The North Texan, Volume 30, Number 2, February 1980 Page: 5
12 p. : ill.View a full description of this periodical.
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Excerpts
The following are excerpts from
three of Dr. Vandiver's most well-
known works:
Black Jack
The Life and Times
of John J. Pershing
Heroic moments seem a good deal
less to participants, and to the men on
Kettle Hill, things to their left front
looked fairly sticky. Pershing, still with
Wint's squadron, found himself In line
of battle on a thin ridge running
between Kettle and San Juan and
shared the general impression that
one big battle raged—not two. If the
battle continued, everyone had to get
back Into it. Leading Wint's
detachment left, around the south end
of the small take blocking the way to
the fighting, Pershing soon found
elements of Kent's division, the 3rd
and 6th Cavalry regiments. The 6th
were friends, the cause common;
Wint's men joined the end of the
American line as it struggled Into the
fiercest fire anyone—even Joe
Wheeler—had ever seen. Spanish
volleys taught lessons In fire
discipline as bullets whipped
Americans down with sound and
impact. There were no enemy
machine guns but apparently none
were needed—all Infantrymen that
day became believers in the riflel
There were some American
machine guns, Gatllngs, and their
sudden appearance attested the
personal tenacity of their commander,
Lt. John Henry Parker. He had
wormed permission to bring them,
scrounged lighterage ashore on the
coast, pushed and browbeat his way
through the wreckage of the
American rear, and finally took
North
fexan
Vol. 30, No. 2 February 1980
Editor—Cathy Day
Designer—Broc Sears
Editorial Assistant—Patti Balen-
tine
Photographers—Barbara Barkleyt
Charles Davis, Mark W. Russell
and David Edwards (cover), John
Harrison, Doug Milner, Mike Smith,
John Mazziotta, Frederick Welk
Contributors—Jerry Barnes, Pat
Colonna, Fred Graham, Charlotte
Guest, Kathy Kitchens, Dr. Frank
E. Vandiver, Hollis Walker, Sharon
Ware, John Weeks
The North Texan (U.S.P.S. 394-960)
is published four times a year in the
months of February, May, August and
November by North Texas State
University, Administration Building,
Denton, Texas 76203, for distribution to
parents of students, alumni and friends
of the university. Second class postage
paid at Denton, Texas and at additional
mailing offices.
The diverse views on matters of
public interest which are presented in
The North Texan do not necessarily
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It is the policy of North Texas State
University not to discriminate on the
basis of sex, race, color, religion, age,
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POSTMASTER:
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address, accompanied if possible by
the old address label, to NTSU Alumni
Association, Box 13557, NT Station,
Denton, TX, 76203.
position a scant seven hundred yards
from the frowning Spanish works. For
the first time during the entire day,
American firepower outmatched the
enemy's—3,600 rounds a minute
scourged the hostile ditches. "Itwas
terrible," a Spanish officer noted,
"They went 'b-r-r-r,' like a lawn mower
cutting the grass over our trenches."4*
With the new American scything at
the top of the hill, some of the
defenders quit the field. Now the view
of the hillside changed; up out of the
grass came the Yanks, in campaign
hats cocked and dirty, their rifles
glinting. As U.S. artillery joined in
support, these figures began to run
upward, some tumbling, spinning
down, the rest surging on, bayonets
flashing—and over all the scene came
a curious, high-pitched yelling that
must have touched lost chords in
Wheeler's memory. No one ordered a
battle yell and it was not disciplined,
but it was terrible and chilling and it
bubbled in the blood.
A last rush came after a short halt
to let U.S. shells search further uphill.
When the barrage lifted, the whole
line stormed the crest and the enemy
fled. San Juan belonged to the takers.
Uncertain victors took over enemy
entrenchments, improved them for
reverse defense, set up hasty gun
positions, and settled to a nervous
night. Pershing, exhilarated, helped
wounded comrades, looked over the
field, spotted some friends, and
joined them for postaction discussion.
Just below the crest of San Juan Hill,
Col. Leonard Wood, glowing about his
volunteers, sat with Capt. H.P.
Kingsbury, Jack's old acquaintance
from the 6th Cavalry, and a couple of
other officers. Much praise was
lavished, but an oddly depressing
note crept into the talk. "I was
surprised to hear Colonel Wood,"
said Jack, "give it as his opinion that
our lines should be withdrawn to
another position, as he did not think
we could hold the one we had
captured. I took decided issue with
that view, saying that I thought it
would be a serious mistake." Some of.
the more senior officers sided with the
cautious Wood; younger men agreed
with Jack. Rumor had it that later
some higher rankers suggested such
a retreat to General Wheeler—who
was not called "Fightin' Joe" by his
Rebel compatriots because he
retreated. Swiftly he vetoed the
scheme. Pershing remained miffed
and a bit suspicious of superiors who
quailed amidst courage.49
Their Tattered Flags
The Epic of the Confederacy
Sunshine. Many men noticed it on
July 3, sunshine and the curious quiet
of a field almost ready for battle. Lee
had made up his mind. Brushing
aside Longstreet's plan to flank the
Federals around their left, he had
fixed on smashing the Yankee center.
It was a plan defying logic. Why hit the
one surely untouched Union corps on
the field? Why attack frontally against
large numbers of guns? Confidence is
part of the answer. Lee believed in his
men. Necessity is another part of the
answer. Stuart was around
somewhere behind the enemy now,
close but not yet up. It mattered where
he was, for his columns would guard
the army's wagon trains if the
Confederates changed position.40
And there was one overriding
reason—the nature of Robert E. Lee.
He had come this far; his army was at
its finest pitch and gear; two
indecisive days had earned nothing
save casualties; no equal chance
might come again; if the army went
back, the North would take heart and
the South quail. For the man who had
said at Fredericksburg, "It is well that
war is so terrible—or we should grow
too fond of it,"41 only one choice was
open. Attack the Union center; force
the issue now.
