The Gettysburg Campaign: Part 3

As the evening of July 2, 1863 approached, the massive Confederate assault on the Union left had begun to wane. Despite initial successes, Longstreet’s attack came to a halt as his units lost momentum due to their own losses and the impact of resistance from Federal reserves. Longstreet’s attack was to have been coordinated with an assault by Ewell’s corps on the Federal right. Ewell’s attack was to have functioned as a demonstration or diversion, which would become a major attack if the opportunity presented itself. Ewell planned his attack to move from left to right, with Johnson’s division moving up the steep, rocky slopes of Culp’s Hill, followed quickly by Early’s division assaulting the northeastern side of Cemetery Hill.

Unfortunately for Lee and his army, Ewell did not attack when Longstreet did and, in fact, his attack did not start until Longstreet’s offensive was over and darkness was quickly overtaking the battlefield. Johnson’s men made their attack on Culp’s Hill and became engaged in a protracted, vicious fight in the darkness that saw them make gains on the lower portion of Culp’s Hill, but nowhere else. The Federal forces on the hill, meanwhile, had been weakened by withdrawal of units needed to shore up the Federal left and center. However, the remaining Federals under the command of Brigadier General George Greene put up tremendous resistance and, eventually, the XII Corps units that had been pulled away returned to help stall the Confederate attack. Had Johnson attacked at the correct time, those units might have been unable to return in time to help Greene fight off the attack. Once again, as would happen throughout the battle, Confederate efforts had been blunted because their inability to coordinate attacks allowed Meade’s army to shift forces when needed.

When Johnson’s men were engaged on Culp’s Hill, Early began to move the brigades of Hays and Hoke against Cemetery Hill. While the Union defensive position there might have appeared formidable, they were not so strong as one might expect. First, the XI Corps units manning the defenses on the hill had been badly mauled by Ewell’s men on July 1 and, now, they had to ensure they defended both sides of the hill from attack. Next, the position was essentially a salient that pointed north towards Gettysburg. As such, it was vulnerable to simultaneous attacks from the west and east sides and, as noted by Confederate General Porter Alexander, it was especially susceptible to enfilading artillery fire. In fact, Alexander considered the position both vulnerable enough and strategic enough to have warranted the focus of Lee’s attack on July 3 instead of Cemetery Ridge.

It must also be noted that Cemetery Hill was, indeed, of great strategic importance to the Army of the Potomac. It was the anchor point for the north end of the Union line and its loss could have led to the collapse of the entire right flank of the army. In addition, Cemetery Hill and Culp’s Hill both were vital to control of the Baltimore Pike and, thus, Meade’s lines of communication and a potential avenue of retreat.

Given the hill’s salient nature, a simultaneous attack against the northeastern and western face of the Union defenses would have seemed the best chance for success. Apparently, there was some thinking in this direction as Ewell had intended for Rodes’ division to attack the opposite side of the hill. Once again, however, a Confederate unit was not in position when it should have been and, in this instance, did not even seem to attempt an attack. In fact, Rodes’ maneuvers could hardly even be referred to as a feint. However, Rodes was not entirely to blame. He was expecting Pender’s division from Hill’s corps to support his right, but Pender’s men never materialized despite pleas from Ewell. This sort of lack of cooperation was not unique within the Army of Northern Virginia, and, at Gettysburg, it was not only a typical problem, it was also a fatal flaw.

As a result, Early’s men attacked Cemetery Hill without support on their right, confining the attack to the northeastern side of the hill. The opposing XI Corps’ infantry were made more vulnerable when their division commander, Adelbert Ames, elected to shift the 17th Connecticut to the right, creating a gap in the line near its northern end. Early’s men took advantage of the gap and drove through it and up the hill towards the Federal artillery. Several of Ames’ regiments fell back and reformed to defend the guns, while other stoutly maintained their positions at the base of the hill. As the fighting ensued in darkness, XI Corps units from west of the pike along with Carroll’s brigade from II Corps were able to bolster the Union defenders and counterattack to drive Early’s men off the hill. Here once more, the lack of coordinated Confederate pressure allowed Union forces to shift manpower when they needed it most. That ability, combined with hard fighting by the defending XI Corps infantry and artillery, was enough to turn Early back and end the threat to Cemetery Hill.

