A Wisconsin Prisoner of War at Gettysburg

 

Forage cap with a blue moon crescent corps badge indicating that it belonged to a soldier in the Third Division of the 11th Army Corps. The 26th Wisconsin served in the Second Brigade of the Third Division during the Chancellorsville and Gettysburg campaigns. It would go west with the bulk of the 11th Corps in September 1863 and serve in the Army of the Cumberland for the rest of the war. 

Adjutant Albert Wallber of the 26th Wisconsin provided the following account of his experiences as a prisoner of war during the Battle of Gettysburg to the Wisconsin Commandery of the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States on October 6, 1909.

          At dawn on July 1, 1863, we marched in the direction of Gettysburg. We came over rugged roads, climbed fences, waded small streams and marshes which had been formed by the rain the day previous. Suddenly the order came to hurry on. Now commenced a most toilsome and fatiguing march. We reached the hilly country and, running, climbed rocky hills. The rain fell in torrents; the atmosphere was extremely sultry so that the soldiers, burdened with their accouterments, heavily packed knapsacks, blankets, haversacks, and arms could proceed onward only with the greatest exertion.

          But orderlies, one after another, came galloping up, spurring us on to haste. We heard the roaring of the cannon in the distance. Summoning all our strength we finally reached Gettysburg, trotted through the streets on the double quick, and were assigned to a position in an open field north of the town with orders to lie down to escape the shot and shell which came flying over our heads. To our left, we saw the First Corps in action and witnessed its several charges and retreats. The First and Eleventh Corps, probably about 12,000 men, were here pitted against General Ewell’s entire command.

Three soldiers of the 26th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry pose in front of the same backdrop in images taken from when the regiment mustered into service in September 1862. A predominantly German regiment raised in Milwaukee, the 26th Wisconsin was originally called the Sigel Regiment in honor of General Franz Sigel.  Left to right: Private Ferdinand Wallich of Co. C, at center is Corporal John Held of Co. D, and on the right is Sergeant Joseph Maschauer of Co. H who was wounded on July 1st at Gettysburg. 


          The odds being largely against us, our right wing was soon enveloped by the Rebel forces and driven back. During the retreat, a fragment of a shell threw me down. I was stunned but not hurt. In coming to, I found myself inside the Rebel lines. A soldier shouted several times, “Where is an officer?” Upon seeing me lying on the ground, he leveled his gun and was about to pull the trigger when an officer of his company stepped in front of me and beckoning to his men said, “Come on, my brave boys, come on.”

          It was a sorrowful sight passing over the battlefield. Many a friend lay there lifeless; others, more or less seriously wounded, begged for water, but my captors refused to allow me to render assistance and after relieving me of my sword and revolver, told me to walk back. In doing so, I went across the battlefield of the Rebels where the dead outnumbered the wounded, mostly shot in the head or through the breast which proved that the aim of our soldiers was good. Rebel officers desired to know the strength of our forces, whether the entire Army of the Potomac had arrived, who General Hooker’s successor was, and how far it was to Baltimore. To all these questions I answered, “I don’t know.”

          During our retreat one other officer and 46 men of the 26th Wisconsin were taken prisoners. I met them on a field near a farm with several thousand other prisoners. Officers and men were separated the next morning and a Rebel general communicated to us that General Lee was ready to parole and send us to Carlisle for exchange. Major General Halleck, however, had promulgated an order forbidding such paroles, naming Vicksburg and City Point as the only places where exchanges should take place. Under these conditions, we declined the proffered parole even though there stared in our faces a deportation to Richmond unless General Meade should be victorious, pursue the enemy, and free us.

Recruiting handbill for the 26th Wisconsin

          We were next marched about one and a half miles behind the Rebel lines and there received our first rations, but they were of homeopathic quantity consisting of a small piece of raw meat, a handful of flour, and a few grains of salt. As we possessed neither cooking nor baking utensils, this supply savored of malice. We stood there asking ourselves, what should we do with this manifestation of Rebel generosity? My companion Captain Domschke had the flour tied up in a rag, but in marching the flaps opened, depositing the flour on the wet grass. Two more sorrowful people could not be imagined as we looked down upon our loss for we were very, very hungry. But still we had our meat and this we cooked in a small tin cup which I had saved. This was the only food for the day.

          Our next ration, however, we guarded more carefully. Necessity is the mother of invention; I will explain the procedure. We made the dough on a rubber cape, flattening the dough and shaping it like a German pancake. Stones were placed on three sides supported by wooden sticks with a flat stone on top of which a fire was kindled. When this stone was hot, the cake was put on and as soon as the underside was baked, it was turned over and the second baking process begun. I could hardly touch such bread now, but we then had a ravenous appetite and only wished we had more of it.

