Pickett's Last Man

Capt. Frank W. Nelson, Now 93, Vividly Recalls the Charge That Made

Immortal the Names of Those Gallant Men in Gray Who Dared

The Impossible 73 Years Ago Next Friday

By Herbert T. Ezekiel

Fifteen thousand men took part in Pickett's Charge at Gettysburg. Today, so far as is known, only one of those men is living. He is Captain Frank W. Nelson of A Company, Fifty-sixth Virginia Infantry, Colonel W. D. Stewart, Garnett's Brigade, Pickett's Division, Longstreet's Corps.

Captain Nelson is 93 years old (he was born Christmas Day, 1843), but he is erect, and he can still tell in thrilling detail the story of that glorious display of bravery on July 3, 1863, that ended in wanton bloodshed. "My division is almost extinguished," Pickett wrote his wife a few days after the battle. "I was ordered to take a height, which I did, under the most withering fire I have ever known, and I have seen many battles."

Although he spent much time defending his chief, General Longstreet, Captain Nelson's account of the famous charge is graphic and awe-inspiring: The deadly stillness of the hours of waiting before a battle, "when the men lay in the tall grass in the rear of the artillery line, the July sun pouring its scorching rays almost vertically down upon them . . . the awful silence of the vast battlefield was broken by a cannon shot that opened the greatest artillery duel of the world." All the horror of this losing battle with death can be felt as one listens to this aged man tell his story.

"Had we taken Cemetery Hill (the object of the attack), we could never have held it. Those who reached stone wall saw the Federal reserves in countless thousands in the rear of the defending line. Our failure to a great extent can be laid to General Lee's one fault--he left too much to his subordinate officers. Our brigade reached Gettyburg at twilight of the 2d, and orders were issued for us to cook three days' rations. It did not take this to tell us that a great battle impended. We had breakfast before daylight on the 3d and by dawn were in line, ready for whatever came.

"We were in Peach Orchard by 5 o'clock, and lay there for many hours. The Federal cannon on Culp's Hill and Little Round Top, which we could have taken the previous evening without firing a shot, enfiladed [sic] our column, doing much damage. Of course we had no way of replying to these shots. The three Virginia brigades of Kemper, Garnett and Armistead were touching each other. The first named contained about as many as the other two combined. The absence of General Stuart and his cavalry had much to do with our failure.

Three o'clock in Afternoon When Cannonfire Ceased

"It was probably 3 o'clock or later in the afternoon when the cannon fire of the enemy ceased. General Pickett went to Longstreet and asked if he should make the charge according to the orders issued. He (Longstreet) did not reply by word of mouth. He simply nodded. We were ordered to fix bayonets. The Colonel spoke to us. 'See that wall there; it is full of Yankees: I want you to help take it.' He told the file-closers to see that all the men kept up, and if any lagged shoot them, or he would have the file-closers themselves shot. Just before we reached the Emmitsburg Road a shell killed three and wounded three, a loss of six out of my company of only 25. Our pace was regular time.

(A South Carolina officer who witnessed the movement told the writer of this some years ago that the discipline of the men was perfect. They marched as if on dress parade. So cool were the officers that he remembered hearing the command, "Pass obstacle" given, when a stump was reached.)

I was with General Lee in every battle of the Army of Northern Virginia after he took command, and this charge was worse than all of them combined. General Armistead had his slouch hat on the point of his sword, but as the headpiece had punctured it the hat had slipped down and covered his hand. He placed his other hand on a cannon and shook his head, as if to say it could not be done. About this time he fell.

"If the infantry behind the stone wall had fired properly not a single Confederate would have reached it. To take aim a man had to lift his head above that structure which meant almost sure death. That the firing was bad was proved by the fact that General Garnett, a very tall man, mounted on a horse 16 hands (5 feet 4 inches) was shot in the forehead. Captain Linthincum, chaplain of the Eighth Virginia, Hunton's regiment, came to me and said, 'General Garnett is dead, but do not tell the men.' About this time the Yankees began to come out of the gap in the wall, and we walked away deliberately, escaping capture. They were so elated at the number of prisoners they had taken they did not bother about those on foot. It was near dark when we got back to Seminary Ridge. I brought back only five men of the 25 I had taken in, and found myself in command of the regiment.

