Recently I returned from a tour of the Gettysburg battlefield. Being somewhat of a student of the Civil War, I was impressed by the grandeur of the event, and appalled by the loss of life.
One can almost feel the haunting presence of the spirits of the dead. Total Union casualties in the three-day battle were 22,813 including 3,149 dead. The Confederate Army lost 4,536 dead, with overall casualties of 22,625. Combined losses were more than 45,000 dead, wounded, or captured. Many of the seriously wounded later died.
There can be no questioning the valor displayed on both sides, particularly that of the 13,000 Confederate troops who participated in Pickett’s Charge on July 3, 1863, the last day of the battle. Deployed in a line almost a mile long, these troops were ordered to march about three-quarters of a mile across rolling fields to attack the center of the Union line on Cemetery Ridge.
Under murderous cannon fire with battle flags flying, they moved slowly toward their foe. Gaps appeared as the artillery fire took a dreadful toll on the formation before the columns were within musket range. As they closed they were met with fusillades of musket fire by Union troops huddled behind a low stone wall.
On they came, their numbers depleted by the intense fire. Bodies lay all over the field. A small group of the most intrepid Southerners managed to breech the wall at the center of the line in heavy hand to hand fighting, but were quickly thrown back by Union reserves.
The charge had been broken and remnants of the proud units, which had appeared so formidable less than an hour before, streamed back to the Confederate line. The dead and wounded littered the field. Gen. Robert E. Lee rode among his retreating troops telling them the defeat was his fault. He had miscalculated; the union position had been too strong.
Lee’s principal field commander, Gen. James Longstreet, had advised against the attack, believing the union’s defensive position was too formidable. The previous day, bloody attacks on both flanks of the federal line had also failed.
The battle was the turning point in the war, the high water mark of the Confederacy. Although the slaughter continued for another two years, it became increasingly apparent the South did not have the resources in either men or material to win.
At one level, the carnage was the price the nation paid to purge the stain of slavery; on another, it was a battle to preserve the Union. But what did the war represent to those who died fighting it?
For many, it started as a grand adventure, an opportunity to leave the towns and villages where they were born and likely would die. It gave them the chance to participate in a momentous event that for most would be the high point of their lives. They could prove themselves in a crucible, the dimensions of which few understood.
Many were Irish immigrants. I was struck by the number of shamrocks carved on unit monuments on Cemetery Ridge. Irish immigrants fought on both sides, depending on whether they landed in northern ports such as Boston or New York or in the South at Charleston or New Orleans.
Speeches about preserving the Union, the excitement of forming units and training and moving into the battle zone were soon replaced by the horror of war. Thousands died as massed units flung themselves at one another, firing volleys at point-blank range. It was a war of attrition; mass murder on a gigantic scale.
As in most wars, the combatants fought valiantly for their own survival and for that of their comrades. War is madness; at its essence it is young people on one side killing young people on the other for reasons that have nothing to do with personal animosity.
The combatants, more likely than not, had nothing to do with the policies that caused the hostilities. In a duel, at least, the participants are fighting over a perceived grievance committed by one or the other.
Like World War II, the Civil War is generally considered a good (necessary) war. What would have happened if it had not occurred? Slavery, already condemned in much of the world, would have died of its own grotesque weight before the turn of the century. Had slavery died of natural causes, the South would not have seceded from the Union.
Secession was the proximate cause of the war, but slavery was its underlying cause. We will never know what President Lincoln might have done had South Carolina not forced his hand by announcing it was seceding from the Union and firing on Fort Sumter.
As it was, to condone the scourge of slavery any longer was too great a price to pay for peace. The Civil War was the sacrifice demanded for tolerating it for so long.
James W. Dolan is a retired Dorchester District Court judge who now practices law at DolanConnly. He can be reached at jdolan@dolanconnly.com.
