COMRADES AND COUNTRYMEN: -- It is one of the cardinal features of the Moslem faith that its devotees shall prayerfully face daily toward Mecca; but this further injunction is laid upon them that, "health and wealth permitting," every member of that great religious family shall, once at least during their lives, make a pilgrimage thither. No conveniences of travel mitigate the discomforts of the journey but, in: the fashion of their ancestors, they plod on in the beaten caravan route, spending weeks or possibly months in their faithful efforts to reach the spot which they deem the holiest on earth.
We are inclined to sneer at these pilgrims and to write them down fanatics but, surely it would not harm us sometimes to imitate the zeal with which this reverence of locality has inspired them. With something of their spirit, today we stand upon hallowed ground and now we see before us and around us the Mecca towards which our pilgrim feet have turned.
Since the hour, more than twenty-five years ago, when our "tramp-tramp tramp" was first heard among these hills, many of us have been virtually pilgrims and our way up and down the earth has been a winding one and strange.
Some of us could not, if we would, have revisited these scenes during all these years -- while other some, fanciful as it may seem, would not, if we could; and so it has happened that not many of the five hundred whom we represent to-day have gazed upon these vales and ridges since the days when they gleamed in the July sun of 1863.
And as we now fall in and, seeking to live over again our soldier experiences begin to call the roll--how slowly and how sadly come back the responses and what long waits there are between the answering voices. Many, alas -- how many, almost within eye-shot of where we now stand, passed over to the silent majority. For them can only come the softly spoken words and yet most glorious ones with which, for many years, answer was made when the name of the First Grenadier of France was called--" Dead on the field of honor."
For others, we know that their final discharge came in the still watches of the night and that they were silently borne away from some hospital ward where they had long contended in their steadily losing fight with wounds or disease or both. Still others long time starved and then passed away from earth mid the confines of crowded and horrible Southern prisons while other some. bearing within them the seeds of disease contracted through long and exhaustive service or with the insidious poison of never healing wounds sapping the life current, have, in the more peaceful surroundings of their own firesides, shifted their camp across the river and are tenting on the higher plains beyond.
The many are gone -- the few, the small minority remain to answer "Present" as their names are read. Each passing year makes deeper inroads among the rank of the survivors and soon - ah -- too soon the last of the Old Guard will have "folded his tent and silently stolen away," leaving but a memory behind. What think you? Can it ever be such a memory that the "world will willingly let it die?" This Monument, so long as it shall stand, will give prompt answer to your query.
Michigan, in a larger way, has had her day of dedication and has fittingly emphasized the fact that thirteen independent organizations of her own did valorous service for the country on this field. Her tablet inscription evidences to all how lovingly and how reverently she has performed the act of erecting these memorials "to her martyrs and heroes who fought in defense of Liberty and Union."
And while we come to join in this general demonstration of affectionate remembrance of all the Michigan heroes, and martyrs, it is most natural that we should feel more closely drawn to the Comrades of the dear Old Twenty-fourth with whom we tented and marched and fought and with whom our lives were wondrously united for so many long months. And, in attempting to hold our own special services to-day, we do insist that we shall not be charged with the design of unduly seeking to parade our own deeds.
We simply hold to-day, as we oft have held in the past, our Regimental Reunion. It matters not that we have changed our place of meeting. For the Old Flag is here. The "boys" are here Not perhaps the lively, singing, quick-stepping boys of '63--but still the boys, with much of the old time spirit and all of the old time patriotic blood pulsing rapidly through their veins.
We come, not as at first, from the single County of Wayne but from various parts of the State and even from other States--but, from wheresoever we come, we bring with us the deepest devotion to the Old Regiment, the One Flag and the One Country. And we should be less than human if there did not come to us, as we stand upon this spot and group ourselves about this Monument, a true feeling of pride that, as representatives of this most loyal State, we were permitted to fight this battle through from start to finish. Surely none dare blame us for this feeling. We only sought to do our duty and modestly we now claim our mead of praise.
With rare compliment, you have asked me to speak to you at this Reunion and I confess that I am awkwardly embarrassed for a theme.
