One American who made the ultimate sacrifice in the Wheatfield was Colonel Edward Everett Cross. The commander of a small brigade in the Second Corps of the Army of the Potomac, Cross is remembered for the premonitions he had of his own death. These premonitions that he was to fall came brutally true when a Confederate soldier shot him in the abdomen as he led his brigade from Rose Woods into the maelstrom of shot and shell that was the confusing and complex battle of the Wheatfield.
Colonel Edward Cross was born on April 22, 1832, in the town of Lancaster, New Hampshire. Two of his brothers, Richard and Nelson, saw service with the Union Army. Young Cross was apprenticed as a printer at age 15. He served for some time as a newspaperman and editor. He lived in Cincinnati for a time, where his brother Nelson served as a judge, and later in Arizona. He fought two duels during his time as an editor over his opinions, but obviously he was not killed in any of these. Eventually, he gave up on the newspaper business, and joined the Mexican Army. When he received news of Fort Sumter, he resigned his Mexican Army commission and returned home to New Hampshire. There, Governor Berry appointed him as Colonel of the 5th Regiment, New Hampshire Volunteers. The Fifth New Hampshire was mustered in on October 28, 1861, and left for Washington the next day with 1,200 members.
One of Cross's first acts as colonel was the very unusual, but very valuable, step of establishing a school of sorts for training his officers and non commissioned officers. This act, coupled with his careful drilling of the men, ensured that the 5th would be prepared when the time for battle came. Cross was a strict disciplinarian. When the 148th Pennsylvania was later added to his brigade, the men of the 148th considered Cross something of a tyrant. Cross was also quick to jump to conclusions, and was by nature highly critical. Some of his friends claimed that this coupled with his outspokenness on political matters caused his advancement in the army to be slowed.
Cross was, physically, an imposing man. He rode tall, erect, straight as an arrow, according to an aide who knew him well and put down his reflections of Cross, Charles Hale. He had a full and tawny beard. In battle, he was impressive. Constantly, over and over again, he is referred to in the Official Records by his superiors as gallant under fire.
Cross and his regiment first saw action on March 13, 1862, at Rappahanock Station. This was the only engagement in which the Fifth suffered no losses in combat. The regiment was hereafter referred to as the "Bloodless Fifth." This is quite ironic considering that the when Fox compiled the losses of all regiments, the "Bloodless Fifth" topped the list. Of the Fifth, Fox stated:
The one regiment, in all the Union Armies, which sustained the greatest loss in battle, during the American Civil War, was the Fifth New Hampshire Infantry. It lost 295 men, killed or mortally wounded in action, during its four years of service, from 1861 to 1865. It served in the First Division, Second Corps. This division was commanded, successively, by Generals Richardson, Hancock, Caldwell, Barlow, and Miles; and any regiment that followed the fortunes of these men was sure to find plenty of bloody work cut out for it. The losses of the Fifth New Hampshire occurred entirely in aggressive, hard, stand-up fighting; none of it happened in routs or through blunders. Its loss includes eighteen officers killed, a number far in excess of the usual proportion, and indicates that the men were bravely led. Its percentage of killed is also very large, especially as based on the original enrollment.
The first major action the Fifth saw was at Fair Oaks, June 1, 1862, during McClellan's peninsula Campaign. Here, Cross and 170 other men were wounded, and 30 members of the regiment were killed. Cross was struck through the thigh by a bullet and wounded in the left side of his face by buckshot. All told, seven bullets struck Cross or his clothing, evidence that he was in the fight with his regiment. Later, General French would "mention the admirable coolness and conduct of Colonel Cross, commanding the Fifth New Hampshire."