The next morning, Lee ordered a second attack on Culp’s Hill. In all likelihood, Lee intended that this attack would take place at the same time as an assault by Longstreet on the right flank. But, once again, poor coordination and the inept Confederate command system resulted in problems for the Army of Northern Virginia. Pickett’s division, which was supposed to move up and be ready to attack at dawn, was not in place, and Ewell’s men were left to attack on their own.

Historian Jeffrey Wert states his opinion that Lee had no knowledge of the “tactical situation on Ewell’s front” when he issued the order. But, Ewell overrode the objections of his own commanders and supported Lee’s orders. Ewell should have known better but Ewell had never personally examined the terrain and Union defenses on Culp’s Hill. This lack of tactical awareness seems to have plagued the Confederate command structure at Gettysburg. At critical moments, there seems to have been a distinct lack of awareness by key commanders, including Lee himself, of terrain, of defenses, and of the overall tactical situation. This kind of awareness is what any modern soldier would term as the all-important “preparation of the battlefield.” Why it was in such short supply in the Army of Northern Virginia is a compelling question.

The XII Corps defenders were planning a counterattack to regain the lower portion of the hill when Ewells men struck. Despite the fact Ewell had doubled the number of attackers, the assault would fail. The Union field fortifications, the terrain, and the actions of the Federal defenders were simply too much for Ewell’s men to overcome. Despite three separate assaults by Johnson’s men, they would never really come close to breaking the Union line atop the upper hill and they were badly mauled by the intense rifle fire of the XII Corps. While the victory at Culp’s Hill was crucial for the Union’s position, the Confederate attack was probably a misguided and ill-fated effort. Even if it had been coordinated with an attack by Longstreet, it probably would have failed. The Union defenses were simply too strong and the forces on-hand were more than sufficient to turn Ewell’s men back. In the end, it was an unnecessary and useless waste of good men.

With Pickett’s men absent, Lee now considered his alternatives. He was determined to attack again and, again, he summarily dismissed Longstreet’s idea of a move around the Federal right. At first, he wanted Longstreet to attack the Union left as planned with McLaws, Hood, and Pickett, once the latter arrived. When Longstreet was able to talk his commander out of this idea, Lee began to focus on the Federal center, on the copse of trees on Cemetery Ridge that would soon become so much a part of the collective American memory.

When stripped down to its basic elements, Lee’s plan for what became popularly known as “Pickett’s Charge” was very basic. His concept called a large-scale infantry assault against the Union center on Cemetery Ridge, which was to be preceded by a massive artillery barrage. Once the leading infantry units broke through the Federal line, they would be quickly followed by supporting troops who would then exploit the breakthrough and turn down the Federal line, rolling up the defending Union infantry in the process. It was shock assault tactics at its most basic, relying on firepower and focused use of mass.

However, despite the fact that the plan was developed by a man regarded by many then and now as a tactical genius, it was badly flawed. The plan for the attack relied heavily on the ability of Confederate artillery to either seriously damage Federal batteries or force them to pull their guns back. This was a critical ingredient in the plan because Lee’s infantry would be forced to cross nearly a mile of open terrain where they would be within range of Federal guns almost from the moment they stepped off. Therefore, for the infantry, it was matter of exposure both in the sense of the terrain as well as in time and distance. Unfortunately, the Southern artillery was not up to the task. Its long-range ammunition was in short supply and much of it was of poor quality.

In addition, preparation of the battlefield was again lacking. Not only would the open, slightly undulating terrain expose the Southern infantry to Federal artillery fire, the point chosen for the attack could not have been worse in that it allowed virtually every battery the Army of the Potomac to be used to counter the attack. Not only would batteries on Cemetery Ridge come into play, but Federal guns on Cemetery Hill and Little Round Top would be able to reach out and hit the attacking infantry. In fact, over 120 guns would eventually be deployed against the Confederate assault. Further, there were the fences along Emmitsburg Road. These would slow the infantry down and break up their formations just as they came within effective rifle and canister range of the Union positions. These factors should have been obvious to an experienced military engineer like Lee, but they were apparently either overlooked or dismissed. As Porter Alexander would later observe, “The point selected and the method of attack would certainly have been chosen for us by the enemy had they had the choice.”

