Trust in God & fear nothing: confederate Gen. Lewis Armistead and Union Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock--like many of their contemporaries--were good friends who found themselves on opposite sides in the Civil War.

The humid air hung thick and heavy on July 3, 1863, blanketing the men of Brigadier General Lewis A. Armistead's brigade as they nervously waited for the command to advance upon the Union center situated along Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge. His men had stood fast during a two-hour Confederate artillery barrage intended to weaken enemy resistance, and an intermittent response from Union artillery batteries, while enduring the fearful realization that they were about to assault a superior defensive position across nearly a mile of open field.

For Armistead the impending assault took on a personal dimension that was all too common in this Civil War. The men of the Federal Second Corps occupying Cemetery Ridge were commanded by his longtime friend Winfield Scott Hancock. Armistead and Hancock had served together in the war with Mexico and on the Western frontier with the 6th U.S. Infantry.

The prospect of assaulting Hancock's lines weighed heavily on Armistead's mind, since the two men had forged a close relationship during the prewar years.

Armistead had seen nothing of Hancock since electing to "go South" in the summer of 1861. Now he and Hancock found themselves scarcely a mile apart, separated by fate and an open field. Ever the consummate military man, the grizzled old soldier accepted his duty and, despite his personal feelings toward his old friend, urged his Virginians to fight, saying, "Men, remember your wives, your mothers, your sisters and your sweethearts." It steeled the hearts of his men, who had grown to respect Armistead's steady approach, but it could not erase the unsettling fact that they were about to assault a well-defended position over open ground.

The casualties would no doubt be high, but there was no way out of it. Two days of brutal combat had left both armies bruised and battered but with neither side yielding the field. Convinced of Southern invincibility after a string of victories, Confederate Commanding General Robert E. Lee was determined to end it on that hot, sultry day with a massive frontal assault on the Union center.

Born to Fight

Martial blood ran deep in Armistead's veins. His uncle, Colonel George Armstrong, commanded the garrison at Ft. McHenry during the British bombardment that inspired Francis Scott Key's "Star-Spangled Banner." Moreover, his father, Walker Keith Armistead, attained the rank of Brigadier General--a rarity in the Old Army.

It was a foregone conclusion that Lewis would carry on the family tradition, but poor academic performance at West Point and a mess hall incident in which he smashed a dinner plate over the head of future Confederate general Jubal Early nearly ended his military career. In 1836, he was allowed to "resign" from the academy, but through his family connections with the Army, he was given a commission from civilian ranks in 1839 at approximately the same time his former classmates were graduating from West Point. He served in Florida under his father in action against the Seminoles, but the subtropical climate played havoc with his health, and he left the state in July 1840.

War with Mexico, however, provided Armistead with a second chance at military glory, and like his familial predecessors, he too would distinguish himself under fire. Serving with the 6th Infantry, he won a brevet promotion to captain for his gallant conduct at Contreras and Churubusco in August 1847, serving along with such Civil War luminaries as James Longstreet, John Sedgwick--and his future friend, Winfield Scott Hancock. He was brevetted major for action at Molino del Rey and later took part in the storming of Chapultepec, where by some accounts he was wounded.

It was in Mexico City that Armistead and Hancock became close. Along with fellow Virginian Henry Heth, Armistead and Hancock, a Pennsylvanian, formed a friendly triumvirate of sightseers and messmates. Hancock particularly enjoyed Armistead's easygoing manner and took pleasure in teasing him about an allegedly prodigious appetite. It was a relationship forged by the rigors of 19th-century military life that would remain intact until the nation was torn apart by sectional differences nearly 20 years later.

A Tear-stained Farewell

A true son of the South, Armistead resigned his commission in the U.S. Army in the aftermath of the bombardment of Fort Sumter in 1861 and sought a military commission with the state forces of Virginia. While the Army processed his resignation papers, he took leave on June 15, 1861 and attended a farewell gathering of both Southern and Northern officers, the former determined to offer their services to the Confederate cause, the latter equally determined to stand by the Union.