The Fifth saw more action during the Peninsula Campaign and the Seven Days battles at Savage Station, White Oak Swamp, and Malvern Hill. The next large battle the regiment would distinguish itself in was the battle of Antietam on September 17, 1862, fought around the town of Sharpsburg, Maryland. At Antietam, the Fifth was involved in the actions for the Bloody Lane or Sunken Road. Here, Cross distinguished himself yet again. Thomas Livermore, then a junior officer in the regiment, remembered his Colonel:
As the fight grew furious the Colonel cried out "Put on the war paint!" and looking around I saw the glorious man standing erect with a red handkerchief, a conspicuous mark, tied around his bare head..Taking the cue somehow we rubbed the torn ends of cartridges over our faces, streaking them with powder like a pack of Indians and Col. to complete the similarity cried out, "Give 'em the war whoop" and all of us joined him in the Indian war whoop until it must have rung out amid the thunder of the ordinance."
Cross was slightly wounded in the scalp during the battle. The losses for September 17, 1862, were seven killed and one hundred and twenty wounded out of three hundred and nineteen present for duty. Again, the Fifth and its Colonel had proven their gallantry. In his report for the brigade, John Caldwell cited "Colonel Cross, of the Fifth New Hampshire Volunteers, handled his regiment in the most admirable manner, and is entitled to the sole credit of detecting and frustrating the attempt of the enemy to turn our left flank. He displayed in a high degree all the qualities of a good commander--bravery, readiness, coolness, and skill."
November would see the removal of McClellan. Of McClellan, Cross penned in his journal, "Here we have heard the removal of McClellan from command of the army at this time an ill-advised operation. We were going on well, and two days would have brought us to the enemy...He carried the hearts of the army with him." McClellan was replaced by Ambrose Burnside, a genial man, but a man not fitted to command of the Army of the Potomac, something no one knew better than Burnside himself.
On December 13, 1862, Burnside threw his troops against the impossible position held by Lee at Fredericksburg. Among those in the battle was the Second Corps and the Fifth New Hampshire with Cross at the helm. Cross remembered,
I went to my regiment, counted my files, and found that I had two-hundred and forty-nine rifles and nineteen officers -- line, field and staff. I passed along the line and spoke to the officers and men; told them it twas to be a bloody strife, to stand firm, and fire low; to close on their colors and be steady. I told the officers, I said that they were expected to do their duty. Then I placed myself at the head of my men and we started, following the Irish Brigade.
The Second Corps and the Army of the Potomac took a drumming at Fredericksburg. The Fifth New Hampshire ended up facing the infamous stonewall at Mayre's Heights. In the action, Cross was wounded again in the face and in the chest by shrapnel. He stated: "I tried to get to my feet but could not stand...I concluded to lie still, and lay there for more than an hour in expectation of instant death or a mortal wound." Cross probably should not have even been in the battle. His brigade commander, Caldwell, stated: "Colonel Cross, at the time of the action, was suffering from an attack of chills and fever, which would have laid most men on their beds. He did not hesitate, however, to lead his noble regiment into battle, and was struck down, severely wounded, while at the head of his regiment, bravely leading his men forward."
As Cross lay wounded, his regiment desperately tried to assault the Confederate position. Any person who doubts the bravery of the Union soldier has only to view the bravery of the men who threw themselves against Mayre's Heights. The next morning, seventy soldiers answered roll for the Fifth. Colonel John Brooke would later state "that the bodies found nearest the "stone wall" were those of the Sixty-ninth New York, Fifth New Hampshire, and Fifty-third Pennsylvania."
Cross was minorly engaged in the battle of Chancellorsville, commanding a demi brigade. It would be, however, the next, and what would prove to be his last action that would leave his name on the immortal scrolls of fame.
During the Gettysburg campaign, Cross began having premonitions of his death. Lieutenant Hale, who considered himself close to the Colonel remembered:
The Colonel evidently had a strong premonition of his death. It did not seem to effect him much, in fact it effected me more than it did himself for I was then only a smooth-faced boy of nineteen, while he was a long bearded man of thirty-one, but having been more or less in contact with him from the time the regiment was organized, I had come to know him intimately and understood something of his moods.