When the attack began, Confederate artillery did unleash a seemingly impressive barrage. However, while noisy and spectacular, it did not achieve the desired results. Federal artillery was not silenced. In fact, it soon began to respond and gave back more than it received. Lee’s guns received effective counter-battery fire, which further limited their effectiveness. In fact, Porter Alexander, whose job it was to advise Longstreet and Pickett when the latter should move his infantry forward, was finally moved to do so primarily because he was running out of both ammunition and guns.

Picketts’ infantry assault is notable primarily for its bravery. The men went in as ordered and Federal long-range artillery began to take an immediate toll. By the time they reached the fences, their combat power was already beginning to wane. The effect of the fences was exactly as could have been predicted. Those who made it beyond the road were subjected to heavy rifle and canister fire as they moved up the gentle slope towards the stone walls on the ridge. They would actually pierce the Federal line at several points, but a staunch defense and localized counterattacks turned them back. It was all a matter of a poorly conceived and planned attack going against a determined, well-positioned defender. No amount of bravery would change the outcome.

While one might ask what would have happened if Pickett’s assault had succeeded, it is perhaps better to ask if it ever could have succeeded. First, it should be noted that exploring “what ifs” in past battles is a tricky and difficult task. Anyone who has ever conducted a postmortem examination of a military operation can tell you that it is a difficult thing to do, even if the battle was yesterday. The problem is that there are so many variables and so many nuances that could be influenced by a single change in events. This problem compounds itself as time passes, making “what if” analyses a practice that might be fun, but one that rarely produces much of historical value.

Still, when one examines Pickett’s attack, it must be said that, as planned, it had little chance and, as executed, it had even less. Confederate artillery was simply not up to the task it was given and, without it being effective, the attack simply could not suceed. Further, there is also the question of the use of supporting troops to exploit the breakthroughs made by Pickett’s men. Indeed, there was such a role planned for Wilcox and Lang’s brigades, but Longstreet, who opposed the entire concept for the attack, never sent them forward. If he had, one might wonder if they would have made a difference.

However, the answer to that question is that they probably would not have made an effective difference. Had they followed close on the heels of Pickett and Pettigrew’s men, they would have been subjected to the same long-range artillery fire, especially from the batteries along the Union flanks, which ceased to fire at the leading assault elements once they closed on Cemetery Ridge. In addition, the use of supporting troops to exploit a breach in the enemy’s lines was a difficult thing to accomplish during the Civil War. Follow-on units had a tendency to become crowded in with those in front of them and had problems trying to maintain a cohesive formation as they approached the point of attack. In this case, one can well imagine Wilcox and Lang’s forces, having been weakened by artillery fire as they crossed the field to Emmitsburg Road, simply bogging down as they crowded in with the surviving elements of the lead assault, before they too were subjected to a galling close range fire, and melted away at the stone wall.

Meanwhile, as Union defenders turned Pickett back, there was also some significant action occurring along the flanks by Federal Cavalry. On the Union right, General David Gregg’s men outfought Stuart’s cavalry in a fight for control of roads critical to the Union position. Had Gregg failed, Stuart could have easily threatened the Union rear and altered the character of the battle. Perhaps more potentially important, however, was the fighting along the Union left. Here, Kilpatrick and Merritt conducted cavalry operations that, while costly and disjointed, offered an opportunity to counterattack Lee’s army in the aftermath of Pickett’s defeat. When reading the accounts of Farnsworth’s ill-fated attack, one cannot help but wonder what the Federal infantry on the Union left was doing during this time. Here was a golden opportunity to drive McLaws’ and Hood’s men from the field and roll up the Confederate right, if only someone had ordered it. It raises question as to how much Meade knew about these operations as they were occurring. It would appear that, while he would later report these actions, he either knew little of them as they happened or simply did not see the opportunity they presented.

