Some things cannot be outright explained, they can only be felt.
I’ve never been a firm believer in the supernatural realm, but at the same time I’ve never been a staunch skeptic of spectres, poltergeists and all (anti)matters of things ‘that go bump in the night.’ I’ve never seen a ghost, but I’ve experienced places and spaces that I have little doubt are inhabited by some things that all matters of modern science simply can’t explain.
Three immediately come to mind. The first I experienced at a friend’s old, rural farmhouse in Howick Township during my elementary school days. The most recent was in college around 2004, when some friends and I toured the infamous Nicholas Street Gaol in Ottawa, the site of where Canada’s last public execution by hanging apparently took place. Being in one of those cramped, claustrophobic cells was certainly a creepy experience.
The second was by far the most all-encompassing. It’s difficult to describe exactly, unless you’ve been to the site in southern Pennsylvania for yourself. There’s something about the air within the Gettysburg National Military Park that feels thicker. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck, likely just based on the sheer fact of knowing that so many people died in a relatively small geographic area. There is a presence there that leaves a metallic taste in your mouth, and I tasted it during a high school trip to the U.S. in 2002. It was also the trip that solidified my lifelong interest in the American Civil War.
Exactly four years to the day before Canada officially became a nation, the United States was deadlocked in an extremely bloody campaign to prevent theirs from ripping itself apart. The Civil War had already been raging for two years at that point, with neither side really gaining significant progress one way or the other. The only thing that was truly definitive by the time July 1, 1863 rolled around was that the Union and Confederacy had both suffered staggering casualties, and the bar was about to be set even higher in terms of the most devastating engagements ever fought on North American soil.
In terms of killed, wounded and missing, the Battle of Gettysburg would become exactly that – the bloodiest single engagement ever recorded on the continent. Prior to Gettysburg, topping the Civil War casualties list were clashes such as Shiloh, Antietam and the Second Battle of Murfreesboro (Stones River), which were largely fought in 1862; each caused around 25,000 casualties to both the Northern and Southern armies. Gettysburg would see double those figures with an estimated 51,000 killed, wounded and missing by the time the cannons and muskets finally fell silent after three days of vicious fighting.
It’s extremely difficult to summarize Gettysburg in one fell swoop, pertaining to a single op/ed commentary. There were simply too many facets, players and separate side engagements to include. But for those unfamiliar with the battle, I will endeavour to break down the lead up to fighting, the three-day clash itself, and the aftermath. It’s somewhat bare bones, but here we go.
I may have been hasty in saying earlier that neither side had gained significant progress through the first two years of the war. Militarily, one could argue that the south held the advantage in terms of success on the battlefield leading up to the summer of 1863. Confederate commander Gen. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia had achieved stunning victories at places like Fredericksburg – and more recently Chancellorsville that May – often facing superior Union numbers. He was a master strategist and his men adored him. But perhaps some of the problem was that Lee himself started to believe in his own invincibility.
Economically, the northern states were booming. War is big business, and the Union factories were turning out munitions at breakneck speed. The southern states, which were largely agricultural-based and relied on slave labour to support their economy, had the armaments they had and that was going to be it, they simply didn’t have the industry to sustain a longer conflict. Nor did they have the men. The North was more heavily populated – albeit still largely divided on the subject of slavery – and volunteers and conscription gave the Union a decisive overall edge in terms of numbers, especially after Black soldiers were permitted to enlist.
But at Gettysburg the two opposing forces were fairly even, with each side numbering close to 90,000 or so troops. By battle’s end around one-third of those would be casualty figures. Logistically staggering numbers in comparison to how modern wars are fought.
After his success at Chancellorsville, Lee was ready to spring his ambitious invasion of the North into action, opting to assemble his combined forces in southern Pennsylvania after learning that the Union forces under newly-appointed commander Maj. Gen. George Meade were in the region (they were indeed – Meade had been ordered to find and destroy Lee’s army). It was only 80 miles from Gettysburg to the northern capital of Washington, D.C., and the latter’s capture would have been a massive victory for the South.
The first day of the battle was still vicious but somewhat tentative compared to the bloodbath that was to follow over the final two. Seeking supplies, southern troops marched into Gettysburg only to find that Union calvary units had already arrived the previous day. The Confederates drove back the Union troops, who would ultimately be supplemented significantly by reinforcements overnight, after one of Lee’s subordinate generals opted to not press the advantage with an attack. This was despite his commander’s orders. Failures to act quickly on the offensive and broken lines of communication would play a significant role in the Confederacy losing this battle. Spoiler alert.
By day two, the Union Army had stretched its strong defensive position from an area called Culp’s Hill to Cemetery Ridge, right down to its extreme left flank on a wooded rise known as Little Round Top. There is an area just to the west of Little Round Top called the Devil’s Den, and that’s where I referenced feeling that eerie presence earlier in this piece. It’s a rough terrain dotted with boulders prime for cover, and it was here that both sides suffered huge casualties. If there was ever a haunted place in the entire Civil War theatre of battle, it would no doubt be here.
The Confederates would continue on to Little Round Top with the objective of outflanking the Union line and running over its forces from the rear. Enter the 20th Maine Infantry Regiment, commanded by Col. Joshua Chamberlain. After driving back repeated Southern charges up the rise, the Union troops were precariously low on ammunition, and so Chamberlain ordered a bayonet charge, one of the best-known tales of the entire war. The North caught the South off guard with their gallant (and desperate) counter-attack, so much so that those who managed to avoid being killed or wounded were forced into a hasty retreat.
Despite having suffered thousands of casualties on day two (as had the North), Lee still believed his forces to be on the verge of victory after making up ground on the Union centre. He followed a very similar battle plan on day three as he did on day two, but the Army of the Potomac turned him back. After being forced to reorganize his troops and attack again, part of Lee’s central plan involved what would later become known as ‘Pickett’s Charge,’ with Maj. Gen. George Pickett leading over 12,000 infantry troops and calvary across nearly a mile of open field to make a frontal assault on the Union centre. It must have been a sight to see, albeit an extremely ill-fated one.
Approximately one half of the Confederate soldiers involved in the charge did not return after a retreat was ordered. Pickett’s division lost two-thirds of its entire complement. After returning to the Confederate headquarters to report to Lee following the disastrous charge, a distraught Pickett was told to re-form his division in case of a Union counterattack, to which he famously told his commander: “General, I have no division.” It was the culmination of a disastrous day for the South, and Lee would order the retreat from Gettysburg shortly after, all 17 miles of wagons carrying the wounded in tow.
Meade did not order pursuit, and was heavily criticized afterwards for not attempting to completely destroy Lee’s army then and there. No doubt it had something to do with the Union troops being exhausted from the three-day fight as well. Regardless, the victory at Gettysburg – which happened 160 years ago this week – coupled with Ulysses S. Grant’s triumph at Vicksburg the next day would mark the beginning of the end of the Confederacy, which was effectively split in two. President Abraham Lincoln would make his storied ‘Gettysburg Address’ at the dedication ceremony of the Gettysburg National Cemetery that November.
But it would still be two more long years before the Civil War would reach its conclusion. With dwindling resources and a destroyed infrastructure, the Confederate States of America would be forced to surrender on April 9, 1865. Lincoln would wind up serving as a peacetime president for less than 50 days, when John Wilkes Booth assassinated him only a week after the war ended.
Thanks for reading and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight.
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This is a bi-weekly opinion column; for question or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.
