The Raleigh News & Observer
July 05, 1903
Address at Gettysburg
By Col. John R. Lane
Colonel John R. Lane
The following is the address of Col. John R. Lane, delivered at the Gettysburg Battle-ground Celebration on last Friday:
Members of the North Carolina Society of Baltimore, Ladies and Gentlemen:
I am thankful to you for an invitation to be present on this occasion. It is pleasant beyond measure to find such a patriotic “band, whose aim is to secure for the soldiers of the Old North State that recognition and praise that their deeds and gallantry deserve. With such societies to keep fresh the memories of their labors, hardships and heroism, the Southern soldiers can rest secure as to their fame. And for the battle-scarred veterans of our own good old State. I want to thank you for this organization and for what you are doing. But I must warn you that you must not expect a highly wrought oration from me. I was once a soldier, never a speaker. Besides our good friends, the enemy, took good care on this field of Gettysburg that I should never become an orator, for a Yankee bullet ruined my throat and took away a part of my tongue and deprived me of my teeth. Yet, with your kind forbearance, I will do my best to tell you something of the personnel, spirit and conduct of the 26th North Carolina Regiment. in whose honor I am pleased to think you have invited me to be with you.
Forty years ago—who can realize it? — forty years ago, on the first of July at 10 o'clock a. m., our regiment lay over there facing McPherson’s hill, in line of battle. How the heart of the old soldier, especially the old officer, returns with affection and pride to his old regiment! What a magnificent body of men it was! I see them now. In the center with the first glow of youth on his cheek, was the gallant Col. Harry King Burgwyn. His eye was aflame with the ardor for battle. Near him was his Lieutenant Colonel, commanding the right, and Major John T. Jones commanding the left. These officers had put their souls into the training of the soldiers and were now waiting the issue of battle with full confidence in their courage and proficiency. On the right of the Colonel was Company E from Chatham, Capt. S. W. Brewer; on the left Company F from Caldwell county, Capt. R. M. Tuttle. Near the center also was Company G from Chatham, Captain Albright, and Company A from [unreadable]. Captain Sam P. Wagg; the other companies with their officers were Company C from Wilkes County, Capt. J. A. ?arrett; Company D from Wake county, Capt. J. T. Adams; Company H from Moon county under command of Lieut. McLeod, Capt. J. D, Mclver being absent on detached service; Company I from Caldwell under Capt. N. G- Bradford; Company K from Anson, Capt. J. C. MeLauglin. Pardon my prided —I do not ask to pardon my loving remembrance of them and the tears that gather in my heart and rise to my eyes, but pardon my pride when I say a finer body of men never gathered for battle. May I mention some of the things that went to make them good soldiers? In the first place the soldiers came of good blood. I do not mean that their parents were aristocrats—far from it; many of them never owned a slave. They were the great middle class that owned small farms in central and western North Carolina; who earned their living with honest sweat and owed not any man. They were good, honest, American stock, their blood untainted with crime, their eyes not dimmed by vice. These boys had grown up on the farm and were of magnificent physique. Their life between the plow handles and wielding the axe had made them strong. They had chased the fox and the deer over hill and valley and had gained great power of endurance that scorned winter’s cold and the parching heat of a July’s sun. Again these men, many of them without much schooling, were intelligent, and their life on the farm and in the woods had taught them to be observant and self-reliant. They were quick to see, quick to understand, quick to act. Again, every man of them had been trained from boyhood to shoot a rifle with precision. General Pettigrew, observing the deadly execution of their muskets on this field, I remarked that the 26th shot as if shooting squirrels. Again these men were patriots; they loved their country, they loved liberty. Their forefathers had fought the British at King's Mountain, and Guilford Court House. — They had grown up to love and cherish their noble deeds. Now every man of them was convinced that the cause for which he was fighting was just; he believed that he owed allegiance first to his home and his State. He was standing to combat an unjust invader. Finally, these men had native courage—not the loud-mouthed courage of the braggart—but the quiet, unfaltering courage that caused them to advance in the face of a murderous fire. The men of this regiment would never endure an officer who cowered in battle. They demanded in the officer the same courage they manifested themselves; they would endure no domineering, they would suffer no driving. At this time the men had come to understand and to trust the officers, the officers the men, and like a mighty, well-arranged military engine it was ready with one spirit to move forward. That noble band of men, God bless them! God bless them! Here the brave fellows lay from early morn until 2 p. m. when orders to advance were given.