Armistead's close friend Hancock hosted the evening at his Camp Fitzgerald quarters located near Los Angeles, California. The sad gathering drew together future Confederate officers Albert Sidney Johnston and Richard Garnett. Hancock's wife, Almira, left an account of the event in which she wrote: "Hearts were filled with sadness over the surrendering of life-long ties." As the evening drew to a close, Johnston's wife sang Kathleen Mavourneen, a deeply sentimental song about the pain of separation that left the small group of warriors with tear-filled eyes.

Armistead was most affected by the prospect of severing ties with his Northern counterparts, and according to Almira Hancock, he gave her a number of souvenirs with the proviso that she send them to his family should he perish in the impending conflict. On the flyleaf of a small Anglican prayer book he had written, "Trust in God and fear nothing?' Wiping away tears, he told Hancock, "Good-by; you can never know what this has cost me." With his resignation he not only severed ties with the United States, but also with his dear friend Hancock. He could not have known it at the time, but a reunion of sorts would occur two years later on a battlefield at the crossroads of an obscure Pennsylvania town.

Give Them Cold Steel Boys!

At approximately three o'clock the Confederate cannons ended their bombardment of the Union center and 11 brigades of the Army of Northern Virginia (over 13,000 Confederates) emerged from the woods along Seminary Ridge. Spearheaded by Major General George E. Pickett's division, including Armistead's brigade, they advanced across the gently rolling mile-wide open ground and into the annals of military history. The well-dressed ranks advanced at quick time--110 steps a minute--sweltering under packs, blanket rolls, and wool uniforms. With parade ground precision they moved forward, prompting feelings of admiration and awe from the Union rank and file, including General John Gibbon's aide-de-camp Lieutenant Frank Haskell, who later described the event:

More than half a mile their front extends, more than a thousand yards the dull gray masses deploy, man touching man, rank pressing rank, and line supporting line. The red flags wave, their horsemen gallop up and down; the arms of eighteen thousand men, barrel and bayonet, gleam in the sun, a sloping forest of flashing steel. Right on they move as with one soul, in perfect order, without impediment of ditch, or wall or stream, over ridge and slope, through orchard and meadow, and cornfield, magnificent, grim, irresistible.

Hancock, too, commented favorably on the precision of the Confederate advance in his official report after the battle: "Their lines were formed with a precision and steadiness that extorted the admiration of the witnesses of that memorable scene." Armistead was a conspicuous part of that scene. Moving out well in advance of his brigade, he placed his black felt hat upon his sword to serve as a guide to his men among the din and fury of the battle.

As the butternut and gray clad Confederates approached Cemetery Ridge, Union artillery batteries unleashed a perfect storm of double-loaded canister and shell, cutting gaping swaths in the Confederate ranks. Still, they pressed on despite the increasing intensity of Federal fire from the ridge, and with Armistead 50 yards in advance of his brigade, they crossed the Emmitsburg Road and moved up the gentle slope toward the center of the Union line. Federal infantry poured volley after volley into the advancing Southerners while artillery rained canister upon their thinning ranks.

Within 250 yards of Cemetery Ridge, Hancock's 2nd Corps infantrymen opened up a steady volley of rifle and musket fire. Armistead's depleted ranks surged ahead with Armistead himself, his hat still upon his sword tip, urging them on into the maelstrom. "Give them cold steel boys!" Armistead cried as he and perhaps 150 fellow Virginians leapt over the stone wall on Cemetery Ridge, piercing the Union line, and even momentarily driving federal artillerists from their pieces, at a spot known to history as the Angle.

Meanwhile Hancock watched as the gray wave moved slowly across the crest of the ridge pressing the Union center and forcing some units to break and flee to the rear. Remnants of the 71st Pennsylvania and Cushing's Battery battled fiercely in hand-to-hand combat with the advancing Confederates. If the Confederates were able to break out of the Angle and solidify their gains, it might be just enough to split the Union Army in two. Realizing that the outcome of the battle hung in the balance, Hancock rode his mount up to the men of the 9th Massachusetts and the 42nd New York held in reserve and, while pointing to the Angle, shouted: "Forward, men! Forward! Now's your chance!" Instantly, the New Englanders and New Yorkers moved forward into the Angle, and a sharp fight ensued as the decimated Confederates sought to break out of the Angle.

