Before
Longstreet had attempted to obey Lee's command to take these hills,
General Meade's blue host had reached them and were entrenching
themselves.
The Confederate Commander discovered that in the death of Jackson, he
had lost his right arm.
It was one o'clock before Longstreet moved to the attack, hurling his
columns in reckless daring against these bristling heights. When
darkness drew its kindly veil over the scene, Lee's army had driven
General Sickles from his chosen position to his second line of defense
on the hill behind, gained a foothold in the famous Devil's Den at the
base of the Round Tops, broken the lines of the Union right and held
their fortifications on Culp's Hill.
The day had been one of frightful slaughter.
The Union losses in the two days had reached the appalling total of more
than twenty thousand men. Lee had lost fifteen thousand.
The brilliant July moon rose and flooded this field of blood and death
with silent glory. From every nook and corner, from every shadow and
across every open space, through the hot breath of the night, came the
moans of thousands, and louder than all the long agonizing cries for
water. Many a man in grey crawled over the ragged rocks to press his
canteen to the lips of his dying enemy in blue, and many a boy in blue
did as much for the man in grey.
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