More Dispatches From Gettysburg
Irish America Marks The Battle's 135th Anniversary
THE ARMIES GATHER
ALL EYES TURN TOWARD GETTYSBURG
THOUSANDS PATIENTLY WAIT IN LINE TO JOIN THE LOOMING FRAY
CORRESPONDENT FINDS THE CAMPS SEEM TO STRETCH FOREVER
15,000 MAKE THEIR WAY THROUGH THE BUREAUCRATIC MAZE
DOOLEY'S ENCOUNTER WITH OUR SOUTHERN CORRESPONDENT
Near GETTYSBURG, Pennsylvania -- 8 p.m., July 2 (1998)
The sun was likely to
set tonight on hundreds, if not thousands, of individuals waiting in long
lines snaking along the grounds of a farm in order to participate in the largest re-enactment in history.
I myself spent more than two hours to complete the process of registering
for the event, one of 1,100 to 1,200 individuals similarly waiting in the
bright sun on a farm used to house, feed and administer a major motion
picture six years ago. The site is about two miles southwest of the scenes
of the most epic fighting in American history, the July 1-3, 1863, fighting
at Gettysburg.
I joined the line of registrants at 4 o'clock and finally became 'official'
shortly after 6 o'clock with the line now an additional 30-60 yards long.
The throng, dressed in summer clothes or period garb and uniforms or a
decidedly haphazard mix, stayed calm and used the delays to chat with
neighbors often from places far from their homes.
Several boys sold bottled water for $1 a piece from the back of a
small-pickup. Some 1,100 to 1,200 people waited in line in my sight, with
line snaking around feeding into a large red-barn used in the filming of
the epic film "Gettysburg." six years ago. Those staffing the process
announced that no one could participate who hadn't previously registered.
This was likely a bid to keep the total number of participants within a
15,000 ceiling required by local authorities in turn for permission to use
the site and local roads.
| More than 1,000 people waited in line in my sight |
While waiting my turn, I met two lads from Texas, in their early to
mid-20s, one of German stock, the other French, from the metropolis of
Dallas online . The pair said they had spent 20 hours on the road to reach
here, stopping only in Roanoake, Virginia, for overnight lodging Wednesday
night. They will join 70 others to portraying men of the 1st US Infantry
regiment. I also encountered Norm Ervine, a cannoneer from the 1st North
Carolina Artillery, hailing from Ocean City, NJ, Norm Ervine. He told me
that his unit would be firing a 12-pounder Napoleon field piece during the
event. The gun will be one of scores expected to roar from both sides of
the great divide this weekend, culminating with the extended barrage that
will precede Pickett's Charge this Sunday.
Upon leaving the registration area for the camps, I had a chance encounter
with one of my fellow Irish correspondents, Lt. Patrick Craddock, from
Tennessee, who had flown in with a group of fellow "Vols," members of
Cleburne's Brigade.
| A chance encounter with the men of Cleburne's Brigade |
I found Confederate re-enactors sitting and relaxing in
the the early evening sun and, lo, found the group to be 'pards' of the
lieutenant's. He gamboled up to me shortly thereafter, uniformed with all
but weapons and coat. Considering the thousands at the event, we defied the
odds in having such an meeting. The Gods of war seem truly to be smiling on
our venture so far.
I ventured to the Federal army's camps, located several miles and a narrow
country road from the registration barn. The road we traversed was barely
narrow enough for two-way traffic. Pedestrians suffered in the competition
for room. Those afoot had to move into the adjacent ditches to accommodate
passing vehicles.
The camp seems ideally situated, rich with leafy shade trees to offer
respite from the hot Pennsylvania sun. Even with only a portion of the
anticipated armies in place, the camp offered a dramatic scene -- tent and
tree and tent and tree extends as far as the eye can see.
The camp was expansive, just so many people. There seems to be a sense of
quiet expectancy among those here. There were no demonstrations of temper
despite the long-lines and, traffic backups.
| Tent and tree extends as far as the eye can see |
Individuals I met here seem a
moved by the vastness of this occasion, the sheer numbers and the occasion
we are here to recall. I found the excitement subdued, though, in contrast
to the much smaller event here five years ago, where there was more of a
sense of "Oh boy, I can't wait till tomorrow." The expression here suggests
that is is more like everybody understands that this is going to be awesome.
The event formally begins tomorrow. Among the more interesting activities:
an unveiling and dedication of the Lt. Gen. James Longstreet Monument at
9:30 a.m. at West Confederate Avenue in Gettyburg National Battlefield Park.