Hancock watched intently upon his mount as his troops moved to plug the center of the line. Just then a Confederate bullet struck his saddle, driving a piece of a saddle nail into his leg. He calmly removed the nail after which he remarked dryly, "They must be hard up for ammunition when they throw such shot as that." Brigadier General George Stannard applied a tourniquet above the general's wound, but Hancock refused to leave the field until the battle was completely over.

Armistead too had fallen. With his hand resting defiantly upon an enemy cannon, he was struck by two bullets. He struggled to hold on to the Federal artillery piece but fell mortally wounded about 30 yards inside the Union line, among Cushing's battery. The Federal counterattack had stopped the Confederates cold. There were too few Confederates to continue the momentum, and within 40 minutes, the battle was over for the shattered remnants of Pickett's and the two other divisions. The assault had been broken in large part due to Hancock's brilliant display of leadership in the face of Lee's desperate attempt to breach the center of the Union line.

The mortally wounded Armistead was subsequently taken prisoner and moved to the rear of the Union line. Much has been written about Armistead's last words, most of it myth, but by most reliable accounts, he said little. Thomas H. Presnell of the 1st Minnesota had a brief encounter with Armistead as he was being moved off the front line. In a letter to a friend in 1890, Presnell wrote:

   After the battle was over, but while
   everything was confusion and excitement,
   I was returning from one of the
   wheat stacks to which I had assisted
   one of my comrades, toward the point
   occupied by Cushing's battery. I immediately
   saw that the occupant of
   the blanket was a Confederate officer,
   and was informed that he was
   Gen Armistead. He seemed to be
   badly wounded in the head but was
   conscious and was talking, though
   rather incoherently. Among other
   things he asked was how Gen. Hancock
   was, and on being told that he
   was wounded, said: "I am sorry; he
   is a grand man." I remember he said
   this: "We made a good fight, but lost;
   thank God Virginia did its duty."

Armistead asked to see Hancock, but Hancock's wound prevented him from meeting with his old friend. Instead Hancock sent Capt. Henry H. Bingham of his staff. Bingham attended to Armistead's requests, assured him that his personal effects would be sent to his family, and then had Armistead removed to the Union Army 11th Corps Field Hospital set up at the George Spangler farm. There, Armistead, whom Bingham described as "completely exhausted and broken spirited," was tended to by a number of Union medical officers. Although his wounds were not necessarily fatal, he ultimately succumbed to cumulative effects of blood loss, heat stress, and exhaustion on July 5, 1863.

The "reunion" of Hancock and Armistead was not the sort that they had hoped for on the night that they had severed ties in 1861. Fate had made the two friends foes on the field, yet could not break their ties of friendship.

Hancock never totally recovered from his wound but went on to achieve great military and political fame. The old soldier died at Governor's Island, New York, on February 9, 1886, still in command of the Department of the East.

RELATED ARTICLE: History according to fiction.

Like any major event, the Battle of Gettysburg has spawned a number of historical a myths. Many of these myths grew out of the postwar writings of those who participated in the battle. The lure of fame, the tendency to exaggerate, and the fog of time combined to create versions of Gettysburg that were largely fictional.

More recently Michael Shaara's Pulitzer Prize-winning historical novel. Killer Angels, and the subsequent film, Gettysburg, based upon the novel, have added more to the panoply of Gettysburg myths. Despite his skillful retelling of the battle and his deft analysis of command relationships, Shaara was not above exaggerating certain events to achieve a heightened sense of drama. His depiction of the relationship between generals Hancock and Armistead is exaggerated. The prime example is the false assertion that Armistead sent his Bible through the lines to General Hancock prior to the assault on Cemetery Ridge, with the request that it be given as a present to Hancock's wife. Shaara took a kernel of truth, Armistead's gift of his prayer book to Almira Hancock at the farewell dinner in June of 1861, and inserted it into the action at Gettysburg. Shaara's now-classic work is fine historical fiction, but as such is not above embellishment and invention.

--MICHAEL E. TELZROW