At former meetings, the Regimental History has been most fully rehearsed and personal incidents most delightfully told. It would seem that these topics were worn so threadbare that he would be rash indeed who ventured to make use of them here and now. And yet after all, the " nothing new under the sun" helps us to conclude that the old things may lose something of their staleness, if a little different posing of subject is given or some change of color is dashed in.
When General Lee had put his army in motion for an extended invasion of the North, the Washington City Guard or rather the Army of the Potomac was started upon a similar mission. Without serious mishap, though there were many sharp collisions between the Cavalry forces of the two armies, the Potomac River was crossed and the "sacred soil of Virginia" was soon exchanged for the less trodden one of "Maryland, My Maryland."
General Hooker had brought the Union Army from its old camping-ground along the Rappahannock, moving it with consummate skill even into Pennsylvania until it seemed as if, at any hour, the two great rival forces would meet in deadly combat and then - just then, the old drama must be re-enacted and the Potomac Army must have a new Commander.
What a patient, long-suffering, hard-marching and harder fighting Army that was. Composed of some of the very best combative material in the whole country, it often saw its sturdiest efforts to win victory completely balked by the inscrutable jealousies of its higher officers, by the indecision of its then commander or by the machinations of meddling politicians. There was no lack of proper stuff from which to make Division, Corps and Army Commanders - that was shown over and over again - but in the early years of the war, no officer dared to be too successful.
What a wearying burden the martyred Lincoln carried upon his brain and heart. View the picture of his surroundings as you read the story of that life, so full of devotion to the single thought of preserving the Union of the States, and wonder not at the careworn brow and at the aching heart. Think of his days of toil and suffering and suspense -- think of his restless, sleepless nights and all this intensified by the harassing thought that those who should have been staunch supporters and hearty co-operators in his patriotic labor were often proven to be spies in the camp and thwarters of his every move.
Thank God -- all were not such. Many were of a nobler mould and gave him their best thought and word and deed -- yea, life itself, if that were needed. Foremost among these noble ones, we are proud to place our old Corps Commander, John F. Reynolds.
Perhaps few knew him intimately, for he was a strangely reticent man and it may be that the fate of other officers, his equals in rank, taught him more and more the wisdom of guarded speech. But the quiet demeanor could not wholly mask the ardent spirit. His opponents recognized his ability and his soldiers knew that he held in reserve a latent force of clear and cool-headedness that could always be relied upon. They trusted him implicitly. And when the news reached the 1st Corps that General Hooker had been relieved, it was not strange that many of us jumped to the conclusion that our Reynolds would be selected to lead the whole army in the contest that so soon was to occur upon the soil of his native State.
We should have considered that his promotion was only a fitting tribute to his worth and that his military success was certain, if the opposition to his plans came only from Lee and his Lieutenants. And yet all the while we felt that we wanted him with us and as our special leader rather than have him gain the higher office, for which he was so pre-eminently qualified. If thus we wished, our wish was granted.
General Meade was placed in command of the Union Army but three days before the contending forces met. Brief space indeed to familiarize himself with the task imposed upon him; a task, from which a less cautious and a more brilliant soldier might well have shrunk. But he found worthy coadjutors. Reynolds was continued in charge of the Left Wing of the Army (consisting of the 1st, 3rd and 11th Corps) and much, very much was left to his discretion.
No one seemed to know just where or when the blow would fall. Only this was definitely known that Lee had checked his Northward advance and was either at a standstill or else, holding his forces well in hand, was concentrating towards Gettysburg or towards some point in that vicinity. The Union troops were feeling their way along at a snail's pace, covering much ground of necessity with their trains and artillery and yet all within reasonable supporting distance, when all the circumstances of the case are considered.
General Meade had conceived the idea of taking up a defensive position on Pipe Creek. He had examined the locality, had recognized its natural advantages and had hoped and perhaps planned that the expected battle should there occur. This might have been well enough, if he could have been positive that Lee would surely attack him there.