Men recalled their places that
day—recalled, too, that Southern
guns bristled everywhere in the lines
(there were 142 of them42) and that the
sun etched things sharply. It was a
strange kind of day, one fragmented
by small memories. Men noted again
the flights of birds, some listened to a
band playing in Pettigrew's brigade,
many lay on the soft ground and
waited as Federal shells probed the
trees on Seminary Ridge, and many of
them died. One, a sergeant of
Company A, 14th Tennessee, could
hear, years later, the things he said to
himself. June Kimble was his name,
his was the center regiment in
Archer's brigade, and he was curious.
In a lull after the bombardment that
morning he walked to the fringe of the
woods and looked at the place his
men would go. Guns crowning the
Federal hills, the little clump of trees
that fixed so many an eye that day, the
whole position lay shimmering far
away across almost a mile of open,
rolling land. There, up there, Into that
line of black guns behind the low
stone wall, there his men would go.
Kimble was scared, almost sick at the
sight, 4nd began mumbling to
himself: "June Kimble, are you going
to do your duty today?" And he
answered, "I'll do it, so help me
God."43
Porter Alexander of Longstreet's
artillery remembered the thunderous,
awesome Rebel bombardment that
consumed ammunition in the early
afternoon, remembered, too, being
stunned when Old Pete later virtually
fixed responsibility for the attack on
him. Longstreet sulked in
disapproval; Fremantle eagerly
sought a vantage point to watch; Lee
vanished from prominence; Sergeant
D.B. Easley, Company H, 14th
Virginia, closed files and watched for
skulkers; George Pickett watched his
division and some men from Hill's
corps line up for a charge. Grandly
mounted, Pickett talked with
Longstreet during a momentary lull in
noise, scratched a brief note to his
fiancee, and rode to lead one of
gallantry's last great gestures.44
The Rebels came out of the trees at
about 3:15. Yankees could count the
battle flags, and there were many; the
formation was trim and the march
began slowly to allow for distance and
rising ground. Some changes in
direction were accomplished easily by
the 15,000 of Pickett's charge, and the
lines of battle bunched slightly.
Silence. Federal gunners waited for
closer range. Steadily now the
Johnnies marched, lines dressed and
closing. Off to the right of them some
long-range cannon boomed; a few
marchers fell. Acrossa small stream
they went, through a fence, then
straight up the hill toward the trees,
the guns, the lurking infantry.
Cadence was kept and the steady
pace covered ground. Men
remembered how it was on the way; to
some the silence crowned the world,
then it broke in a clap so awful it was
more than sound, in a roar so angry it
was tangible, in an endless crack of
doom. Shells raked the Rebs now, cut
gaps in their serried ranks; the gaps
closed, the lines moved on, faster;
men leaned forward against some
great wind that beat at them; up the
hill they went, bunching more as
Yankee batteries took them in flank,
ate away the outward fringes of
Pickett's command, and chopped
hungrily at lives. Without knowing it
they were running, crouched,
bayonets flashing, flags waving, and
they began their Rebel yell. In musket
range of the stone wait and the clump
of trees they halted, some of them, to
fire; took a withering volley right in the
face, recoiled, went on, and carried
the wall. Then the charge faided in
carnage and countercharge. A
handful, some thought as many as
300, rode the South's tide to its height;
most of the handful died in an angle
by the fated clump of trees.49
Back down that awful slope the rest
of the grayclads fled, razed and raked
and maimed again. And when at last
the race was done, a scant 5,000 of
Pickett's original 15,000 returned.
Memories are vivid about the
aftermath. Many saw Lee at his best;
he took the blame: "All this is my fault.
Too badl Too badl Oh, too bad!" he
said, as if a mea culpa would excuse
such wholesale waste.49 Meade
wasted a chance for counterattack,
and two days later Lee began the long
journey back to Virginia.
Mighty Stonewall
Everything had been done to put
more ifien onihe Yankee flank than
the enemy had in position. Everything
had been done to ensure secrecy,
and although it seemed that Hooker
ought to have some advance notice,
secrecy appeared to have been
preserved. Everything had been done
to make the attack of the Second
Corps decisive. Reaching into a
pocket beneath his coat, Old Jack
took out his watch and gazed at it
intently, lips pressed tight together. It
was, he saw, 5:15 p.m.
"Are you ready, General Rodes?"
"Yes, sir," came the determined
response.
"You can go forward then,"
Stonewall said, quietly and without
visible excitement.
Rodes swept his line with hard blue
eyes, nodded his blond head. A
bugler straightened, Inhaled. Through
the sleepy, warm woodland rang the
notes. Charge) Other bugles took up
the call. Right, left, in the center. A
moment of tense silence as the
chilling notes floated over the army.
Men gripped their rifles, bayonets
fixed, and watched the skirmishers
dash through the brush. Slowly at
first, then with gathering speed, the
massive lines moved forward. Faster,
until at last the men were running,
crashing, tearing through the trees
and scrubs. Ahead of them startled
deer, rabbits, and other animals fled
in terror toward the Union Army. A
moment's pause to untangle part of
the skirmish line, then on again, faster
than before. Out of a belt of woods at
last, into relatively open ground,
straight at the stacked arms of lazing
boys in blue. A feeble scattering of
shots, then the enemy ran.
February 1980
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North Texas State University. The North Texan, Volume 30, Number 2, February 1980, periodical, February 1980; Denton, Texas. (https://digital.library.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metadc98821/m1/5/: accessed March 28, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, UNT Digital Library, https://digital.library.unt.edu; crediting University Relations, Communications & Marketing department for UNT.