No shame to Pickett’s men for this.  The charge should not be distinguished for mere gallantry, but for something far superior—­endurance.  From right and front and left, a semicircle of fire converged upon their ranks and strewed the ground with their dead.  For half a mile they advanced under an iron tempest such as Confederate troops never saw elsewhere than at Gettysburg—–­ a tempest in which no army on earth could live.

I was hoping that the line would break and run before it came under the fire of infantry; but it did not break.  It was ragged, because the gaps could not be filled as fast as they were made; but the fragments kept on up the hill, uniting as they went.

And the line disappears in smoke, which tells us, as well as the sound, that the Federal infantry and ours have at last joined their battle.  Here and there we see a real battle-flag violently shaking; the thunder of the cannon no more is heard; the smoke recedes, and our men—­those that are left, but not the line—­still go forward.

Pickett has reached the hostile infantry.  On his left and right swarm out against his flanks the army of the enemy, while in his front still stand the stone bulwarks over which but few of his men live to pass.

Yet the fight still rages.  The Federal skirmishers everywhere have long ago withdrawn, so that we can stand and move and watch the struggle for the graves.  In a narrow circle on the hill, where a few trees stand, smoke builds up and eddies.  Up there death and fate are working as they never worked.  Lines of infantry from either flank move toward the whirlpool.  They close upon the smoke.

Now we see a few men dropping back out of the smoke and running half-bent down the hill.  Their numbers increase.  All who have the hardihood to run try to escape, but many remain and become prisoners.

A brigade or two of the enemy advance from their works on their right and endeavour to intercept the fugitives.  A brigade of Confederates advances on our left, but stops in the wheat.  The battle of Gettysburg is over.

XXXIV

FALLING-WATERS

                 “Prepare you, generals: 

The enemy comes on in gallant show;
Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
And something to be done immediately.” 

          
                                                          —­SHAKESPEARE.

On the night of the 4th the retreat began, Pender’s division leading.  Rain fell in torrents.  Rations were not to be had.  The slow retreat continued on the next day and the next.  At Hagerstown we formed line of battle.

The sharp-shooters were in front.  The Federal skirmishers advanced against us.  We held our own, but lost some men.

The rain kept on.  We were in a field of wheat, behind rifle-pits made of fence-rails.  We rubbed the ears of wheat in our hands, and ate the grain uncooked.  The regiment sent out foraging parties, but with little success.  There was great suffering from hunger.