This Lee might possibly have done, for he is reported to have said that "he was weary of all this marching, campaigning and bloodshed and was strongly desirous of settling the whole matter at once." Besides, the Army of Virginia was in the best possible condition. Officers and men were elated with their triumph at Chancellorsville: they had carried the war into the enemy's country; they had easily brushed the Militia from their path; they had enjoyed rare foraging and feasting in Pennsylvania and, evidently, were ready and anxious for a fight anywhere and everywhere.
As opposed to any defensive warfare, read what General Doubleday, in his book on Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, says on page 122.
"Reynolds had the true spirit of a soldier. He was a Pennsylvanian and, inflamed at seeing the devastation of his native State, was most desirous of getting at the enemy as soon as possible. He told me at Poolesville that it was necessary t6 attack the enemy at once to prevent his plundering the whole State. As he had great confidence in his men, it was not difficult to divine what his decision would be. He determined to advance and hold Gettysburg. He directed the Eleventh Corps to come up as a support to the First and he recommended, but did not order, the Third Corps to do the same."
Providence seemed to have inspired the plan of Reynolds.
The light of the first July sun of 1863 is just penciling a tinge of brightness amid the leafy shadows of Marsh Creek and, as here and there, its rays penetrate deeper and deeper and light up the misty forest gloom, stalwart forms are seen to spring lightly from their sylvan couches and to step quickly out into the warm sunlight and to drink in the tonic air of the wooded hillside. Out upon the vibrant air sound the bugle notes of Reveille and soon all the peaceful quiet of the scene is changed.
The early day routine goes on and then brief space of anxious waiting; for all are expectant, restless. Marching orders come, and ere half the distance to Gettysburg is compassed, fighting orders are inferred as the boom of the cannon and the crack of the carbine announce that Buford has engaged the enemy and our Division, as the nearest at hand, is needed at the front.
No loitering now. The ordinary march step is quickened and then this is doubled, till the "black-hatted fellows" are seen and heard from as they envelop and complacently invite to the rear a goodly portion of Archer's Brigade. This is the first success of the day. The few, swift minutes of fighting resulted however, not only in considerable Regimental loss, but they had been sufficient to deprive us of our Chief. Yet even then the messenger of death was merciful, for the bullet instantly did its fatal work. Verily, the "architect of the battle had fallen dead across its portal."
It is useless to speculate as to what would or would not have been done, July 1st, had Reynolds' life been spared. The odds against us were too great to have made it possible to do more than offer stubborn resistance to the enemy's attacks. No officer in the army would have fought the few troops then in hand with more tactical skill and judgment than Reynolds would have done and with less hazard and consequent loss.
He believed in his soldiers and they as thoroughly believed in him; he knew that they could be depended on to fight and to fight well wherever he would lead them; he considered Gettysburg a fitting battle ground and there he fought and there he fell. The First Corps owes much of its success to his forming hand and to his wise, keen brain and every member of it, reverences his memory with undying affection.
After Reynolds' death, there comes a brief lull in the combat. Thus far, the First Division of the First Corps and Buford's Cavalry have been the only Union troops engaged and the two remaining Divisions of the Corps did not arrive upon the field till II A.M. An half hour later, General Howard makes his presence known and assumes command. His Eleventh Corps does not appear till about 1 P.M. And now the conflict is renewed, with even more vigor and deadliness than before.
But who can depict all the happenings of this day? Who can venture to say that his description will prove satisfying to his comrades or even to himself? For after all, how small a portion of a battle-field, its topography or its incidents come within the actual knowledge of a line officer and shape themselves into tangible form before his eyes.
Recall, if you can, any engagement of the war and positively state, of your own knowledge, that you passed through some particular field (a wheat field, for instance) when you were ordered forward to charge the enemy's position. You did pass through the open; so much you remember, but the nature of the field you never once considered. You took possession of a strip of woodland, as a bit of shelter from the scurrying shot, but the character of the fruit or forest trees did not impress itself upon your memory. Some hill or ridge was near; you occupied it as a natural vantage-ground for present or later conflict--but how it sloped or what were its surroundings, you had no time to note. You charged the enemy or were charged by them; but just how you advanced or how you met tile onset, you were too busy then to enter in your mental memorandum book.