As it happened, Meade did not order a counterattack of any kind, even though men like Hancock recommended it. Some historians believe that Meade’s decision to simply take what he had won was a wise one and the only realistic option. It may have been so, but only because Meade seems not to have prepared for such an eventuality. He had mentally accepted the defensive role and had no contingency plan for anything but staying where he was or retreating. Swiftly organizing an offensive counterattack by a force committed wholesale to the defensive would probably have seemed an impossible and irresponsible thing to do to George Meade. Certainly, Ulysses Grant might have done otherwise if placed in the same situation, but that is yet another tantalizing “what if.”

The Vision Place of Souls

I am writing this essay on Memorial Day weekend and, given the special significance of that date, I wanted to write a little bit about Civil War battlefields. If you have ever visited a Civil War battlefield, you may have noticed that visitors come in all sizes and shapes, and their visits are fueled by a host of varying motivations. You will see families on vacation, and observe parents desperately trying to interpret the map they picked up at the visitor’s center, while their children burn off all the energy they have been forced to hold inside on what seems to them like an endless ride in the car. The children joyfully laugh and shout, climbing all over the cannons and memorial statues, blissfully ignorant of the significance of the place they are visiting. You will also see the tour groups, often made up of senior citizens or foreign tourists. These visitors may have some understanding of the battle that took place here, but they are far from experts. They listen to their tour guide politely and conduct themselves properly; respecting the ground they walk upon, but not really connecting to it in any meaningful way. Then, there are the visitors with a deeper, more tangible interest. They are historians, amateur and professional, or those often referred to as Civil War “buffs.” No matter which, for them, these battlefields are very special places, and I count myself among this group.

We visit battlefields for of a variety reasons, but, often as not, we go there to study and to learn. We want to see the places we have read about and visualized in our mind’s eye, adding a tangible reality to the events we have studied. There is also the need to actually see hills, creeks, and woods we have only seen on a map up to that moment. And there is the desire to stand in the same place a corps or regiment commander once stood, see what he saw, and, in doing so, attempt to gain a better understanding of the decisions he made. We also seek to understand the flow of events and how this physical place affected them. Sometimes, these visits become very clinical, as in the case of a classic tactical study, such as the Army War College’s Staff Rides. I have seen visitors pouring over books, commenting on which regiment was where, how they advanced, and what impact their movements had, critiquing the events of some 145 years ago. However, while these things are all very useful and productive products of a battlefield visit, there is so more to be gained from a battlefield.

Beyond these very academic and almost sterile experiences, there is also a deeply emotional and almost spiritual experience to be had, a connection to be made, if you can find it and allow yourself to feel it. That connection will tell you a story in a way that no book ever can, and allow you to see things and feel them in a way that will forever change how you study the events of this national tragedy. I think the first thing one should connect to is the place, what it was and what it became. These places really are not merely a geographic location where a battle occurred on certain date. Once, they may have simply been a small town, surrounded by farms and fields, quiet, serene, and pastoral places where people worked the soil, raised their families, and experienced the joys and sorrows that comprise a lifetime. Then, one day, thousands of uninvited guests arrived in the form of competing armies, and these armies were made up of men who longed to be anywhere else but here. However, fate had brought them to this place and, here; they would create a true hell on earth. When the armies left, the fields and the town would never be the same again.

Oh, they might be quiet even now, probably still seeming serene and pastoral to the eye. But the heart knows them to be something entirely different. These empty fields, still ponds, and lazily meandering country roads now have names. They are called The Corn Field, The Wheatfield, The North Woods, and The Peach Orchard, as though there are no others. The pond is now known as the Bloody Pond and a once nameless country road is called The Bloody Lane for reasons to cruel and horrible to contemplate. And for those reasons, these now peaceful places contain a great and, yet, undefined power, one that will also allow you to connect with those that were here, those that forever changed these places.

The first time I experienced this connection was in 1994 on my initial visit to Gettysburg. The trip was the fulfillment of a childhood dream and I was determined to make the most of it. Armed with a guidebook, I drove throughout the battlefield and walked many miles, trying to see everything that I could. As late afternoon approached, I found myself wandering the ground where Pickett’s men had assembled before they made that last desperate charge. As I slowly made my way through the trees below Seminary Ridge, I thought of the thousands of men and boys who crouched here, listening to the artillery barrage, and anxiously looked across all that open ground between themselves and Cemetery Ridge where the Union II Corps awaited them. I found myself asking out loud, “What were you thinking?” And, at that moment, I almost felt like someone was trying to tell me. It was not an audible answer, not even a whisper. At the same time, however, it was something very real and visceral. It was as though the ground I stood on and the air around me was filled with a strong, yet undefined presence.