And now I will describe to you the best I can the charge that brought wounds and death to so many friends and foes. And in order that I may not seem to boast of my own deeds, nor yet through to much modesty may be thought to keep back essential facts. I shall in that part which relates to myself follow the account as given in our regimental history, and speak of myself in the third person. The 36th was the extreme left regiment of Pettigrew's brigade. As I have said it directly faced McPherson's woods and its front covered about the width of the woods. While we were still lying down impatiently waiting to begin the engagement, the right of the regiment was greatly annoyed by some sharp shooters stationed on the top of a large old farm house to our right. Col. Burgwyn ordered a man sent forward to take them down, when Lieut. J. A. Lowe, of Company G volunteered. Creeping forward along a fence until he got a position from which he could see the men behind the chimney who were doing the shooting, he soon silenced them. During all this time we supposed that Hill was bringing up his corps and placing it in position. Col. Burgwyn became quite impatient to engage the enemy, saying we were losing precious time. But Hill did not come and we had nothing to do but to wait for his arrival on the field. However, we were keeping our men as quiet and comfortable as possible, sending details to the rear for water, and watching the movements of the enemy; the enemy's sharpshooters occasionally reminding us that we had better cling to the bosom of old mother earth.
Many words of encouragement were spoken, and some jokes were indulged in. Religious services were not held as they should have been, owing to the absence of our chaplains. All this time the enemy were moving with great rapidity. Directly in our front across the wheat field was a wooded hill (McPherson's woods). On this hill the enemy placed what we were afterwards informed was their famous “Iron Brigade.” They wore tall, bell-crowned black hats, which made them conspicuous in the line. The sun was now high in the heaven. General Ewell's corps had come up on our left and engaged the enemy. Never was a grander sight beheld. The lines extended more than a mile, directly visible to us. When the battle waxed hot, now one of the armies would be driven, now the other, while neither seemed to gain any advantage. The roar of artillery, the crack of musketry and the shouts of the combatants added grandeur and sublimity to the scene. Suddenly, about 2 p. m there came down the line the long awaited
1. J. R.Lane 2. H. K. Burgwyn 3. Z. B. VanceThree Colonels of the Famous 26th North Carolina Regiment.
command “Attention!” The time for this command could not have been more inopportune. Our line had inspected the enemy and we knew the desperateness of the charge we were to make. But with the greatest quickness the regiment obeyed. All the men were up at once and ready, every officer at his post, Col. Burgwyn in the centre, Lieut. Col. Lane on the right, Major Jones on the left. Our gallant standard-bearer, Mr. J. B. Mansfield, at once stepped to his position—four paces to the front, and the eight color guards to their proper places. At the command “Forward March,” all to a man stepped off, apparently as willingly and as proudly as it they were on review. The enemy at once opened fire, killing and wounding some, but their aim was rather too high to be effective. All kept the step and made as pretty and perfect a line as regiment ever made, every man endeavoring to keep dressed on the colors. We opened fire on the enemy. On, on we went, our men yet in perfect line, until we reached the branch (Willoughby's Run) in the ravine. Here the briers, reeds and underbrush made it difficult to pass. There was some crowding in the center, but the right and left crossed the branch where they struck it. The enemy's artillery, (Cooper's Battery), on our right got an enfilade fire. Our loss was frightful. But our men crossed in good order and immediately were in proper position again, and up the hill we went firing now with better execution.
The engagement was becoming desperate. It seemed as if the bullets were as thick as hailstones in a storm. At his post on the right of the regiment and ignorant as to what was taking place on the left, Lieut. Col. Lane hurries to the centre. He is met by Col. Burgwyn, who informs him “it is all right in the centre and on the left; we have broken the first line of the enemy.” The reply comes: “We are in line on the right, Colonel.”