Subsequently, some military or civilian report mentioned a wheat field, a peach orchard, an Oak Hill or a Seminary Ridge and thenceforth you adopted the names in your attempted description of the battle. But while the battle raged, your horizon range was limited. The lines of your Regiment or possibly of your Brigade covered all the field that your vision seemed able to compass and accurately note. And even then, in the excitement of the struggle, many little incidents occurred in your immediate vicinity of which you were not cognizant.
Volumes have been written, with The Battle of Gettysburg as sole and only topic, but the whole story has not been told. Much of the planning and more of the doing has been omitted. The living may have given their version of what they did and of what they witnessed there--but, oh -- if the dead lips could be unsealed, what truer and larger testimony might be spread upon the pages of history.
Then we should learn, in fullest measure, how the brave 9,000 First Corps men fought on open plain and on unfortified ridge and hillside, "with no other protection than the flannel blouses that covered their stout hearts;" holding their own, for two long hours, against nearly twice their number and then were slowly and steadily forced back, contesting however every inch of backward move so bloodily that welcome night cried "Halt," before the victorious larger force concluded that they might have accomplished even more, had they but resolutely pressed on.
The great loss inflicted upon our opponents and the fear that still greater loss might ensue, if farther advance was made, begot a caution that proved the salvation of the few remaining Union heroes on that eventful afternoon.
Defeated, but not disheartened, the shadowy remnant of the Old First Corps gather on Cemetery Hill and darkness draws its sheltering curtain about them and grants them needed rest. Rest came indeed to weary limbs, but hearts were overborne with sorrow and sadness banished sleep. For, of the 9.0oo that went into action that day, two-thirds were among the killed, wounded and missing and, of the missing, a very large proportion were either killed or wounded. And three-fourths of those who answered to the Twenty-fourth's Regimental roll-call in the morning at Marsh Creek were not present at nightfall.
Listen to the inscription cut so enduringly on yonder shaft :--"Went into action with 496 officers and men. Killed and mortally wounded 89. Otherwise wounded 2~8. Captured 56. Total casualties 363. Five color bearers killed and all the color guard killed or wounded." What a record of heroism. What a record of loss.
Colonel Fox, in his compilation of Regimental Losses in the Civil War, page 390 says -- "The largest number of casualties in any regiment at Gettysburg occurred in the Twenty fourth Michigan. It was then in the Iron Brigade, Wadsworth's (1st) Division, First Corps and fought in the battle of the first day, while in position in McPherson's Woods near Willoughby Run. It was obliged to fall back from this line, but did not yield the ground until three-fourths of its number had been struck down."
I would add that Colonel Fox insists that the number of killed and mortally wounded at Gettysburg was 94 and not 89, as given on the monumental tablet; and he claims to have verified all his figures by a personal and thorough examination of State as well as Government Records. Whichever should eventually prove to be the correct number, this fact will always remain that the casualties that day were simply frightful; the total of killed and mortally wounded being nineteen per cent, while that of killed, wounded and missing reached the staggering figures of eighty per cent. of the whole number engaged.
We do stand to-day upon ground which we helped to make historic. Within the scope of our vision occurred the greatest battle of the war. Greatest, not in the number of troops upon the battle-field, for, in the Seven Days' battle, Lee's Army of Virginia was about 100,000 strong, while at the Wilderness. General Grant had about 125,000 men. But greatest, in that here the loss of life exceeded that of any other field of combat and that here the Confederate Cause found its Waterloo and henceforward it became more and more a "Lost Cause."
We would not deprecate the valor of the Southern Soldiery, for that would make of but little worth the courage we ascribe to our own. They were "foemen, in every way, worthy of our steel;" boasting the same lineage and proud to be called Americans. When we fought them, we styled them traitors and we fought them to the death. To-day, we heap no harsh epithets upon them; for the war is over and we know but One Country and all the inhabitants thereof are countrymen. And we claim that we shall be none the less loyal to the cause for which we fought, if now we show to all our former foes that we cherish "malice towards none" and only the largest "charity for all."
