Manton's Gettysburg

Had I owned the land in that neighborhood (Gettysburg) and wished to dispose of it, I would have described it as rolling in the advertisement. There were two ridges rising gradually as they approached to, and forming together at the point of woods referred to. The one on the left constituted a part of a flourishing wheat field, the opposite a meadow, being divided by a rail fence. On the left the 4th U. S. Battery took position, supported by the 25th and 107th Ohio of our Brigade, while the 1st Brigade moved up on the right to the woods. Our regiment and the 75th Ohio acted as a Reserve to the Battery and Brigade, resting on the right ridge, and forming a triangle with them. As soon as I became aware of the above, we were ordered to change our position, which we did by moving up to the woods, over two rail fences, and forming in line on the right of the first brigade.

I concluded if falling over fences was to be the principal occupation of the afternoon, I had better drop my trunk, which had a tendency to prevent an active move, and forced the impression, whenever I salaamed to a shell, that my back was just high enough to be in direct range. So I determined to dispense with the luxury, and dove my hand in it, to relieve it of a few necessary evils, when the order came to fall back. There was no time to sling it, so I clutched it in one hand, and hanging on to my Enfield with the other, went over those fences clack-a-ter-clack, to the tune of an Artillery jig, my bobbing knapsack, crazed and bewildered, catching my successor over the rails, exactly under his chin, to the imminent dislocation of his neck. Regaining the old ground, I rested the trunk and went headlong inside of it, searching for the necessaries. Then the order came to change front, and I was forced to reappear without accomplishing my object.

I was intending to express the deep state of my feeling about that period, but the thought that Pennsylvania was invaded, aided by two feet of musical R.R. iron, shut me up, and I moved and dogged with the rest. When we got quieted again I took a fresh chew, and completed another dive, just in time to hear the order to change back, and I came forth with a face unequalled by a boiled lobster, and with my back so far up that it came nigh scraping acquaintance of unpleasant closeness with a "spherical case" just going by on a through ticket. At the close of this last move Colonel Fowler bid us rest all we could, for we would need all our strength, adding with a laugh, "Beware of the big ones, boys, the little ones will take care of themselves," referring to the shell flying over us, and the forthcoming bullets. The rebel battery on our right plied its calling industriously, but with little damage, throwing over.

During the execution of the last order, the 4th U.S. opened on a battery across the plain which was playing severely on the right of the 1st Corps. At the first discharge I like to have went through the top of my cap, it was so sudden and unexpected, and as for depth of tone, would nearly equal the 2nd Knapp at Chancellorsville. The boys unslung their knapsacks, and flung themselves full length on the ground, to await the opening of the play. I looked back of us, in search of the remainder of the Corps, but it was nowhere in sight; the fields between us and the town were free from troops. I thought it strange that just our Division-- a 11th Corps Division at that-- should be posted so far to the front. But if West Point does not qualify a man to do the military, what will? The last query silenced me, and dropping the subject, I primed my Dahlgren afresh, and looked up the hill. Meanwhile the ammunition of our battery gave out, as also hopes of a fresh supply. One of the guns came around to our right, and took up position covering the noisy sideshow that had troubled us so sorely. The last charge was rammed home, and in impatient expectation the men waited for the caissons.

It was at this juncture that the attack on our line began. The crack of rifles in the woods brought us to our feet. Another rattle followed, and then a continual roar. The 75th led up, as we in close column wheeled to the right. It was then that the first Brigade gave way, and simultaneous with the order to deploy and charge, the Germans struck us. All was confusion immediately. Such another Babel I never witnessed. The Dutch fumed, crowded, and swore, and our boys, determined to follow the brave Fowler, yelled defiantly, and forced their way through the timid sheep, up, up to the woods. As I gained the colors, there was a cry for us to cease firing, as we were shooting our men. One glance from the advancing line coming up through the trees was sufficient to allay my fears. That butternut colored suit never covered a Union frame and so I gave my Erricsson free rein. The fire had now grown terrific on both sides, but the decidedly superior advantage of the enemy, both in numbers and position, told heavy on us. Although a man is not apt to notice what occurs about him in the midst of leaden hail, yet I could not help but be aware that a fearful avalanche of death was sweeping through my Regiment. It was one continual hiss about my ears, and the boys dropped in rapid succession on both sides of me. The only one of our Company that I saw after we opened was Corporal Scott, whose rifle spoke well among the rest. The enemy continued to move slowly up, firing rapidly. The din had reached the standard of a hell, and then the order to retreat was given. Colonel Fowler shouted the command to us, and the next instant he reeled from the saddle, his brains striking the Adjutant, who was by his side. The 17th fell slowly back from that fatal ridge, with the victorious but desperately contested enemy within but a few feet of us.

