrah for Texas!" Lee shouted. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and waved it. "Hurrah for Texas!"
No one had ever seen him act this way before, either on or off the field of battle. And presently, when the guns ceased their fuming and the Texans started forward, they saw something else they had never seen: something that froze the cheers in their throats and brought them to a halt. When Gregg gave the order, "Attention, Texas Brigade! The eyes of General Lee are upon you. Forward . . . march!" Lee rose in his stirrups and lifted his hat. "Texans always move them," he declared. They cheered as they stepped out between the guns. "I would charge hell itself for that old man," a veteran said fervently. Then they saw the one thing that could stop them. Lee had spurred Traveller forward on their heels; he intended to go in with them, across the field and after the bluecoats in the brush. They slacked their pace and left off cheering. "Lee to the rear!" began to be heard along the line, and some of them addressed him directly: "Go back, General Lee, go back. We won't go unless you go back." He was among them now, flushed with excitement, his eyes fixed on the woods ahead. They stopped, and when an attempt by Gregg to head him off had no effect, a sergeant reached out and took hold of Traveller's rein, bringing the animal to a halt. "Lee to the rear! Lee to the rear!" the men were shouting. But his blood was up; he did not seem to hear them, or even to know that he and they were no longer in motion. At this point a staff colonel intervened. "General, you've been looking for General Longstreet. There he is, over yonder." Lee looked and saw, at the far end of the field, the man he called his war horse. For the first time since he cleared the line of guns he seemed to become aware that he was involved in something larger than a charge. Responding to the colonel's suggestion, he turned Traveller's head and rode in that direction. On the way he passed in rear of General Evander Law's Alabama brigade, about to move out on the left. "What troops are these?" he asked, and on being told he called to them: "God bless the Alabamians!" They went forward with a whoop, alongside the Texans, who were whooping too. "I thought him at that moment the grandest specimen of manhood I ever beheld," one among them later wrote. "He looked as though he ought to have been, and was, the monarch of the world."
A monument in honor of the Texans marks the spot.
Longstreet not only stopped the Federal advance that morning, he launched a devastating counterattack that rolled up their flank, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
But any chance of exploiting the success of the attack was ruined when General Longstreet was severely wounded by friendly fire late that day. This is the approximate place on the Orange Plank Road where he was shot.
And so, the brutal see-saw day of fighting ended where it had begun--near the intersection of the Brock and Orange Plank roads.
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