Now, I am not easily given to such feelings. I am not a believer in either the paranormal or ghostly apparitions, and that is not what I am describing. This was more emotional and very real yet, still, very ethereal. It was suddenly as though I had been given a wonderful gift, a feeling that was very much my own but, at the same time, came from many others, from those who had been here, who had been a part of that moment. As I continued my journey around Gettysburg, these sensations grew stronger, perhaps because I was now so very aware of them. I decided to just go with them, to see what they told me. I am forever grateful that I did so, because they have followed me to every battlefield I have visited since that day.

What this emotional connection, this presence, has told me is a different story for every field, every place. However, in every case, it has been the story of the average soldier, what they saw, what they felt, while experiencing something too awful for most of us to truly comprehend. The intensity of that connection is almost too strong to describe in words. It is something that fills one up, overwhelms you, but also provides great clarity. The resulting sense I am left with has been the same no matter what battlefield I am walking upon: great pride balanced by equally profound sorrow, and a sense of incredible tragedy that is combined with humble gratitude.

Exactly what this presence is and what to call it is a difficult matter. When walking a battlefield, I have seen others who feel it. They are the ones who, like me, always speak to one another in hushed tones as they wander the field, behaving as though they are in a church, in a place of sacred memories. And, perhaps they are, for these fields carry the memories of those who fought here, both those who would return home and the many thousands who did not. Lincoln said at Gettysburg that we could not dedicate, consecrate, or hallow that ground because those who fought there had already done so far beyond our mere mortal abilities. Perhaps that is what I feel when I walk a battlefield.

However, there was someone else who attempted to define this power, this presence: Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, the venerable Maine college professor turned soldier and the great hero of Little Round Top. After the war, like many veterans, Chamberlain sought to find some reason, some purpose to the horrors he had witnessed. A gifted writer and eloquent speaker, Chamberlain would ably put into words what so many who had served felt so very deeply. As a result, he and a few others, like Oliver Wendell Holmes, would become spokesmen for a generation of Americans. But, in 1889, when Chamberlain spoke at the dedication of his unit’s memorial at Gettysburg, he would provide something perhaps even greater by describing what he believed would be the source of the emotions I have felt ever since I first visited Gettysburg 15 years ago. More than that, he also was defining the true legacy of every Civil War battlefield and doing so far better than I ever could.

"In great deeds something abides. On great fields something stays. Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger, to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls. And reverent men and women from afar, and generations that know us not and that we know not of, heart-drawn to see where and by whom great things were suffered and done for them, shall come to this deathless field, to ponder and dream; and lo! the shadow of a mighty presence shall wrap them in its bosom, and the power of the vision pass into their souls.”

If you are a Civil War historian like me, one of the thousands of Civil War buffs, or just an interested battlefield visitor, I would urge you to listen to Chamberlain, and seek what he described. If you do, it will take you on a fascinating journey and, most importantly, a journey that honors those whose presence you feel and whose vision you now embrace.

The Role of Moral Courage at Gettysburg-Part 3: Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

The last of my essays on moral courage and the role it played in the Union victory at Gettysburg concerns on of the most famous engagements during the battle—the defense of Little Round Top and the Union left flank by Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain.  This action has been made famous to modern-day Americans by Michael Shaara’s book, “The Killer Angels,” Ken Burn’s PBS documentary on the Civil War, and, lastly, the film “Gettysburg,” which was based on Shaara’s novel. Chamberlain has become something of a larger-than-life figure and his resolute defense of his position has become legendary, as well it should. Now, however, let me tell the story and demonstrate how it is, perhaps, one of the truly great examples of moral courage.

About the same time Hancock was dealing with the crisis on the left center of the Federal line, an equally crucial fight was occurring on the far left at Little Round Top. The fighting there developed as Longstreet’s men continued moving to their right, probing for the far left of the Union line in attempt to flank the Army of the Potomac. As the Confederates drove Sickles back from the Emmitsburg Road, Meade dispatched General Warren to evaluate the situation in the hilly terrain just south of Sickles embattled lines. Riding to the crest of Little Round Top, Warren could clearly see that Longstreet’s assault was extending its line and it would soon envelop Sickles’ position. He also discovered that the hill on which he stood, which was defended by nothing more than a few Signal Corps officers, was the key to the defense of the whole left flank of the army.

