A Thin Blue Line:
Col. David Ireland and the 137th New York at Culp's Hill   
Gettysburg, PA – August 2003

Col. David Ireland

Another reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg. Once again, the spectators’ eyes are directed to Picketts’ Charge. No denying its final, conclusive spectacular end to the Confederate thrust into the North. The Union Army’s steadfastness at the Bloody Angle is justifiably world-renowned . But other, equally climactic engagements on that hallowed field remain little recognized, especially by the general public. The stalwart performance of Gen. George Greene’s brigade of New Yorkers at Culp’s Hill on the night of July 2 is a case in point. The brilliant maneuvering and iron determination of that brigade’s 137th New York regiment under Col. David Ireland deserves far wider recognition.

            Meade’s Union army at Gettysburg had assumed a defensive position in the form of a fish hook, its right flank anchored at Culp’s Hill. Gen. Henry Slocum’s XII Corps built breastworks during the morning of July 2 along the east slope of the highest summit, across the saddle, then south across the east slope of the lower hill, nearly down to the Baltimore Pike. Facing them across Rock Creek was Ewell’s Corps. It was probably wise that Ewell didn’t order the attack that Lee clearly desired that afternoon. The Confederates faced a strong force, dug in on the high ground. Meanwhile, to the west, Sickles ill-advised salient was being mauled by Longstreet’s corps. Meade needed more men to cover Sickles withdrawal. Slocum pulled five of his six brigades off Culp’s Hill to go help, leaving Greene’s Third Brigade alone on the upper summit. The 137th New York, led by Col. David Ireland, was the lone regiment remaining on the right end of the Union line.

            At dusk, the skirmish line under Col. Redington began to slowly fall back as Gen. “Allegheny” Johnson’s entire division formed battle lines, moved out from the Benner farm, fought their way across Rock Creek and worked their way toward the upper summit of Culp’s Hill. Gen. George Steuart’s brigade of Virginians moved south, aiming for the lower summit. Johnson knew that capturing all of Culp’s Hill would let Lee’s artillery command Cemetery Hill, the heart of the Union position. It would open the way to the rear of the Union lines on Cemetery Ridge. Then Ewell and Longstreet could crush the Union army between their two Corps. The crushing victory Lee foresaw when he moved north into Pennsylvania would lead to the independence of the Confederacy. It nearly came to pass.

            The Union breastworks south of the upper summit were abandoned, and only Greene’s brigade remained on the upper hill. While the upper hill’s steep rocky slope made the rebel attack difficult, the approach to the saddle and lower slope was quite manageable.

            Greene, realizing the danger, asked for reinforcements. When none were forthcoming, he ordered his regiments to spread their lines out, to cover as much of the south breastworks as possible. Shifting the men to the right, they formed a single line of muskets, foregoing the prescribed secondary line. Col. Ireland shifted the 400 men of the 137th New York out of their trenches to defend the line down the saddle and up and over the lower summit. Greene, with great foresight, had earlier constructed a “traverse”, a line of breastworks facing south below the summit of the upper hill, joining the east breastworks at the left of the 137th’s original position.

From dusk till well after nightfall, Johnson’s division mounted four attacks on Greene’s thin blue line. Aided by the rugged terrain in their front, the regiments on the upper hill beat back their attackers, the rebels suffering great losses.

            Steuart’s brigade, attacking the thin line of Ireland’s 137th New York stretched across  the saddle and  lower hill, found empty trenches on their left, moved in, and shifted north, firing into the flank of Ireland’s right company. Col. Ireland ordered the company to “refuse flank”, turning to form a line facing the rebel attack from the abandoned trenches.

Then Steuart’s left-most regiment discovered a low stone wall running west, Using it as cover, the rebels moved behind Ireland’s positions. Now the 137th was being attacked by rebels in the front, right flank, and rear. They stood like a finger pushed into the rebel mass. A regiment was finally sent to reinforce them. But when their commander realized the great danger of this untenable position, he ordered his men back. The 137th would have to deal with the situation alone. Ireland and his men were up to the challenge. He ordered a wheel right maneuver, and the entire regiment shifted to face south, firing as they went, moving back up the slope of the upper hill to the traverse Greene had built with such great foresight. Ireland’s men executed this difficult maneuver skillfully and effectively, in the dark and under fire. Now, with defensible position at the traverse, the 137th dug in and held, but not before Lt. Gregg led a squad out on a brave bayonet charge to eliminate a particularly troublesome rebel position at the stone wall. Gregg would lose his life. Of the 400 effectives in the 137th, 40 would die, and 120 more were wounded. Though greatly outnumbered, the 137th had not broken, but had managed to hold the right flank of Greene’s brigade secure. Despite Steuart’s overnight lodgement on the lower hill, the high ground had been denied them. The rebel attack had failed.