As the Gettysburg campaign progressed, Cross seems to have been a moody man. On Sunday morning the 28th, Hale remembered:
Captain Butler rode on the Colonel's right and myself on the left, but I was taking little part in the conversation that was mainly on matters pertaining to the regiment. He told Butler about the magnificent sword, spurs and watch that had been presented to him at Falmouth, a testimonial from the officers of his regiment expressing the sentiment of an injunction uttered by Captain Perry as he lay dying amidst the slaughter of Fredericksburg. As he spoke of the matter in a pleased animated way, I saw that the colonel had been touched and gratified by this evidence of esteem from his loyal followers.
Finally, the conversation turned on the impending struggle that we were hastening forward to, and at last the Colonel said, It will be my last battle." He used the words in a grave decided way, and it gave me a shock, and also a feeling of resentment that he should speak in that manner; then I recalled to myself that in the last day or so he had at times seemed in a sort of abstracted mood that was not usual with him.
At last he said to me;"Mr. Hale, I wish you to attend to my books and papers; that private box of mine in the headquarters wagon; you helped me re-pack it the other day. After the campaign is over, get it at once, dry the contents if damp, and then turn it over to my brother Richard."
Richard served as a major in the 5th New Hampshire. Cross's brother Nelson was the skipper of the 67th New York of the Sixth Corps. Both brothers would survive the Civil War.
Once again on the 29th, Cross spoke of feelings that this would be his last battle. This again bothered young Hale, and the friendly relations between the two were strained. On July 1, Cross spoke nothing at all of his premonition. However, Hale remembered that on July 2,
...Soon after we had take up the line of march and were rapidly approaching the battle field, he said to me in a grave, firm, way, Mr. Hale:-attend to that box of mine at the first opportunity; that was all, but it convinced me that he was in dead earnest and had firm conviction of impending fate.
Cross's feelings of his impending doom are difficult to deal with. Certainly, he was no coward. John B. Gordon in his Reminiscences of the Civil War stated many cases including his own brother and General Stephen Dodson Ramseur as men of sound mind who had some sort of premonition of their own demise. In fact, the Civil War is filled with accounts of men who had some sort of inkling of what was to come. What brought these views into the future are beyond this authors capacities. Perhaps, though, as Gordon stated, this was indeed evidence of a Superior Being, and that there is something beyond this life.
As the day progressed, Cross had another change of mood. He walked among the men, giving them the pep talk: "Boys, you know what's before you. Give 'em hell!" Hale remembered that Cross walked off with Colonel McKeen of the 81st Pennsylvania,
Taking McKeen's arm they walked a little ways apart, both heads bent in earnest conversation. Colonel McKeen of the eighty-first Pennsylvania was a younger man but just such another gallant fighter as Cross, and while commanding a brigade he fell in just the same way on the field of Cold Harbor nearly a year later; here he was next in rank to Colonel Cross of the commanders present. After walking a little ways they stopped, grasped hands a moment, then turned and walked back, to where we were standing, Cross saying to the little group who where intently watching them, Gentlemen: - Colonel McKeen will command the one hundred and forty-eighth Pennsylvania to- day; before night he will probably be commanding the brigade."
McKeen would never comment on this, he was as Hale stated, mortally wounded at the debacle at Cold Harbor, shot so badly that he begged his adjutant to finish what a Confederate bullet had so horribly begun. Cross's move placing McKeen in command of the 148th was a prudent one; however, it was a move the men of the 148th never forgave him for doing.
Caldwell's division would be held in reserve until around 4:30. The wait was a trying one for some. Hale remembered that:
The distressing impression of the previous days were now deepening(sic) on my mind; my commander whom(sic) I revered had been talking as though his death warrant was signed, but apparently he was little concerned. As would be natural, there had been considerable comment and discussion among the members of the staff as to what the Colonel had said, much of it having been directed at me as I was nearer to him than the rest.