Confusion ensued as Warren sent for help. Meade had dispatched the 5^th Corps under General Sykes to move to the left towards Little Round Top, but he feared it would not arrive in time. Therefore, he diverted General Humphreys’ division from 3^rd Corps to the left but, upon hearing that Sykes was closer than anticipated, he countermanded his order to Humphreys and sent 5^th Corps instead. But still no one arrived on the stony hill at the south end of the Union line. Warren sought out Sykes and found him calmly surveying the area behind the Wheat Field. Warren explained the situation and Sykes immediately sent a dispatch to General Barnes ordering him to move a brigade from his division to Little Round Top as rapidly as possible.

The rider sped off but, before he could find General Barnes, he met Colonel Strong Vincent at the head of his brigade. Vincent stopped the dispatch rider who told the colonel he was carrying orders for General Barnes. Vincent asked what the orders were and was told that one of Barnes’ brigades was needed at the top of “that hill yonder.” Vincent responded that he would take the responsibility and move his brigade of four regiments to Little Round Top.

Vincent then led his brigade in a mad dash across Plum Run and up the back side of the hill. Vincent chose a spur about two-thirds of the way up the southwest side Little Round Top to deploy his men. The 16^th Michigan Infantry anchored the right and maintained a tenuous connection with the 4^th Maine in the valley below, while the 44^th New York and 83^rd Pennsylvania Infantry took the center positions in Vincent’s line. On the far left, Vincent placed the 20^th Maine, telling its newly appointed commander, Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, that his position was critical.

Passing to the southern slope of Little Round Top, Colonel Vincent indicated to me the ground my regiment was to occupy, informing me that this was the extreme left of our general line, and that a desperate attack was expected in order to turn that position, concluding by telling me I was to" hold that ground at all hazards." This was the last word I heard from him.

In some ways, Vincent could not have made a worse selection for this vital position than the 20^th Maine. Unlike the 1^st Minnesota, the 20^th Maine was not a veteran, experienced regiment. Mustered for duty in Portland, Maine, on August 29, 1862, the regiment had seen less than a year in service. In that time, it had been in the rear during much of the Battle of Antietam, had seen some action at Fredericksburg, and had missed the fighting at Chancellorsville entirely because the regiment was quarantined for smallpox vaccinations. However, at the same time, losses to desertion, sickness, and battle casualties had still managed to thin its ranks. In fact, as Chamberlain deployed his regiment, he had only 386 men on-hand to hold the left of the Army of the Potomac.

As for Chamberlain himself, one could not find a man more the opposite of Hancock and Buford in terms of background and experience. Like so many others in the Army of the Potomac, Chamberlain was a volunteer. A college professor of religion, languages, and rhetoric at Bowdoin College who had been trained and educated to be a minister, Chamberlain had mustered in with the 20^th Maine and been appointed its Lieutenant Colonel. At that time, the regiment was placed in the command of a Regular Army officer, Colonel Adelbert Ames. Under his tutelage, Chamberlain had worked hard to learn the ways of war. He soon discovered that he had a talent for tactics and, most importantly, an aptitude for command. Following Chancellorsville, Ames was promoted and Chamberlain became the commander of the 20^th Maine. As a result, when he was called upon to defend the left at Little Round Top, he had been in command for only six weeks.

Chamberlain deployed his men in a line from the right, maintaining a firm connection to the 83^rd Pennsylvania, “giving such direction to the line as should best secure the advantage of the rough, rocky, and stragglingly wooded ground.” As his regiment prepared to find cover behind the rocks and timber strewn about the hillside, Chamberlain sent 50 men from Company B, under the command of Captain Morrill, out to the left of his line to act as skirmishers and “to guard against surprise on that unprotected flank.” While Chamberlain was positioning his men, Confederate artillery fire continued a nearly constant barrage on the hillside. The 20^th Maine had barely taken its position when the artillery fire stopped and was replaced by the first of several infantry assaults.