The fighting, at the Bushey Farm here in Freedom Township, begin tomorrow
afternoon with "First Contact" at 4 p.m. EST, followed by Buford's Stand,
The Iron Brigade, Heth's Division and Ewell's Division. At 6, spectators
will witness the Confederate Sweep, which ended up driving the Federal army
pell-mell through Gettysburg and onto Cemetery Ridge, setting the stage for
more epic combat the next day, when the Irish Brigade will join others in
the Federal army in a bid to blunt the Confederate attempts to win the war
with this one bold stroke.
-- 'Dooley'
DAY 1: THE ARMIES COLLIDE:
FIRST BLOOD AT GETTYSBURG
15,000 OR MORE MARCH TO OPENING SHOTS
HEAT AND HUMIDITY TAKE TOLL
WGT CORRESPONDENT 'DOOLEY' BRAVES
INDIGNITIES TO BRING BACK PARTICULARS
 GETTYSBURG, July 1, 1863, 9 p.m. (July 3, 1998) -- Our cavalry found the Confederates just outside this small burg, and fired the opening shots of a battle that would resound through American history. After stubbornly resisting the Confederate infantry’s onslaught, the horsemen were relieved by the Federal 1st Corps. Meanwhile, the Dutchmen of the 11th Corps found themselves overwhelmed by Confederates, who ultimately drove them through town with heavy losses in killed and captured.
This is what history has taught us about Gettysburg’s first day, and today’s opening volleys, marking the first shots of the battle’s 135th anniversary, resounded through the heavy, hot air as thousands of spectators watched nearly 15,000 armed men surge over the site’s hills and fields.
It was an exhausting day for this correspondent as I traversed the nearly 2 ½ miles that marked the extent of the armies’ camps on this 300-acre farm. The heat and humidity were high, approaching the sultry conditions the armies experienced 135 years ago. The skies were overcast. I have never witnessed such exhaustion on the first day of a campaign.
| 15,000 armed men surge over the site’s hills and fields |
To compound the physical hardships, I found myself unceremoniously rousted from the battlefield proper by the site’s security personnel, and shunned too by the strong-arms protecting the event’s press tent. It sometimes seems that authorities don’t take you seriously at these events unless you carry a rifle. I and Matthew Venturi, my dispatch carrier, viewed the battle then from the grounds outside a farmhouse, close enough to the fray to hail 25-30 troopers riding to join the firing line. The residents of the farmhouse, from their porch, and we from nearby, all enjoyed a nearly 360-degree view of the Confederate onslaught and the Federals’ dogged defense.
The Federals awaited the Confederates, who emerged over the crest of a rise, one line after another after another, eight or nine lines in a wave. They advanced 1/4 mile before the Federals opened fire, and thence for the next 90 minutes it seemed as if we slipped into the sights, sounds and sublime dance of war of another time. Full 75 minutes after the opening shots, both armies were out in the field at nearly full strength, perhaps 15,000 men and dozens of cannon, including at least three pieces moved frequently about by the Confederates with teams of horses.
Chilling was the word for the sense of Gettysburg that this afternoon provided. A number of soldiers told me later they lost a sense of where they were. The noise from the volleys came in a constant ebb and flow of popping and cracking. Charges burst in mid-air in the battle’s opening moments as the artillery from both sides began finding the range. At times the smoke from thousands of rifle and artillery rounds turned the soldiers into silhouettes, nearly full across my field of vision. The air was still and heavy, and the smoke from the weapons dissipated very, very slowly.
| The smoke from thousands of rifle and
artillery rounds turned the soldiers into silhouettes |
Eventually the Federal line broke, and 200-300 Federals were captured only about 100 yards away from my vantage point. At least a dozen men fell hors de combat and required treatment by emergency medical personnel and were conveyed from the field by ambulance. Men persisted in laying down fire upon the foe despite the ambulances’ presence nearby.
The troops I heard from were thrilled with the day’s experience. There was considerable speculation in the camps about the numbers of participants present, with guesses ranging from 17,000 to 22,000. The actual number may be a bit lower, likely near 15,000. I have no word on the number of paying spectators, though spectators ringed the entire field of battle, some standing, others sitting on the field or in bleachers. The field itself seemed to me nearly one mile wide by 1 ½ miles long.