"Did any of the men show any signs of nervousness under the strain of the charge? I should say not. We had lain so long under fire with no change of replying, one of the most trying ordeals to which a soldier can be subjected, that we hardly appreciated the danger."

Survivor's of Pickett's Charge Revisit Scene of Battle

The survivors of Pickett's Division have visited the scene of their adventure three times. First in 1887, as the guest of Philadelphia Brigade, which received and repelled their charge. The veterans of the North and South formed in two lines opposite each other in the public square of Gettysburg and the command was given, "Advance and shake hands." This was the first reunion held on a battlefield of the war, for the first day's fighting had been in the town itself. That night the Chief Burgess (Mayor) welcomed the visitors in the town hall. "Boys," he said, "we are glad to see you--this time." Colonel William R. Aylett, who next day swapped his shirt with a one-time enemy, made the reply. That afternoon General "Baldy" Smith, chairman of the battlefield commission, spoke at the anniversary celebration of the charge. "Boys, we have a regulation that no Confederate monument can be placed inside of what had been the Federal lines. But after what I have seen today you folks can if you wish come down to Philadelphia and put one in Independence Hall." But as a matter of fact, the Pickett survivors had every reason to feel satisfied. The Sixty-ninth and Seventy-first Pennsylvania Regiments, which held the "Bloody Angle" against the Confederates, have erected a monument giving their former foes full credit for all they did with an accurate account of the encounter.

In 1906 the Pickett survivors again visited the battlefield, but death had cruelly thinned their ranks. Upon this occasion the Northerners returned to the living members of Armistead's Brigade the sword of their general. The speaker gave a vivid account of the death of Armistead. "The General did not die the same day as you people have always thought, but the next. One of our men came into the barn where we were and said there is a rebel officer outdoors asking assistance as the son of a widow. He is badly wounded. When brought in he ran his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of parched corn. "Boys, men who can subsist on this can never be beaten."

The third reunion was on July 3, 1913, the fiftieth anniversary of the battle. The writer was not at this reunion, but was told that once again Cemetery Hill and the charge of the Virginians were the main subject of conversation.

Two years from now the seventy-fifth anniversary of the fight will be observed by a joint celebration, to which all old soldiers of both sides have been invited. This will take the place of the annual reunion of Southern and Northern veterans, and is the last which will ever be held. It is hoped that the sole survivor of today may be there. His old comrades will be in the spirit.

Near the "Bloody Angle" at Gettysburg is an immense bronze open book, giving the name of every commander on either side which participated. Officially it is denominated "the high-water mark of the Rebellion." Just opposite is a marker which states, "Brigidier General Lewis A. Armistead fell here July 3, 1863." There is no sting in the word "rebellion" when applied by a government broad-minded enough to erect a monument to a man who fought against it.

And Virginians are proud of the fact that 17 of the 47 regiments which fought their way to immortality at Gettysburg were from Virginia.

"The sacrifice of life on the blood-soaked field on the fatal third was too awful for the heralding of victory, even for our victorious foe," General Pickett said in a letter to his wife three days later, "who, I think, believe as we do that it decided the fate of our cause. No words can picture the anguish of that roll-call--the breathless waits between the responses. The "Here" of those who, by God's mercy, had miraculously escaped the awful rain of shot and shell was a sob--a gasp--a knell--for the unanswered name of his comrade called before his. There was no tone of thankfulness for having been spared to answer their names, but rather a toll and an unvoiced wish that they, too, had been among the missing.

"Even now I hear them cheering as I gave the order, 'Forward!' I can feel their faith and trust in me and their love for our cause. I can feel the thrill of their joyous voices as they called out all along the line, 'We'll follow you, Marse George; we'll follow you' . . . The moans of my wounded boys, the sight of the dead, upturned faces, flood my soul with grief . . . "