The first attack was made by Robertson’s brigade and initially hit the Federal units to Chamberlain’s right. But the attack quickly spread to the left and the right of Chamberlain’s regiment soon found itself “hotly engaged.” Within minutes, however, the center and left of the regiment were threatened by an even stronger attack. While Robertson’s brigade attacked the center of the Little Round Top defenses, a portion of Law’s brigade, consisting of the 47^th and 15^th Alabama Infantry Regiments, had moved to the right around the base of Little Round Top and up the sides of Big Round Top to the south. From here, they moved down into the hollow between the hills and then began wheeling up the sides of Little Round Top to strike the exposed Federal left.

As the 47^th Alabama struck Chamberlain’s center, one of Chamberlain’s officers thought he saw movement to their left and informed his commander. Upon hearing this, Chamberlain mounted a high rock from where he could see the 15^th Alabama “moving rapidly but stealthily toward our left, with the intention, as I judged, of gaining our rear unperceived.” Since his regiment was already engaged to its front, Chamberlain could not alter his front to meet the new attack that was coming toward his completely exposed left flank. Rather, he elected to stretch the intervals of the right side of his regiment, extending them all along the front, then “refused” the left half of the regiment, bending it back at a right angle. This complicated maneuver was accomplished while under fire and left the 20^th Maine in a position that resembled a horseshoe.

  No sooner had the regiment performed this maneuver than it was struck by the 15^th Alabama. That regiment’s commander, Colonel William Oates, had seen the 20^th Maine’s movements but apparently thought the Federals were about to flee the hillside. Therefore, he pressed his attack forward with a vigorous charge. But, instead of attacking a front vacated by retreating troops, he was struck by a “most galling fire.” Oates’ men fell back but reformed and went up the hill again, as did the 47^th Alabama on their left. This time, they pressed to within a few yards of Chamberlain’s position before the heavy and effective fire from the Maine men drove them back. Soon, however, they came on again and Chamberlain remembered the fighting as “a fierce struggle and bloody beyond any that I have witnessed.”

The two lines of men met and then broke, then met again with the fighting “literally hand to hand.”

At times, I saw around me more of the enemy than of my own men, The edge of the conflict swayed to and fro—now one and now the other party holding the contested ground. Three times our line was forced back, but only to rally and repulse the enemy. As often as the enemy’s line was broken and routed, a new line was unmasked, which advanced with fresh vigor.

Soon, the attack began to take a heavy toll. Not only had Chamberlain lost nearly 130 men, but the 60 rounds of ammunition each soldier in the regiment had been carrying when they climbed Little Round Top were nearly gone. Those who could still fight were taking rounds from the wounded, from abandoned cartridge boxes, and even from the dead enemy soldiers lying around them. Some of the Maine men picked up Confederate rifles and fought with those rather than their own Enfields. Chamberlain noted the enemy reassembling for another attack and reformed his shattered lines as best he could. Nearly out of ammunition and with much of his small regiment out of action, the situation was indeed grim.

It did not seem possible to withstand another shock like this now coming on. Our loss had been severe. One-half of my left wing had fallen, and a third of my regiment lay just behind us, dead or badly wounded. At this moment my anxiety was increased by a great roar of musketry in my rear, on the farther or northerly slope of Little Round Top, apparently on the flank of the regular brigade, which was in support of Hazlett's battery on the crest behind us. The bullets from this attack struck into my left rear, and I feared that the enemy might have nearly surrounded the Little Round Top, and only a desperate chance was left for us. My ammunition was soon exhausted. My men were firing their last shot and getting ready to "club" their muskets.

As his officers reported their status and his men turned to him, wondering what he would call upon them to do, Chamberlain would later say, “My thought was running deep.” He could fall back and hope another unit was waiting in reserve, but he knew better—behind him there was no one. His men could stay where they were, but they had no ammunition left to stop the advancing enemy. A lesser man, a lesser officer, would have fallen back and let this become someone else’s problem—but Chamberlain was made of better stuff than that. He later reported that “Officers were coming to me, shouting that we were ‘annihilated,’ and men were beginning to face to the rear. I saw that the defensive could be maintained not an instant longer.”

