In his 1882 Civil War memoir Detailed Minutiae of Soldier Life, Carlton McCarthy described the
flood of questions that popped into soldiers’ minds when they were ordered to
assemble to begin a march. “Orders to move?” McCarthy wrote. “Where? When? What
for? – are the eager questions of the men as they begin their preparations to
march. Generally, nobody can answer, and the journey is commenced in utter
ignorance of where it is to end.”
By the summer of 1863, William had recovered from a wound
he’d received at the Battle of Goldsboro Bridge six months earlier and returned
to duty with the 52nd. The unit had been moving since early April,
when they boarded a train in Kinston, North Carolina that took them to Taylorsville,
Virginia. The 52nd moved again in early June, this time to take up
positions on the banks of the Rappahannock River a few miles downstream from
Fredericksburg.
On June 10, the 52nd was ordered to a nearby
train station where they were to board a train to Hanover Junction, north of
Richmond, to relieve a unit under the command of General John Corse.
But that turned out to be one of those “hurry up and wait” orders
that have annoyed soldiers since the beginning of time. After sitting for hours
waiting for the troop train, the 52nd’s orders to Hanover Junction
were rescinded. The unit under General Corse would remain in place. The 52nd’s
commanders received new orders to report to General James Johnston Pettigrew,
and by nightfall they were back in their camp on the Rappahannock.
The train that never arrived would change the lives of the
men in the 52nd.
While the 52nd had been traveling from North
Carolina and encamping on the Rappahannock, General Robert E. Lee had been
dodging attempts by the Confederate government to detach some troops from his
Army of Northern Virginia to be sent west, where Union General Ulysses Grant
was threatening the vital Confederate stronghold at Vicksburg, Mississippi.
Lee also had been asking for more men, but he wasn’t telling
Confederate leaders in Richmond why he wanted those extra troops. He was quietly
formulating a plan, and that plan did not involve keeping his army sitting in
encampments in and around Fredericksburg.
“As far as I can judge there is nothing to be gained by this
army remaining quietly on the defensive,” he noted in early June 1863.
Lee knew that the South simply did not have the resources to
fight a long war against the North. Their enemy had a huge advantage in
supplies and manpower, and could win simply by forcing the Confederacy to use
up its scant resources.
In Lee’s mind, the best way to relieve pressure on
Confederate armies to the west would be to put pressure on Union forces in the
east. And the best way to do that was to take the war to the enemy. So in June
1863, Lee started moving his army northward.
It was a high risk, high reward plan. If he could march
boldly onto his enemy’s turf, draw a large Union army into a major battle and decisively
defeat that army as he’d done at Chancellorsville, Virginia only a few weeks
earlier, it might throw such a fright into Northern civilians that they’d
demand peace talks aimed at ending the war.
If another Confederate general had proposed to march into
Pennsylvania and dare his enemy to come after him, he might have been called a
reckless fool. But Lee’s troops were on a winning streak, so to speak, and he
was certain that his men could make his gamble pay off.
“There never were such men in an army before,” he said. “They
will go anywhere and do anything if properly led.”
And after watching Virginia be chewed up by two years of
war, many of Lee’s men were eager to give their enemy a taste of military
carnage. “Let their bones be laid waste – their lands destroyed, their towns
laid in ashes, and then they will be disposed to make peace,” said William
Blount, a lieutenant in the 47th North Carolina Infantry.
So on June 14, 1863, as William and thousands of other
Confederate soldiers began what Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. later described as
“one of those dreadful summer marches,” there undoubtedly was much speculation
about where they were going. And while William knew that his brother Thomas was
in the 5th North Carolina Infantry, it’s doubtful that he would’ve
known that his brother’s unit was part of the same massive troop movement.
None of the men moving northward on those dusty unpaved
roads in the heat of that long-ago summer knew their journey would end spectacularly at a
quiet little crossroads town in Pennsylvania called Gettysburg.
NOTE: Sources for this
essay included Lee Moves North, by
Michael A. Palmer; Fifty-Second Regiment,
a regimental history by John H. Robinson, Adjutant; Detailed Minutiae of
Soldier Life, by Carlton McCarthy; and
exhibits at the Gettysburg National Military Park museum. The photo of the gatehouse entrance to a cemetery in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania was made by Frank Gutekunst a few weeks after the battle in July 1863. The image is from the website The Gettysburg Compiler.
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