Researching for this blog I found an interesting post-script to the story of the 2nd Massachusetts Regiment’s loss of their commander and over 40% of their rank-and-file in Spangler’s Meadow. (See 13 Hidd en, Haunted, Hotspots of Gettysburg # 9  for their story.) Apparently word of their tenacious, bloody and selfless action made its way to their higher-ups. As the tattered remnants of the 2nd Massachusetts Regiment were leaving the battlefield, they marched past the headquarters of General Slocum, their Corps commander. Slocum and his staff were standing outside and someone recognized the regiment. The staff fell silent and Slocum removed his hat, followed by the rest of the staff, honoring the unit that proved too brave for its own good.

We used to joke irreverently in the park service that the
soldiers were so inconsiderate as to not fight the battle in a way that future
tourists could see the battlefield in a chronological, understandable way. With
that in mind, the fighting in Pardee Field was earlier on the morning of July 3 than when the fighting in
Spangler’s Meadow took place. Still, it is all part of the long battle for
Culp’s Hill

The Union defensive preparations on Culp’s Hill were
formidable. (I’ll get into the reasons why tactics evolved from early in the
war in my next blog.) The fighting over the breastworks on Culp’s Hill was
important not only to the immediate conflict, but to the final outcome of the
battle and perhaps even the war.

When Confederates, on the evening of July 2, took over the
Union lines on Culp’s Hill (virtually without a fight since the Yankees had
earlier been sent to the more endangered other end of the field) they were
within a short distance of the Baltimore Pike and the rear of the Union Army.
To explain the danger a little further, the “rear” of an army is where everyone
who can’t or isn’t supposed to, or doesn’t want to, fight goes. Teamsters,
cooks, orderlies, blacksmiths, body-servants, the walking wounded, some staff
members, and skulkers shirking their duty, all congregate at the rear. If the
Confederates had suddenly burst from the woods along the Baltimore Pike in the
darkness, those in the rear of the Union line would have evaporated in panicked
confusion and the fighting men in the front line would have had been attacked
from the rear by the enemy.

Worse yet, one of their main retreat routes, the Baltimore
Pike, would have been captured and sealed off by the Confederates. They had
already cut the Emmitsburg Road with their attack earlier on July 2. All that
was left for retreat would have been the Taneytown Road: one road for 97,000
Union soldiers (minus those killed and wounded in the first day’s battle), thousands
of horses and wagons, the wounded and the ambulances to squeeze out of
Gettysburg. It would have been the worst traffic jam in the world.

A quick look at a map shows that from Pardee Field it is only about 300 yards to the Baltimore Pike, and about five hundred yards to the Pike from the crest of Culp’s Hill. Famed historian Edwin Coddington, in his classic work The Gettysburg Campaign, emphasized that the battle for Culp’s Hill, which began at sunrise and lasted until noon on July 3, has been overshadowed by Longstreet’s Assault (“Pickett’s Charge”) later in the day. He also points out that the fighting on Culp’s Hill easily involved at least three-quarters of the number of men that are attributed to Pickett’s Charge. So it was a big battle with at least as much at stake as the later, more famous assault.

As with all battles terrain was king, dictating where to
place troops and artillery to the best advantage. And Culp’s Hill offers some
interesting terrain: hills linked together by “saddles” through which troops
could move, woods to conceal assaults until the last minute, gullies behind the
lines where troops could rest, clean fouled weapons, refit with ammunition,
food, and water, then return to the fight somewhat refreshed.

The terrain in that sector was utilized best by the Union
commanders, who placed five batteries of artillery so as to rake what was to
become known as Pardee Field along the front of their infantry. They also
placed some units, like the 310 men of the 20th Connecticut, away
from the main position to harass the Confederates in their assaults. They could
pour fire into the flank of a Confederate column as it approached Pardee Field
and act as “spotters” for the artillery.

Confederate Maj. Gen. Edward Johnson had launched two major,
unsuccessful, efforts farther up Culp’s Hill in an attempt to dislodge the
Union troops from their positions. Now he was ready to order a third.

On the northwest side of Pardee Field stood the 5th
Ohio and 147th Pennsylvania, commanded by Lt. Col. Ario Pardee, Jr.,
after whom the deadly field would be named. Opposite them was Steuart’s
Confederate Brigade of about 900 men. The Confederates were aware of the
impending danger of an assault across an open field swept by artillery. Major
Goldsborough, commanding the Confederate 1st Maryland Battalion on
the right of the line, couldn’t believe the order to attack and said to his
captain it was “nothing less than murder to send men into that slaughter pen.”
Historian Harry Pfanz wrote that the Maryland men, with that strange prescience
given to the doomed, seemed to know what was coming and to “feel the solemnity
of the occasion.”

Steuart’s men were quietly ordered to fix bayonets. Steuart,
himself, ordered the attack and accompanied it on foot. From their right came
Daniel’s Brigade to assist in the assault.

