Chapter X.GETTYSBURG.

God send us peace! And where for aye the loved and lost recline,Let fall, O South, your leaves of palm, O North, your sprigs of pine!But when with every ripened year, we keep the harvest home,And to the dear Thanksgiving feast our sons and daughters come,When children’s children throng the board in the old homestead spread,And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the head,Long, long the lads shall listen to hear the graybeard tell,Of those who fought at Gettysburg, and stood their ground so well;“’Twas for the Union and the flag!” the veteran shall say,“Our grand old army held the ridge, and won that glorious day!”Edmund Clarence Stedman.

God send us peace! And where for aye the loved and lost recline,

Let fall, O South, your leaves of palm, O North, your sprigs of pine!

But when with every ripened year, we keep the harvest home,

And to the dear Thanksgiving feast our sons and daughters come,

When children’s children throng the board in the old homestead spread,

And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the head,Long, long the lads shall listen to hear the graybeard tell,Of those who fought at Gettysburg, and stood their ground so well;“’Twas for the Union and the flag!” the veteran shall say,“Our grand old army held the ridge, and won that glorious day!”

And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the head,

Long, long the lads shall listen to hear the graybeard tell,

Of those who fought at Gettysburg, and stood their ground so well;

“’Twas for the Union and the flag!” the veteran shall say,

“Our grand old army held the ridge, and won that glorious day!”

Edmund Clarence Stedman.

We arrived on the field of Gettysburg at nine o’clock A. M., July 2nd, and without rest were ordered into the front line of battle. Ourbrigade consisted of the 9th and 32nd Massachusetts, 4th Michigan, and 62nd Pennsylvania. We had hardly got into line, when the enemy advanced directly upon us, and for an hour we had it hot and heavy.

Here our regimental loss was heavy, but we finally repulsed them, and soon after changed position to a piece of woods bordering on the wheatfield. Here a line was engaged in the wheatfield, and the ground was covered with the wounded and dead. We advanced and relieved them, when the enemy charged us with such overwhelming fury that we were obliged to fall back.

Here Colonel Jeffers of the 4th Michigan and a color sergeant of the same regiment were killed, trying to save their flag, but it was captured, and a part of the regiment were taken prisoners.

We could not stand the terrible storm of leaden hail, and were retreating when our brigade commander halted us and ordered us to face the charging enemy. It was a fatal act for many of the Thirty-second! We fought our way back inch by inch, union and confederate men inextricably mingled; so we fought until we gained theshelter of the woods. I had lost my regiment, but saw the Pennsylvania Bucktails fixing bayonets for another charge, so I stepped into their ranks to charge with them, when I saw my regimental colors, with four of the color guard near by, so joined them and waited for the boys to rally under the old flag, when we again advanced into the bloody fray.

I look back with pride upon the valor shown that day by my brave comrades; at Little Roundtop, the Wheatfield, in the Loop, many a brave boy of the 32nd gave up his life, in that terrible struggle. Our regiment carried into the fight 227 men, and we lost 81 killed and wounded. My tentmate, Dwight D. Graves, went down severely wounded in the foot, and another comrade, Calvin P. Lawrence, was left on the field with a broken leg when we fell back. As the rebs charged over him, one of them turned to bayonet him, but his lieutenant prevented him, and asked the wounded man,

“Where’s your men now?”“You just keep on, you’ll find them!” was the reply, as the men swept over him. Soon they rushed back in full retreat, and our brave comrade shouted after them, “I say, leftenant, Iguess you found them.” We kept the field, and all that night I spent looking over the battle ground for wounded comrades, giving to one a drink of water from my canteen, placing a knapsack under the head of another, covering another from the chilly air with a blanket picked up on the field, and doing what I could to relieve their suffering.

“Where’s your men now?”

“You just keep on, you’ll find them!” was the reply, as the men swept over him. Soon they rushed back in full retreat, and our brave comrade shouted after them, “I say, leftenant, Iguess you found them.” We kept the field, and all that night I spent looking over the battle ground for wounded comrades, giving to one a drink of water from my canteen, placing a knapsack under the head of another, covering another from the chilly air with a blanket picked up on the field, and doing what I could to relieve their suffering.

Morning came, and our brigade remained near Little Round Top, receiving our full share of the storm of iron hail, throughout the artillery duel of the third day. Then came Pickett’s desperate charge, the final effort of the enemy, who never got further north than here. Then came the retreat of the enemy, and our pursuit of them back into Virginia.

During the battle, my cousin, James A. Shepard, of the 18th Massachusetts received his death wound, while going to a spring to fill several canteens for his comrades. I saw him the day before the battle bright and cheerful. I heard he was wounded, but did not learn of his death until some days after, when a letter from home gave me the following account of his death and burial.

He was shot in the shoulder, severing anartery, and died in a Philadelphia hospital a few days after the battle, but lived to see his widowed mother, who was telegraphed for, at his request.

When she arrived at the hospital, she stood a moment at the door of the ward where her boy lay on his deathbed, and where the long rows of beds and their occupants all looked alike to her; she heard his voice at the further end of the room, saying “Oh mother, mother! here I am come quick!” and soon the heartbroken mother knelt by his bedside, while he, happy in her presence, talked of the battle and tried to comfort her.

“I know I’ve got to die,” he said, “But never mind, mother dear, it is in a glorious cause, and we whipped the rebels good!” Poor boy, he was only twenty, yet was willing to die for his country!

As he grew weaker, he talked of the dear ones at home, and wished he could have bade them goodbye.

“Kiss them for me, mother,” he said, “And take me home, and lay me beside my father, and put some flowers on my grave from the dear old home garden, that I have so longed to see!”

His mother remained with him until he died, and through untold difficulties, she brought his body home, being obliged to smuggle it part of the way, and now, in the family lot, he lies beside his father and mother. Two of his brothers also lie buried there, Charles, who served in the Massachusetts heavy artillery, and George, who was badly wounded in the head while serving in the navy; he never fully recovered, and died soon after the war ended.

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