Whatever Cross's feelings, he did things no different at Gettysburg than he did anywhere else. Laughingly, he called out to Livermore, who was now commanding the Second Corps ambulances, "We shan't want any of your death carts today!" He led as usual from the front. As the afternoon progressed, Cross drew out his handkerchief, as usual, but as Hale relates,
The Colonel had for some time been walking back and forth in his quick nervous way, his hands clasped behind his back, a habit that was usual with him. Presently, stopping short where I was standing, he drew out from an inside pocket a large new black silk handkerchief; arrainging(sic) it in folds on his lifted knee, then handing me his hat to hold, he quickly swathed his head with it in turban fashion, tying the two ends behind. We had seen him do this on other fields with a red bandanna and it then amused me somewhat, but under the peculiar circumstances of the few days previous that black handkerchief was appalling. Again he took off his hat, saying "please tie it tighter Mr. Hale"; my hands were trembling as I picked at the knot; "draw it tighter still" he said impatiently, and finally I adjusted it to suit him
Perhaps noting this, General Hancock, commanding the corps, commented, to Cross, "Colonel Cross this day will bring you a star." Cross shook his head in a grave manner and responded quite simply, "No General, this is my last battle."
The fighting for the Wheatfield had already been hot before the arrival of Caldwell's division. De Trobriand's brigade of Sickle's Third Corps along with Sweitzer's and Tilton's brigades of Barnes' division of the Fifth Corps had been going at it for sometime with Anderson's Georgians. Also on the scene was Kershaw's brigade of South Carolinians. Into this heated fray, entered Caldwell's division, headed by Colonel Cross and his brigade.
Unfortunately for Cross, his, like John Reynolds, actions in his last battle were far too brief. Upon leading his men into Rose Woods, Hale relates the confusing action,
I was trying to ride in near the Colonel in order to be ready for the first message and heard the Aide say something about General Sykes; then I heard him shout as his horse gave a plunge:--"THE ENEMY IS BREAKING IN DIRECTLY ON YOUR RIGHT:--STRIKE HIM QUICK:-- The Colonel suddenly wheeled his horse and spurring him back along the right of the line as it was coming was shouting an unusual and unexpected order :---BY THE RIGHT FLANK: MARCH:--- Of course there was instant confusion, for it brought the line of battle facing by the rear rank, with the file-closers pushing and crowding through, but in less than ten seconds the line was clear of the timber, and crossing the road, was advancing us steadily into the wheatfield as though on parade.
As we emerged from the woods into the open ground, the bullets from the enemy's skirmishers came buzzing around like bees and we could see the puffs of smoke from their rifles in every direction, showing that we were about to encounter a heavy force. The line was moving up a slight rise of ground in front, and here we all dismounted giving the horse's(sic) in charge of the orderlies. Just as the heads of the men in the ranks cleared the crest of the rise, the enemy posted in the edge of the woods, down back of the stone wall on the south side of the field at once opened on us, and halting just on the crest our line opened fire in return.
This was all done without a halt, and without the loss of a minute in maneuvering; the entire brigade moved with the mobility of a single battalion; four regiments; closed intervals; four sets of field officers; an aggregate strength of about one thousand. Just in the nick of time it was hurled against the enemy, and it struck a tremendous blow. That was the very way the brigades of the first division had been trained to fight.
The wheat had been trampled into the dirt by line after line before we came. Lying flat on the ground, firing at us over the crest as we advanced, was a line of the enemy's skirmishers, but we moved up so quickly they could not get back, and jumping up from the ground they rushed back through our line. "Get a file of men for a guard and hold them Mr. Hale," shouted the Colonel; "look sharp, there's more in the edge of the woods by the wall; there's an officer;--get his sword." As I ran towards him, he laid the blade on the ground under his foot, broke it short at the guard, and scornfully flung the hilt on the ground before me. Colonel McKeen saw the situation and sent me a Sergeant and two men from his line, and we soon had twenty Johnny's corralled back of a little sassafrass thicket growing around an outcropping ledge that is still on the field to this day.