While the battle was raging so hotly at the woods the officers of the 1st Brigade were endeavoring to rally and form their panic stricken crowd in our rear. By dint of the sword, revolver and a moderate dose of Teutonic brimstone, they succeeded in keeping them all together till we got to them. But a sight of the gray Sardines as they emerged from the woods, in addition to a heavy volley, operated similar to an emetic, and they threw themselves away in a decidedly loose manner. Affairs took a Chancellorsville hue at this period, every man for himself. Yet there was not the same amount of rallying, being confined exclusively to the 1st brigade officers, who flung up their swords in an agony of despair, and shouted "rally" till their voices reached their boots. The enemy were cautious about venturing out of the shelter of the woods, fearing an ambuscade in the wheat. Had they pressed on us closely, we could have filled more graves. The boys fell back in a more extravagant way then they did on the Rappahannock, taking advantage of every opportunity for an effective shot. I saw Rufus Warren as the rout became general. He lay on his side crying for help, but none could be given him then. He was the only one of our wounded that I saw. When I got about half way across the large wheat field, a general guide in the 1st brigade ran past me with his staff in his hand crying "Oh Gott, Oh Gott, how vill I get out of dis," and the next instant he bounded in the air, throwing the staff from him, and striking full length in front of me, stiff in death. In his haste to get away from the bullets he got directly in range of one and it finished him.

Crossing the field I came to a lane, leading into the main street. Here I found a portion of the 75th under charge of a Lieutenant. They lay in the lane waiting for the rebs to come up. I got down with them, and by twisting about several times managed to stay nearly a minute, but my natural excitable temperament, coupled with an anxiety to find the Company, would not admit of my laying there, so I got up, and perched myself on the opposite fence for observation. I soon found enough to pay for the venture. In front of me were the Chivalrous bummers from the South, feeling their way along slowly up, maintaining a continuous fire. On the left the 1st Corps were still at it, although fast losing ground. Along the lane on the right where it struck the street was a large barn containing a number of our wounded and those that were not. One individual of the latter class attracted my attention at once, and held me riveted, to use a new expression. Loading his gun with a calmness and precision that enchained me, he stepped from the door, and resting his weapon against the corner, deliberately fired, keeping back himself, his tender heart refusing to see a man die. I hope folks in Harrisburg kept within doors, for there was danger in their streets about then. I watched the heaven born hero go through the motions several times, and fixing my rose bud of a mouth for a expansion, when a bullet struck the rail on which I was sitting, and without looking around to see who fired it, I went right over backwards into the field. Regaining my feet, I started for the town, following along back of the gardens till I came to a cross street.

In the main street I found the 4th U.S. drawn up to sweep through all obstacles with canister and grape. Men and officers of a dozen different commands were flocking up the street, shrieking out names of their regiments, commanding and countermanding. Frightened horses, swearing drivers, ambitious patriots, crazy citizens and the deuce only knows what, a conglomeration of all that was devilish, Babelish, and skittish. I sat down on a stone wondering where the 17th could have possibly got to. After a moments rest I moved up the street, as far as the Railroad crossing, and there I found five of our Company, with the colors, and a number of the regiment in charge of Captain Burr. George Brady caught sight of me, and yelled out my name in a tone slightly terrific. We had a shake hands, and then followed inquiries about absent ones. Wm. Otis informed me that Captain was killed, also the Orderly. Oh, God! I shall never forget the sensation that passed over me on the receipt of the news. Exciting as the scene was about me, I could realize the terrible loss that had come upon us. A Captain that was a Father; an Orderly that was a Brother. Noble, just and brave. They are gone forever from among us, but their memories will live in our hearts till time shall be no more.

The coming in of the skirmishers cut short all sad reflections. Major Brady now assumed command. Gen. Ames rode up, and getting the brigade in shape, marched us to the right of the town to check an advance of the enemy in that quarter. A few moments previous to this, the 2nd Division came up, and formed beyond us on the right, but one or two sound volleys weakened their knees, and sent them back into town as if chased by the itch. Encouraged by their success the enemy pushed up more rapidly. It was then that we were formed. We had a fine position in the rear of some lumber piles, where, unlike small children, we could be heard and not seen. The sight was a fine one. Beyond us were the enemy coming across the fields in straggling order, with that four square, dirty rag, trying to get up a flutter among them. On they come, while the music of our rifles sounded out a welcome to them. We were just getting warmed up, and I had secured a position out of reach of a hero behind me, who seemed determined to kill a Reb through my cranium, when we were ordered to retreat, and accordingly fell back to the old place at the rail road. Again the women of Gettysburg showed their bravery and devotion, supplying us with water and food as we fell back, perfectly regardless of sundry bullets that whistled, snug and hissed in their usual way.

We got back to the rail road street in time to meet the flying columns of the 1st Corps as they were driven in on our left. Then occurred Babel the third. The two Corps mixed and pushed up the main street, driving several hundred prisoners with them. Several ambulances got among them, increasing their facility for moving. The battery, having been through it all, determined to see it out, even through we had taken in another Corps and then brought up the rear. For my part the crowd was too thick, so I proposed to Otis to keep behind, taking advantage of the different shelter for using our guns. Otis agreed, and we entered upon a systematic course of street firing, which looks very pretty in print, but is not so nice in experience. But it is time to close for this week.

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