Barlow’s Knoll may be the most easily recognized location on the battlefield for those who follow the 17th CVI, but the regiment spent far more time on East Cemetery Hill. It was here that the regiment, broken up badly during the retreat from the fields north of town, regrouped under the command of Major Allen Brady. In an odd twist of fate, Major Brady found himself once more in command of the regiment following the death of Lt. Colonel Fowler.

Today’s visitor needs to use some imagination to picture what this area looked like in July 1863. The area where the 17th was first posted is now parking lot. There are still buildings nearby that were there 150 years ago and there are still bullet marks in them, perhaps some caused by the soldiers of the 17th as they traded shots with Confederate sharpshooters hidden within.

The rest of East Cemetery Hill is still there, though, and takes less imagination to picture. Yes, the old Gettysburg High School detracts from it some, and the reconstructed avenue at the base of the hill has changed the line that the 17th moved to later in the day. But…and this only works if the visitor to the 17th CVI monument accepts the fact that it does not mark where the regiment did some real fighting that day…it is still very possible to stand at the fence line and see what the surviving soldiers saw late in the day on July 2nd.

I probably have hundreds of photos that I’ve taken in this area. I’ve walked the Confederate attack route in the heat of summer and walked it in 3 feet of snow (I really don’t understand that one at all). As best as I can tell from old photos, this area looks very much the same as it did then. We all owe a big thank you to the fact that this was the first section of battlefield preserved.

It was here that Captain Henry Burr of Company E got “hunk”, as his comrades stated, for capturing a Confederate soldier by pulling him over the low stone wall to his front. A little payback, I guess, for his own capture at Chancellorsville. It was here that the regiment once again stood firm against the onslaught while other regiments fell back – something not disputed by those who were there, whether from the 17th or not.

My favorite time to head over to East Cemetery Hill is just after sunset as it is getting dark. On a hot summer day, despite the traffic noise and the sounds coming from the various businesses nearby, it is easy to get a feeling of what it may have been like sitting on the hill 150 years ago. Of course, the flashes of light today are only fireflies (and there are many of them here in the summer) and not the flash of muskets. There is something to be said for standing on the same ground that one’s ancestors stood and fought so many years ago or where, as old men, they came to reminisce about what they did and what they saw.

Someone sent me a photo that they had which was taken on the day the monument was dedicated here in 1889. A few years ago we took a photo (of my son) sitting in front of it just as the veterans of 1863 did. We superimposed the new over the old – in a way, a visual representation of what I feel like whenever I’m on that hill.

 

 

 

I’ve always thought the best description of the 17th CVI immediately prior to fighting at Gettysburg was written by Company C’s J. Montgomery Bailey (AKA “High Private Manton”). Published by the Danbury Times as part of Bailey’s “Under Guard, OR, Sunny South in Slices” articles following his capture and subsequent release at Gettysburg. The entire series can be found on the site. Dick is Richard Taylor, a friend of Bailey’s, killed on the first day.

Here in Bailey’s words, the evening before Gettysburg:

I well remember the night of the 30th of June. The sky was clear of clouds and filled with bright glittering stars. The moon threw a calm, mellow light over our camp, and the surrounding hills. We were lying at Emmittsburg in Maryland, near the Pennsylvania border. We felt that our marching was about done for the present, and that we were on the eve of a heavy struggle. The solemnity which always foreruns a battle, pervaded our minds, intensifying our thoughts of home, and weaving shadows of anxiety across our future. The conflict was imminent. All through the day flying rumors came on all sides. Lee had destroyed Harrisburg, routed the militia, and was rapidly advancing on us by way of Gettysburg. I stood leaning against a camp stake, gazing dreamily across the hill, with mind reverting to Chancellorsville and filled with anticipations of a second edition so soon to be issued. In imagination I was amid the carnage, surrounded by gleaming bayonets and staggering wounded, while the air resounded with the unearthly hiss and whiz of shot and shell, and piercing cries of the mangled combatants. While thus wrapt in bloody glory, I felt a hand laid on my shoulder, and a familiar whisper greeted me with the question,

“What are you thinking of — home?”

I roused myself from the sad reverie and turning around, voluntarily grasped the inquirer’s hand.

“No, Dick, I am not thinking of home, exactly, but of what is coming.”

“Yes, we have got to fight, Mont,” was his quiet rejoinder, “and somebody has got to die. I hope it isn’t you nor me, though I don’t suppose we are any better than others.”

“It will be a hard battle,” I said. “The boys have made up their minds that if whipped here, there will be but little peace for our army the remainder of the summer.”

“We ought to fight now if ever,” he energetically exclaimed. “This Corps will run, I know — but Mont, the 17th must stand up to it and do something for Chancellorsville. I ain’t much, myself, and may run equal to the best Dutchman in the crowd, but I hope to God I will do my duty even if I do get shot.”