essful onslaught
of the infantry. During its continuance we lay among the guns, and as
soon as their clamor hushed sprang to our feet and began rushing toward
the enemy. We had to descend the slope of Seminary Ridge, cross a
valley, and ascend the steep slope of Cemetery Ridge, a distance of
nearly a mile. If while we were crossing the valley the artillery behind
us had been firing at the enemy over our heads, our task would have been
less dangerous and more hopeful, but unwisely and unfortunately the
caissons had become almost exhausted. As we were ascending the eminence,
where cannon thundered in our faces and infantry four lines deep stood
ready to deliver their volleys, I noticed that the line of the
Confederates resembled the arc of a circle; in other words, the right
and the left were more advanced than the center, and were, therefore,
the first to become engaged. Brockenbrough's brigade formed the extreme
left of the attacking column.

The fame of Pickett's charge on the right has resounded through the
world. The Virginians on the left achieved less glory, but they did
their best. We came so close to the serried ranks of the Yankees that I
emptied my revolver upon them, and we were still advancing when they
threw forward a column to attack our unprotected left flank. I feel no
shame in recording that out of this corner the men without waiting for
orders turned and fled, for the bravest soldiers cannot endure to be
shot at simultaneously from the front and side. They knew that to
remain, or to advance, meant wholesale death or captivity. The Yankees
had a fair opportunity to kill us all, and why they did not do it I
cannot tell. Our loss was less than it was in the first day's battle. As
in our orderly and sullen retreat we were ascending the ridge from which
we had set out, I heard the men saying mournfully, "If Old Jack had been
here, it wouldn't have been like this"; and though I said nothing I
entertained the same opinion.

Suppose he had been there to turn the enemy's left flank as he did at
Gaines' Mill, and again at Chancellorsville!

As I look back upon that final assault at Gettysburg, it seems strange
to me that General Lee should have sent eighteen thousand men to
dislodge a hundred thousand from a position much stronger than that
which Wellington occupied at Waterloo. Perhaps he miscalculated the
effect of the cannonade; perhaps he reposed too much confidence in his
soldiers. When all was over he fo