Survivors of the 26th Wisconsin pose in front of their regimental monument on the field at Gettysburg on July 1, 1888, the 25th anniversary of the battle. The 26th Wisconsin lost 191 men killed or mortally wounded during its Civil war service, one of the highest percentages in the Union army. 

          The second day’s battle neared its end. We heard the fire of musketry and the roaring of cannon but were unable to find out who had been victorious. The prisoners coming in did not know. In the evening, the Rebel bands played lively airs and we judged from this that the enemy had the best of the encounter. We laid down with sad misgivings.

          On the morning of July 3rd, lying on the ground near General George Pickett’s headquarters, we had a chance to see this officer as he emerged from his tent; his long locks reaching to his shoulders, artistically arranged, his high riding boots brilliantly polished, his external appearance without a fault, he mounted his horse. In looking at his cheeks and nose, we divined that their color was not caused by drinking soda water only. With a haughty air, imbued with his own importance, he galloped to the front but when we met him a few days later, a dark shadow hovered over him. He lost two-thirds of his division on that eventful 3rd of July.

          A dismal silence reigned in the forenoon, the forerunner of generally violent catastrophes. In the afternoon, a fearful cannonade was heard which shook the earth. Our hearts were beating fast, our anxiety was at fever heat, for it was clear to us that this day was significant. We had a presentiment that this would be the critical day, the decisive battle. When night approached, the cannon and musketry ceased. What was the result? The musicians remained silent. Could we base any hopes on this? No news came to us. In utter despair, tired, and hungry, we spent the night lying on the green sward.

          The sun woke us on July 4th. But what a 4th was this! At home, it is a day of jubilation, while here we did not know whether the enemy had succeeded in shaking the foundation of our republic. We huddled together on a field surrounded by a fence on the outside of which sentinels were posted- weather-beaten fellows, clad in torn gray garments, who eyed us malignantly.  The weather had turned gloomy and we sat around with heavy hearts, wondering what news we would likely hear when one of our officers, disregarding all possible consequences, gave vent to his feelings and in honor of the day began a patriotic song. The sentinels pricked up their ears, looked at us, but said nothing. This seemed encouraging, for we reasoned that they would hardly permit us to indulge in this harmless pleasure had they been victorious. Their severity was too well known to us, why then, in this case, were they so lenient? Why could we sing John Brown and Rally Round the Flag? This leniency must have a reason. Could it mean that they were beaten on July 3rd?

General George Pickett

          Not long after a curious commotion was visible around us. Troops commenced to maneuver, orderlies galloped to and fro, and the immense wagon train began to move. Up sprang one of our officers, a typical Yankee, to a mound nearby, stretched his long neck and sniffing the air in all directions concluded his observations by saying, “Gentlemen, this signifies that they are skedaddling.” He guessed right. Lee was beaten and we were soon ordered to follow the retreating foe.

          Toward noon a terrible rainstorm broke loose. The roar was utilized by the army wagons, batteries, and prairie schooners but not by the ambulances containing the wounded who moaned piteously as they were driven over the fields at a gallop. The Rebels had lost and were fleeing. We rejoiced, although aware of what our fate would be, unless our forces attacked the retreating enemy and liberated us. We waited anxiously for the release, but alas, day after day vanished when we realized that our hope was in vain. Lee’s army retreated in two columns, infantry and artillery; taking the prisoners as a third column flanked by infantry. As the roads for such a mass of men, guns, and vehicles were not wide enough we were obliged to wander over rough fields, climb fences, and wade through streams formed by the late rain.

          During that afternoon, General Lee rode up, accompanied by several members of his staff. I had a position where I could look squarely into his face as anyone would naturally do when confronted by such a distinguished opponent. He showed no sign of worry. His countenance was placid and he appeared as cool and collected as if nothing unusual had transpired, but who could fathom the thoughts which were hidden behind his brow after such a disastrous repulse? General Lee, however, did not linger long, he merely glanced over the motley crowd before him, then gave a few verbal orders to his lieutenants and passed on.

 Adjutant Wallber eventually would arrive at Libby Prison where he remained a prisoner of war for roughly six months. On February 9, 1864, he was one of the lucky officers to escape from the prison and make it back safely to Union lines. He resigned his commission on April 3, 1864, and returned home to Wisconsin where he lived until his passing in 1911.

 

Source:

“From Gettysburg to Libby Prison,” Adjutant Albert Wallber, 26th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry. War Papers Read Before the Commandery of the State of Wisconsin, Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States. Volume IV. Milwaukee: Burdick & Allen, 1914, pgs. 191-196

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