Alfred Iverson, Jr., Confederate States Army General- Public Domain
“Iverson’s dead lay thick… locals say they hear cries at night.”
—Pvt. John H. Harris, 12th Pennsylvania Reserves, July 5, 1863 (Library of Congress MSS)
July 1, 1863, Gettysburg’s first day dawns humid and grim. Confederate Brigadier General Alfred Iverson Jr., 40, Georgia-born, a name soon cursed, leads roughly 1,350 North Carolinians of his brigade, the 5th, 12th, 20th, and 23rd Regiments, toward Oak Ridge, a low rise north of town. Major General Robert Rodes, Iverson’s superior, orders a noon push to flank Union Brigadier General John Robinson’s 2nd Division, approximately 1,600 men entrenched along the ridge (Gettysburg: The First Day, Pfanz, 2001). Iverson receives his orders to charge, but he proves no knight. At 1:00 PM, he sends his men straight across John Forney’s open field, 800 yards, no reconnaissance, no support, while he lingers behind a rise, safe (Pfanz, p. 196-198).
Union troops, the 6th and 12th Pennsylvania Reserves, numbering about 450 rifles, wait behind a stone wall. Lt. Col. John Baxter’s trap is primed (NPS Oak Ridge). Iverson’s line, spaced 20 paces apart, marches blindly into slaughter. At 200 yards, Baxter’s volleys erupt. Minié balls tear through. Five hundred North Carolinians fall within ten minutes, “like wheat before a scythe,” Pvt. John Harris of the 12th Pennsylvania writes (LOC MSS). “They fell in straight rows,” Cpl. Samuel Clear of the 88th Pennsylvania notes, nearly 70 percent of Iverson’s brigade, 500 dead, 300 wounded. Pits gape where their bodies lie (Gettysburg, Sears, 2003, p. 196). Iverson, still sheltered, claims he saw Union troops retreat. Rodes finds him “prostrated” by 2:00 PM, useless (Pfanz, p. 202). His men rot until July 4. Locals and Union soldiers bury them shallow. Forney’s field becomes a grave (NPS).
Days later, eerie whispers stir. “Locals say they hear cries at night,” Harris pens on July 5, the pits moan under moonlight (LOC). On July 12, the Gettysburg Compiler reports, “Forney’s field—pits of dead—strange sounds.” Farmers shun the ground (Compiler Archive). Weeks later, August 2, “Lights flicker over Iverson’s graves,” locals note, white forms drift above the sunken earth, they claim (HistoryNet, 2013). Cpl. Clear, on July 6, writes, “Farmers will not plow near those places… they talk of lights moving” (LOC). No muster roll logs spirits, just raw dread from men and farmers who witnessed too much (American Battlefield Trust Edu).
By the 1870s, the pits sink. Wheat grows tall where 500 lie. Bodies are exhumed and sent South, yet the tales persist (NPS History). Iverson sent them to die. Facts cut sharp: no reconnaissance, no leadership. Rodes damns him (Pfanz, p. 205). Gettysburg’s toll, 51,000 casualties, including 8,000 to 10,000 dead, 500 claimed here on the first day, their echoes forever etched in soldiers’ ink and farmers’ fear (Gettysburg, Sears, 2003, p. 498).
Did courage or a curse leave those haunting cries? You decide—sound off below.
Join me—history’s echoes, faith’s sparks, mysteries uncharted. What’s your battle?
Sources & Further Reading:
- Gettysburg: The First Day by Harry W. Pfanz- https://amzn.to/4ib6mIq
- Gettysburg by Stephen W. Sears- https://amzn.to/4hZUQzM
- Civil War Letters (Library of Congress)