I saw Colonel Cross standing among the men in line, and eagerly scanning the ground in front. Our l line was well warmed up, and the enemy along the edge of the woods by the wall below were getting all the hot lead they wanted. But we were catching it hot also, for wounded men were staggering back to the rear, and the dead were getting thick along the ground.
Stepping hastily back the Colonel said, and it was the only time that I ever heard him use a familiar term to subordinate officers while on duty, "Boys:- instruct the commanders to be ready to charge when the order is given; wait here for the command, or, if you hear the bugles of the Fifth New Hampshire on the left, move forward on the run." Then he strode alone into the woods where the r ight-wing of the one hundred and forty-eighth Pennsylvania and the Fifth New Hampshire, to judge by the sound were tearing things all to pieces. Standing by my prisoners, I looked after him sort of regretfully as he vanished among the trees, and---it was the last glimpse; he never came back, for in less than five minutes he had a mortal wound right there in the woods near by his own regiment, and we who were anxiously waiting for him on the right never knew of it.
Cross never had a chance to advance his brigade. As he stood in the rear of the line of the 5th New Hampshire, where the monument to the regimental marker now stands, he was shot in the abdomen by a musket ball that struck him in the navel and exited near the spine. The Confederate sniper who brought Cross down had hidden behind a ten foot cleft rock still visible at Gettysburg about forty five yards from where Cross fell. Lt. Col. Hapgood, commanding the Fifth New Hampshire, ordered Sergeant Charles Phelps to shoot the sniper.
From behind this rock, the sniper who shot Colonel Cross hid.
Phelps shot rang true, but Phelps would be one of 27 men killed in the "Bloodless Fifth" this fateful day. Hale lamented the loss of his chief, "The tawny-bearded, lion-hearted commander who in the morning and at noon was pacing the ground so restlessly, had been carried back from the blazing front line where he had fallen, and was suffering untold agonies from a bullet wound through the body that was mortal."
Cross was carried to a field hospital behind Culp's Hill where the regimental surgeons, including Dr. Child who would later write the history of the regiment, did their best for him, trying to make him comfortable on a bed of sheaves of wheat. Many members of the regiment came to speak to him. Cross, conscious throughout this final struggle, died shortly after midnight July 3. His last words were recorded as "I wished that I would live to see the rebellion suppressed and peace restored...I think the boys will miss me. Say good-bye to all."
Livermore remembered the fallen commander,
He was a brave man and clear headed in a fight; he took the most excellent care of his men in a sanitary way and was a good disciplinarian. He taught us by rough measures, to be sure, that the implicit obedience to orders was one of the cardinal virtues in a soldier. He taught us to ignore the idea of retreating. Beside this he clothed and fed us well, taught us to build good quarters and camped us on good ground and in short did everything well to keep us well drilled and always ready to meet the enemy.
A soldier could not want a better epithet.
Hale would record a final eulogy that appeared in his old newspaper in Cincinnati that befits the red bearded and tough commander,
Foremost on the fiery battle-lines in front of the hills that evening fell our Ed. E. Cross, Colonel of the Fifth New Hampshire Volunteers, formerly City Editor of the "Times."---He died unpromoted, a lasting disgrace to the Washington people who slighted him after his valor on the battlefields in Virginia and Maryland.----But the faded eagles on his shoulders will shine with greater luster in the history of that mighty conflict, than though he had borne the insignia of his merited rank, the stars of a Major General.
Cross never did get a death bed star like Colonel Strong Vincent did.
However, the redbearded commander from the 5th New Hampshire embodied much of the fighting spirit of the Army of the Potomac, an Army of strong willed and brave men in the lower ranks like Cross who, when given a chance by their generals, proved their mettle and far more
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Rest In Peace, Colonel Cross.....