According to some of the rebels attacking across open Pardee
Field, as soon as they left the trees they received severe crossfire from
infantry and the artillery farther away. Still, they continued their march
across the 300-yard open field, at first at the double quick, then slowing as
they reached the mid-point. At 100 yards—point-blank range for the
rifled-musket—the 147th Pennsylvania let loose a volley. One
participant actually heard the men shriek as they were hit and killed. The 1st
Maryland was decimated. Just to their left a soldier in Company A of the 37th
Virginia looked around and saw that he and only one other man of the company
were still standing.

Confederates continued to advance, bayonets fixed, rifles at
the right-shoulder shift, closing up whenever a Yankee bullet left a gap in the
ranks, across the open field and into the Union fire until their line seemed to
waver. With that, the line broke again into a double quick and ran at the Union
line.

Confederate Capt. William H. Murray and the 1st
Maryland got to within 40 yards of the enemy when they heard a shout to
withdraw. In the din, Murray was seen waving his sword, which was taken as a
signal by the men to retreat. Murray wouldn’t be able to confirm it: he was
immediately shot in the neck.

Some in the 1st Maryland remonstrated against
retreat, but the impetus was established and the withdrawal continued back up
the slope.

Union Brig. Gen. Thomas L. Kane recalled seeing a dog race
from the Confederate advancing lines into the Union lines, yapping and barking
as if he thought the two enemies were fire companies competing as in peaceful
times gone by. Kane saw him first on three legs, hobbling between the wounded,
perhaps looking for a dead master. “He licked someone’s hand, they said, after
he was perfectly riddled.” After the fighting was over, Kane ordered that the
dog, “as the only Christian minded being on either side,” be honorably buried.

Confederate Gen. Steuart, after watching the defeat, was in
tears, overcome and muttering, “My poor boys,” over and over.

The Confederate wounded left in the field continued to be
struck, some several times, before the firing ended. Some Union troops left
their positions to enter the field and bring some of the wounded into their
lines. One was a private from Maryland. When the Union men found out where he
was from, they asked him if he knew he had been fighting men from his own
state. Unapologetically, and apparently still upset that some of his neighbors
didn’t secede, he answered they did and that they had intended to.

It was remembered that when first told of the assault the
Maryland Battalion was about to make, Capt. Murray went down the line and shook
the hand of every man saying, “Goodbye, it is not likely that we shall meet
again.” The 24 year-old captain’s premonition came true. He died of his neck
wound and is buried in Loudon Park Cemetery in Baltimore.

Directions to Pardee Field: Take Baltimore Pike (Route 97) South. Go through the light for the Visitor’s Center and turn left onto Colgrove Avenue (follow the Auto Tour sign). This will take you past Spangler’s Meadow on your right and Spangler’s Spring on your left. Continue past the Spangler’s Spring parking area. Take the left hand fork onto Geary Avenue. Drive through the woods until a field opens up on your right. There is a large rock in the middle of the field with the words “Pardee Field” on it.

Pardee Field, when it is mown, can be seen for the killing
ground it was. Most of the accompanying photos were taken from the position of
the 147th Pennsylvania Monument. Imagine a line of men,
shoulder-to-shoulder just 40 to 60 yards ahead and the easy target they would
make.

S. G. Elliott’s company, by June 10, 1864, had created a map
of the Gettysburg Battlefield, not even a year after the battle. One of the
most interesting features is that it shows the mass graves around the
battlefield. The Union dead had been removed from the battlefield and
re-interred in the new National Cemetery. The Confederates were still buried on
the field and would remain there until the early 1870s. Keeping in mind that
the Elliott map may not be wholly accurate, it shows a large number of graves
in the area circled by Geary Avenue, including Pardee Field. The map shows
about 28 Union graves and 28 Confederates in four rows.

Those who are interested in attempting to collect EVP in the
area will be pleased that Pardee Field is somewhat off the beaten path and
relatively quiet. Some names that may yield results are: Capt. William H.
Murray, mortally wounded in the neck; Pvt. D. Ridgely Howard, (of the old
Maryland Howards) wounded in the field; Maj. William W. Goldsborough, wounded;
Sgt. James W. Thomas, Co. A, 1st Maryland, wounded.

I had some results addressing the men of the 147th
Pennsylvania, but did not have a chance to narrow down to whom I was speaking.

Dowsing rods or a pendulum can be used to locate graves in the field. It is assumed that most of the soldiers buried in Pardee Field have been removed, but one can never know for sure at Gettysburg. The thing to keep in mind about dowsing is that even empty graves will make the rods cross, as evidenced by the experience Carol, my wife, had at an abandoned church cemetery in Virginia and at one of the abandoned military cemeteries on the Wilderness Battlefield. The graves had been emptied a century ago, yet the rods still crossed over the grave sites apparently from the remnant human energy. Dowsing rods will react to naturally occurring ley lines beneath the sod. And they’ll do what they are famously known for: finding underground water.