At this time the colors have been cut down ten times, the color guard all killed or wounded. We have now struck the second line of the enemy where the fighting is the fiercest and the killing the deadliest. Suddenly Captain W. W. McCreery, Assistant Inspector General of the Brigade, rushes forward and speaks to Col. Burgwyn. He bears him a message. “Tell him.” says General Pettigrew, “his regiment has covered itself with glory today.” Delivering these encouraging words, Capt. McCreery, who has always contended that the 26th would fight better than any other regiment in the brigade, seizes the fallen flag, waves it aloft and advancing to the front, is shot through the heart and falls, bathing the flag in his life's blood. Lieut. George Wilcox of Company H, now rushes forward, and pulling the flag from under the dead hero, advances with it. In a few steps he also falls with two wounds—not fatal — in his body.
The line hesitates; the crisis is reached; the colors must advance. The gallant Burgwyn leaps forward, takes them up and again the line moves forward. Returning again from the right, Lieut. Col. Lane sees Col. Burgwyn advancing with the colors. At this juncture, a brave private, Franklin Honeycutt, of Company B, takes the colors and Burgwyn turns to hear from the right. Col. Lane says: “We are in line on the right.” Col. Burgwyn delivers Pettigrew's message to Lieut. Col. Lane. At that instant he falls with a bullet through both lungs, and at the same moment brave Honneycutt falls dead only a few steps in advance. Then indeed was our situation desperate. The flag is down, the line is halting, the enemy are strengthening their line and firing upon our men with murderous effect, and more than all the youthful commander has fallen, and all the responsibility falls upon the shoulders of his successor. Bowing by the side of the fallen youth, Lieut. Col. Lane stops for a moment to ask: “My dear Colonel, are you severely hurt?” A bowed head and a motion to the left side and a pressure of the hand is the only response; but “he looked as pleasant as if victory were on his brow.” Reluctantly leaving his dying commander to go where duty calls him Lieut. Col. Lane hastens to the right, meets Capt. McLauchlin, of Company K, tells him of General Pettigrew's words of praise, but not of his Colonel's fall. He gives the order: “Close your men quickly to the left! L am going to give them the bayonet.” Gallant Capt. McLauchlin in a few moments is so seriously wounded that his services to the Confederacy are lost. Col. Lane hurries to the left and gives similar orders and returns to the center. During this time the battle has been raging fiercely. Our captains have been coolly giving their orders. “Shoot low men,” and the men have been busy, but they have suffered dreadfully. After the battle General Heath saw the line of those who fell at this time, and remarked that the fallen were in line as if on dress parade. When Col. Lane returns he finds the colors still down. Col. Burgwyn and the brave private, Franklin Honeycutt, lying by them. Now or never the regiment must advance. He raises the flag. Lieut. Blair, Company I, rushes out saying: “No man can take these colors and live.” Lane replies: “It is my time to take them now,” and shouting at the top of his voice while advancing with the flag says: “26th, follow me.” The men answer with a yell and press forward. Several lines of the enemy have given away, but a most formidable line yet remains, which seems determined to hold its position. Volleys of musketry are fast thinning out those left; only a skeleton line now remains. To add to the horrors of the scene, the battle smoke has settled down over the combatants making it almost as dark as night. But these men are undaunted. They never tire, their muscles are made of iron. With a cheer they greet every order to advance; they rush on and upward; now they reach the summit of the hill; the last line of the enemy gives way and suddenly retires.
Just as the last shots are firing, a sergeant in the 24th Michigan, now President of the Iron Brigade Veteran Association, Mr. Charles H. McConnell, of Chicago, says that attracted by the commanding figure of Col. Lane carrying the colors, he lingers to take a farewell shot, with his last cartridge, and resting his musket on a tree he awaits his opportunity. When about thirty steps distant, as Col. Lane turns to cheer his regiment, a ball fired by his brave and resolute adversary, strikes him in the back of the neck, just below the brain, crashes through his Jaw and mouth and for the fourteenth and last time the colors are down. They are taken from the hand of the fallen Lane by S. W. Brewer, the gallant Captain of Company E, who leads the remnants of the regiment, now in command of the gallant Major J. T. Jones, pursues the enemy, firing with effect to the seminary, where the few survivors are relieved by Pender's division. The red field was won, but at what a cost to victor as well as to vanquished.