In Chamberlain’s mind, abandoning his position was not an option. His incredible solution was to fix bayonets and go on the offensive. Captain H. S. Melcher later recalled that “Colonel Chamberlain gave the order to ‘fix bayonets’ and almost before he could say ‘charge!’ the regiment leaped down the hill and closed in with the foe, whom we found behind every rock and tree.” The attack caught the exhausted Alabamans, who were about to retreat on Oates’ order, completely off guard. In addition, Chamberlains men charged down the hill in a wave from left to right, swinging like a large gate. This confused Oates completely and he thought another regiment had flanked him. About this time, Captain Morrill’s company, along with some U.S. Sharpshooters who had joined them, reappeared from behind an old stone wall and opened fire on the rear of Oates’ surprised men. This was too much for the Alabamans. They broke and ran “like a herd of wild cattle” as Chamberlain’s men swept down on them with fixed bayonets.

The Confederate attack was completely broken. In their desperate counterattack,  Chamberlain and his small band took over 390 prisoners and the Federal left was secured. Had the Confederates taken his position, perhaps they would have been too tired and their numbers too thin to have exploited the breakthrough. However, the ebb and flow of battles can rest on small things, especially when men are tired and emotions are strained to the limit. Had Chamberlain allowed the loss of his position and the Confederates appeared on the exposed rear and flank of the remainder of Vincent’s brigade, their mere presence might have been enough to cause the entire Union defense to collapse. With that, Lee would have possessed the high ground dominating the rear and flank of the Army of the Potomac. Meade might have had to fall back, surrendering the hard fought for ground around Gettysburg.

In the years that would follow, Chamberlain would receive the Medal of Honor and his decision to charge when out of ammunition would be the subject of many discussions. But, perhaps what was most noteworthy was his decision to stay and fight at all and the example he set as a leader. Under incredible pressure, he held his regiment together, executed difficult maneuvers under fire, and highlighted forever how important small unit tactics can be to the outcome of a great battle. In fact, more than 120 years later, the U.S. Army Leadership Manual, FM22-100, would devote its first 12 pages to Chamberlain’s defense of the Union left at Little Round Top as a case study in leadership and unit cohesion under fire. In other words, over a century later, every young Second Lieutenant would learn how to lead under fire from the record of a college professor who became a great soldier. Perhaps, there is no better tribute than that.

In deciding to fight his delaying action west of Gettysburg, John Buford exercised his finely honed professional judgment and chose a difficult and courageous path. In doing so, he also determined where and how George Meade would fight his battle against Lee. As it turned out, his choice gave the Union forces control of good terrain for a defensive fight against the Army of Northern Virginia, and, thus, presented them with a strong tactical advantage. Had he not made the choice he selected, the entire nature of the battle might have changed.

Winfield Scott Hancock, on the other hand, also had to exercise his professional judgment, but one of a more terrible nature, and one commanders must sometimes face. He had to quickly decide how to buy five precious minutes and, when the only option seemed to require the sacrifice of a regiment, he took that choice. Had he not done so, the Federal center would have been broken, possibly resulting in the collapse of the entire line. The Army of the Potomac might have been forced off the vital ground they occupied and might even have been sent reeling from the battlefield.

Unlike Buford or Hancock, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain was the amateur, but a gifted one to be sure. Here was a professor-turned-soldier faced not only a difficult tactical situation, which he managed magnificently, but also a difficult decision. Told he must hold his position at all costs, he had lost over a third of his men and did not have sufficient ammunition to hold the coming enemy assault. In this situation, he could have abandoned his position and no one would have probably questioned it. But he knew the dangers to the army if he did so and felt it his responsibility as a commander to hold the extreme left of the Army of the Potomac, no matter the price. His solution, to go on the tactical offensive and charge the enemy with fixed bayonets, was brilliance born of desperation, while his decision to stay and fight was the product of a moral courage few men possess.

Three men made three decisions and demonstrated that the course of a great event often turns upon small things. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of decisions made in the days that encompassed the Gettysburg campaign. But the three decisions discussed here clearly show that some decisions mean more than others. In addition, they demonstrate how the abilities and courage of one man, even if he is not at the top of the chain of command, can alter the course of history.