I have faced a nearly one-hour wait for a telegrapher (read pay phone) to convey my dispatch, with only five of them to serve the event’s 15,000 or more attendees. Still, the palaver among those on line was congenial, and any sign of sectional enmity was left on the field. I carry the dispatches of two other correspondents. The lateness of the hour prevents me from conveying them till morning. I fully expect to also convey a dispatch tomorrow morn from Sgt. O’Beirne from the bivouac of the Irish Brigade. -- 'Dooley'
MORE DETAILS FROM GETTYSBURG
THE REBEL INVASION
Irish Volunteers Engage the Enemy -- They Recreate Poignant Moment in Life of Maine Regiment -- Early Federal Successes Give Way to Confederate Onslaught -- Confederates Drive Federals Through Town Severe Setback Sets Stage for Climactic Fighting -- Before the Battle -- Rebels from Tennessee fight boredom with high spirits -- Sheer spectacle thrills -- Horizon filled with advancing enemy troops
Special Dispatch to The Wild Geese Today
With the Irish Volunteers
Near GETTYSBURG, Pa., July 1, 1863 (actually July 3, 1998), 11:15 a.m. -- The camp of the Irish Volunteers battalion.
I arrived at the site about 7 o’clock pm last night, stood in line at registration for two hours, and found re-enactor parking with my two pards. We dressed in our uniform put on traps and packs in the parking lot and hiked 1.5 miles to camp.
The evening was hot and humid even through 10:30 p.m., and few people we met could tell us where the Irish Volunteers camp was in the dark. After finding the Irish camp in the woods, we had a hard time finding the 155th New York, Co I, bivouac. Many men from 69th New York, Co A, and the 28th Massachusetts were around, but could offer no assistance. We finally found our camp stumbling through the woods and dark, but all were asleep at 11 p.m. and the fire nearby out. We three unrolled our bed rolls (after gratefully dropping packs), spread out our blankets, and were asleep in 15 minutes. Somewhere off on edge of our camp some idiots were playing bagpipes, and the squealing noise that sounded like a bayonetted sow even did not keep us from slumber.
We awoke after a good sleep at 6 a.m, today, had drill at 8:30 a.m., and the more than 250 men of the Irish Volunteers performed well. The Volunteers have two companies of the 69th New York from California, and we field 8-9 companies total. Heat and humidity was already high when drill started, but the sons of Erin did well in our 90-minutes of drill. I will be division sergeant of the guard at 12:30p and so cannot visit the sutlers, where most of the lads have gone now. This re-enactment site is so large that the sutlers are a 25-30 minute walk from our camp. A few pards rigged a shabang, and I sit under it now writing this. Heat is not too bad in the shade, but I was “wet through” right after drill. Formation is at 2 o’clock p.m. The rumor is there are secesh forces in the area and we may have a scrap soon.
-- Sgt. Kevin O’Beirne, 155th NY Co I, Irish Volunteers Battalion.
GETTYSBURG, July 1, 1863 (July 3, 1998), 3:15 p.m.
On the march to battle in “in support” of First Corps artillery brigade. At the brigade’s position, to our right are about 20 cannon, all firing. The smoke from their firing is thick and acrid. Air bursts explode near us. As we await our orders, some boys sit quietly and some talk with pards. I sit to the side and think of my wife Maureen back in Buffalo. I suddenly miss her more than ever. -- Sgt. K. O’Beirne
GETTYSBURG, 6 o’clock p.m., July 1, 1863 (July 3, 1998), In the camp of the Army of the Potomac
The Irish Volunteers did well portraying the 16th Maine.
We entered the field at the double quick and jogged a long way up a hill to a barn. With 300-350 men, the Volunteers’ battalion looked magnificent . We marched behind the Maine colors. With artillery on all sides firing, we jogged with thousands of men on each side. The heat and humidity is wearing. It must be at least 85 degrees F. We went into line near another barn and the boys fought well, advancing several times. By some poor generalship or what, I don’t know, troops on both our flanks retired and all the secesh ran and got on three sides of us.
 We refused our flank to the rear and our wings fought back to back but to no avail. Our company went from 50 men to six. We fought alongside the 69th New York’s Co B, from California, until Col. Air halted the action by ordering our survivors to surrender. The color guard ripped the US and Maine flags to shreds rather than see them surrendered to Mr. secesh. I got a piece of red from the National colors. The Rebels soon paroled us and the Irish Volunteers made their way into small groups back to camp. It was a poor day for the Union cause, but the Irish Volunteers did honor to the original 16th Maine, and we will give Mr. Secesh some trouble on the morrow. Now we are back in our camps, and I can see our green flags through the trees. Most of the boys are preparing dinner at the fire (after having cooled off after a very hot hike).