To friend and foe alike, this whole field is sacred. The baptism of fire and of blood is upon it. It was dedicated in smoke of cannon and rifle which rose like incense during three long Summer days and it needs no word nor stroke of pen to reiterate the consecration then given to it.
Yet, since that date, eloquent lips have inspiringly told the story of the mighty struggle that these hills and valleys witnessed. State after State has commemorated with shaft and column the deeds of their noble citizen soldiers and thus have marked for all time one of the localities where these brave men so grandly exhibited their loyalty.
As a Regiment and then, as individuals, we would tender to "Michigan, My Michigan" our grateful acknowledgments for the graceful and appropriate monument that crowns this knoll and we would heartily thank all who, by vote or voice, helped to place it here.
With the countless other ones that range along these slopes and ridges, this shall prove a marker that shall worthily show where the strong tide of battle ebbed and flowed. Thousands will visit this spot and, recalling the names of some who fought and of some who fell upon this field, will rejoice that the Peninsula State has here so handsomely remembered her gallant soldiers. These State days and these Regimental days that specially dedicate these Memorial Shafts in honor of the Union Soldier seem but a fitting sequel to that earlier service of consecration in November 1863, when our great War President uttered in yonder Cemetery the words that thrill us even now with their strange pathos:
Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this confluent a new Nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.
We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that Nation might live.
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us: that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this Nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth.
A quarter of a century ago these words were spoken and the task that weighed upon this noble heart had not been finished. With "these honored dead," of whom he so touchingly speaks, he dedicated and devoted his life to this unfinished work. His words come to us to-day with peculiar meaning and they commend themselves to our most earnest thought.
For perhaps we increasingly need to learn what patriotism really signifies and what a wealth of meaning is infolded in that lofty, loyal spirit which places love of country and devotion to that country's best interests far above and beyond all petty sectional feeling and party success. Gleaning then an object lesson on this patriotic field, our presence here shall be productive of unquestioned good.
It may be that I should apologize because I have made no personal mention of any member of the regiment and have avoided all allusions to any incidental happenings on the march or in the field. If, in this omission, I have disappointed any--I can now only express any sincere regret and humbly beg to be forgiven.
At Gettysburg', every one did full soldierly duty and filled the niche he was called upon to occupy. Officer and man, rank and file, all were in the places assigned them and all were equally brave and deserving of the highest praise.
We grasp the hand of the living and try to show them how glad we are that an over-ruling Providence protected them and spared their lives, not only through the terrible storm of shot and shell that fell about them on that first July day, but for so many years thereafter and has brought them safely onward to this present and has granted them the possession of so many earthly enjoyments.
We would pay fitting homage to the silent ones who peacefully sleep on yonder hill or in the quiet God's Acres in our own State and would garland their resting place with amaranthine flowers. Their memory we shall ever cherish as a priceless treasure. Many of the heads I see before me are tinged with gray; the upright forms of long ago are bending over towards Mother Earth; the old time lope has given way to the slow and measured pace and the eyes are losing much of their pristine brightness.
These facts touch us solemnly as we reflect that this may be, for some of us, our last Reunion. Since we have met and have traversed these hills and valleys together, there has come to us a sense of sadness and disappointment. For we find not here all that we sought or hoped to see.
How changed is all the landscape. And, as with all the goodly things around us, so with us time has wrought most startling changes. Nature here has covered with her mantle of green or has hidden with great growths of shrub or forest the spots which we thought that we could easily recognize. And as we gaze about us, we stand amazed at the outlook; for the scars of conflict are all concealed, if not wholly blotted out.
Is it not, my friends, one of God's loving ways of teaching us that he is constantly seeking to overlay our heart-sorrows with greater and more lasting heart-joys?
The battle here, with all the woe and pain and death it brought to many an individual soldier, resulted in a glorious fruitage. For the laurel of Victory was the precursor of the olive branch of Peace, An entire Nation, united and prosperous, now rejoices in the blessings that were made possible, in God's good time, by the bloody field of Gettysburg.
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