Terrible, terrible, was our loss. We entered battle with 800 officers and men. Company F on the left of the flag, lost every one of its 91 men, 31 being killed and 60 wounded; Company E, to the right of the flag, suffered nearly as badly. It carried 82 men into the fight, had 18 killed and 52 wounded, and brought out only two untouched. Our total loss on that day was 584 —greater in number and greater in per cent than that suffered by any other regiment on either side during the war.
We came out with only 216 men. The officers of the regiment were killed or wounded, but its spirit and discipline were not broken. On the third day the remnant with colors flying stepped out, with hearts of oak, to take part in that memorable third day's charge. I call the world to witness that they never faltered. I call the world to witness that these brave fellows marched with heroic step up those heights of death. I call the world to witness that the privates, James M. Brooks and Dan Thomas, of Company E. planted the colors of the regiment on the enemy's works and there they were defended until captured. Out of our 216 men, 130 were lost on that third day. Our total loss in battle, then, was 588 killed and wounded, and 126 missing out of a total of 800 engaged. Of the missing there were but few who were not killed or wounded. The total was near 90 per cent. Search the records of the world and you will never find heroism greater or loss more terrible. Let no man think that these losses crushed the spirit of the regiment. It was made of sterner stuff. Colonel Lane was soon sufficiently recovered from his severe wound to take charge of the regiment. It suffered the brunt of battle at Bristow's Station, was pronounced the best drilled regiment at the Battle of the Wilderness, and brought into that fight 760 men, and fought there in splendid form, many of those wounded at Gettysburg having returned, and the numbers being increased by recruits. It was in every important engagement in which Kirkland's or McRae's Brigade was engaged from the Wilderness to Appomattox. Its Colonel was wounded five times and twice saved from death by the quick marksmanship of his men. It suffered terrible privations in the trenches around Richmond; it was in the line broken at Five Forks, and yet it was at Appomattox where it surrendered 120 more muskets than any other of the North Carolina regiments except one, the 15th, which surrendered only two more. Such was the regiment that crushed the line of the best troops in the Federal army, on the first of July, 1863.
I cannot close without in my humble way paying tribute to my fellows who lost their lives in those bloody conflicts and whose bones lie buried on the field of battle. O, my noble comrades! You poured your life blood for a cause you loved. But you are not reckoned among the dead. In the affectionate remembrance of your comrades you still live! They were baptized in the same baptism as you. The kinship thus engendered is stronger than death. They love to recount the history of your heroism and their eyes grow dim as they do it. Then of the generation that has arisen since the dread conflict, who now move in your old haunts, your deeds are the pride and inspiration. All our State rings from end to end with eulogies of you. The youth of our schools and colleges recount your praises year by year; your fame is safe with them. And more than all, dearest of all to Southern souls, your memory is cherished by the tenderest hearts and fairest hands of our Southland—the Daughters of the Confederacy. At all our State capitals they are raising lofty monuments in your honor, they are marking every grave with the white slab of remembrance that your names may never die. Year by year they deck your last resting place with flowers wreathed by their own fair hands. Year by year they water your graves with tears that rise from hearts full of grateful and loving remembrance of you who suffered death as champions of Southern homes. Then, my comrades, count it not idle that your remains lie on foreign soil. It is foreign soil no more. We lost our cause, but we have won back our place in the American Union. Pennsylvania and North Carolina are sisters now, and like a sister. Pennsylvania is caring for you. Her noblest sons and daughters are pleading for a statue of Lee to overlook the scenes which last you saw, and are coming to regard you as brothers. They address your old Colonel as “Comrade.” Year by year the relentless temper of war is giving way to the gentle tones of brotherhood and peace. Your valor is coming to be regarded as the common heritage of the American nation. It no longer belongs to your State alone; it no longer belongs to the South; it is the high water mark of what Americans have done and can do. The day is soon coming and is already here, when your heroism will be as much admired in Maine as in Texas; in California as in Carolina. Your deeds challenge the wonder of mankind. You have brought everlasting renown on your native State and the dear old 26th North Carolina. I give you the highest tribute—a comrade's tears.
The Raleigh News & Observer, July 05, 1903, Editorial Section, Page 2.