For God, Ireland and the Union , I am, Sgt. O'Beirne
Yankee Evenings Not Hot Enough for Tennessee Troops
A Special Dispatch to The Wild Geese Today, dated Near Gettysburg, July 1, 1863 (actually July 3, 1998), from a correspondent from Tennessee, says:
 With the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia -- Our journey from Tennessee to Gettysburg, much as any long-distance trip, started early yesterday, at 4 o’clock a.m. Meeting our group at the Nashville airport was much the same as our excursion to Ireland in 1992 with the Irish Brigade Association. Everyone was excited and upbeat about the trip -- looking forward to something that would last a decade like the last big event at Gettysburg 10 years ago. Our trip proved uneventful, and spirits ran high although we were packed in cargo vans like cattle between Harrisburg and the event site. Only the proverbial long-line at registration dampened our spirits. However, as is traditional with Cleburne’s Brigade, spirits were something we were in great supply of, liquid spirits, that is! For three hours, as we took turns waiting in line, the remainder of our band sat in the parking lot and raised many a bottle and glass to absent friends and comrades. Afterwards, as the line for registration was moving slower than expected, we were, by boredom and a chronic lack of imagination forced to continue our challenge against the bottle.
Finally, making our way to the camp, the men of Cleburne’s had a short and remarkably cool evening. Although the temperature only dropped into the low 60s, the natives of Tennessee and Mississippi awoke wishing for more blankets.
Most of today was spent lounging in camp waiting for the battle and hoping to somehow, in the midst of the tens of thousands of participants and spectators, find pards in other units we had not seen for a coon’s age.
The preparations for battle started as most others. Forming up under the midafternoon sun, standing for 30 minutes before we moved, then marching 100 yards and halting for 15 minutes before our commanders could figure out where we were supposed to be and how to get us there. As we inched forward to the field our anticipation grew as we could begin to hear firing in the distance. Twelve years in re-enacting did nothing to prepare me for the sight that greeted us as we emerged from the trees on the plain below was a line of blue-coated soldiers that snaked across the horizon, locked in mortal combat with a division of Confederate infantry. We moved halfway across the field and halted to dress our lines. To our surprise, another brigade of U.S. troops emerged on our left. The spectacle of watching the battle unfold was worth enduring the heat and marching across Pennsylvania. The battle today was a good opportunity to burn powder, but of little interest to this correspondent. I am looking forward to the battles tomorrow.
-- Lt. Patrick Craddock, Cleburne’s Brigade (serving here as with the 14th Tennessee Infantry)
Soldier Witnesses Fellow Fenian Fall and Must Abandon Him During Rout
 GETTYSBURG July 1, 1863 morning (actually Friday the 3rd)
With the Army of the Potomac
With the rumored advance of the Rebels, our company is fully alert. Finally, off in the distance I can hear heavy firing. Our officers urge us on, hoping we avoid the poor example set by many stragglers we pass en route. As we came down the ridge, we could see the Iron Brigade going into a fight with their familiar black hats. Passing our massed artillery, which was booming at the enemy, our confidence rose.
As we got into line of battle, we struggled to maintain our alignment. Now we could see the Johnnies advancing to our front, recognizing the familiar butternut color if their uniforms, and the familiar blood-curdling yell, as well.
As we moved into line, to the left of the Iron Brigade, our men begain to fall. One, two, now three and four go down, but suddenly we find a dry stream bed. Hurrah! It’s a natural trench. We hold the Rebs back from here until the line to our right gives way.
We have to surrender our stream bed, and as we do, our men begin to fall in our exposed position. Sgt Anderson is down, my fellow Irish friend of many years. We are retreating rapidly. I must help our lads, and bitterly regret I have no time to aid my fellow Fenian. He is gone from my view. Our retreat is at first orderly, but soon becomes a rout. There is no shame in this, however. Flanked on our right and outnumbered, we must run. We will hope for a better result tomorrow. -- Sgt. Joseph Gannon, 27th Connecticut Infantry
[20th Century Impressions: The 27th is near exhaustion as the fight ends. Most of us were up at 2 or 3 a.m. We marched about two miles with full packs and our tentage over a very dusty road in setting up our camp. We experienced that ‘dust eating’ that Civil War soldiers had to put up with on the dirt roads of Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. As I write this, the boys are lying around camp hoping to regain some strength. Tomorrow is supposed to offer fighting almost all day (Editor’s Note: From 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.); I hope all of us can make it. We saw six or seven taken off of the field in ambulances just this afternoon. -- J.G.]
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