Regrettably, even the residents of Binghamton and Ithaca are unaware of their regiment’s brave stand at Gettysburg. There are many reasons for this relative obscurity, stretching over the 140 years since that magnificent effort.

At the time of the battle, there were few if any journalists or foreign observers to see or record what took place on July 2 at Culp’s Hill. The action occurred at night – a rarity in the Civil War, and the light of the full moon barely penetrated through the leafy tall trees on those wooded slopes. After-action accounts by the corps commander, Gen. Henry Slocum, virtually ignored the prowess of his subordinates Greene and Ireland. Of course, he wasn’t on the scene. And Slocum would hardly have wanted to publicize the result of his stripping the hill’s defenses of all but one brigade just as Johnson’s Division was attacking. That could have easily led to disaster, absent the bold maneuvering of Col. Ireland. Likewise, Confederate Gen. Allegheny Johnson’s report did not want to highlight the failure of his entire division to overrun a single brigade of New Yorkers, instead highlighting his men’s occupation of the vacant trenches on the lower hill that night. Gen. Greene’s and Col. Ireland’s reports told the facts, from which any reader can appreciate the importance of the New Yorker’s brave and successful defense that night. But Ireland would die of dysentery in Georgia in the summer of 1864. Unlike Joshua Chamberlain at Little Round Top, David Ireland would be given no recognition, no Medal of Honor for his crucial effort at Culp’s Hill. He would not live to give speeches, to write memoirs, to publicize the bravery of his regiment. He is truly the silent hero.

In our own time, Col. Ireland and the 137th New York continue to be little recognized. No novels have yet been published to dramatize them, no movies made, no spectacular public reenactments honor their achievement. Most historians have ignored them, giving at best a passing comment on Greene’s defense as a minor sidelight. Perhaps this is beginning to change, as historians like R.L. Murray and James McPherson highlight the importance of what the 137th accomplished that night. The author has recently observed a battlefield guide praising the New Yorkers’ significance to a group gathered before the Culp’s Hill monument to the 137th New York.

What can be done, 140 years later, to shine a bright beam of recognition, to catch the eye of the public, to right this wrong, to honor this crucial achievement? I wish we could all write letters with enough persuasion, to have Ireland awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor. Still, those of us who have taken the time to dig into the real history of the battle should try to educate our friends. We should be taking every opportunity to publicize the heroism these New Yorkers showed that night in saving the Union right flank from collapse.

This author is attempting to advance the recognition of the 137th NY, , by making the action at Culp’s Hill a key element in his novel, War and Redemption, slated to be released in the summer of 2004. In the novel, a fictional Luke Kellogg, a farm boy from the Finger Lakes, joins the 137th New York in Binghamton at its formation in September of 1862. Luke survives the disease-ridden camp at Bolivar Heights, the winter  at Aquia Creek, the battle of Chancellorsville, and the rigors of the hard march to Gettysburg. At Culp’s Hill he uses his timbering skill to build breastworks. As a skirmisher with Redington, he uses his hunter’s skill to slow the Rebel advance across Rock Creek. Tumbling back over the breastworks, he rejoins his company in holding off Steuart’s Virginians.

Twenty years later Luke and his comrades return to Gettysburg for a reunion, and reminisce about the experiences of that night, indelibly imprinted in their memory. The author’s fictional plot revolves around Luke and his confrontations with two Virginia cavalrymen at Harpers Ferry, then at Rock Creek after the fighting on the 3rd of July, and then after the war. But a reader of War and Redemption will come to realize the crucial contribution of Col. David Ireland and the men of the 137th during that desperate night fight at Culp’s Hill.

The author hopes that Civil War buffs will pass the word, to help create wider appreciation for the courage and sacrifice of the brave defenders of Culp’s Hill. Of course, a movie would sure help!

 

A long-time resident of Binghamton, NY, David Cleutz  is a native Pennsylvanian. Born in Chambersburg, he grew up in Mercersburg , his family deeply rooted in Gettysburg and Hanover. His great-grandparents were direct observers of the battle of Gettysburg – Liberty Hollinger in Gettysburg, Samuel Forney in Hanover, and Jacob Hartman on the Littlestown road.
A veteran of the U.S. Army, Cleutz holds a B.S. and an M.S. from Case Western Reserve University and an M.B.A. from Binghamton University. He writes from the circa 1870 farmhouse overlooking the Susquehanna River in Binghamton, where he lives with his wife, Terry. Mr. Cleutz is the author of the Civil War novel War And Redemption
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