William N. Pendleton. Unfortunately for the Confederate cause, Pendleton was a first-rate organizer and administrator but a very defective field commander, and at Gettysburg he let the separate units fight their own fight. Lee was outgunned at Gettysburg, but he never made full use of the guns he had. His chief of artillery just was not up to it.

Organization on the Union side was different. The Unionists grouped their batteries in brigades, each of which was somewhat larger than the Confederate battalion, and allotted one brigade to an army corps, with a substantial residue in reserve under the control of army headquarters. Artillery chief was Brigadier General Henry J. Hunt, whose authority was supposed to be limited to administrative matters but who actually stepped out and commanded all of the guns—to the extent to which the corps commanders would permit. Hunt, indeed, emerges as one of the great men of the battle. The Unionists not only had the advantage in weight of metal; they also had a better gunner in charge, and their guns were used much more effectively than were those of the Confederates. No subordinate gave Meade better service than Hunt gave him at Gettysburg.

To Mr. Downey, the story of Gettysburg is the story of the guns, and he tells it very well indeed, from the moment when the Federals’ horse artillery opened on the advancing Confederate infantry on the morning of July i, down to the afternoon of July 3 when massed cannon ripped Pickett’s charge apart and kept the Confederates from getting decisive numbers up to the crest of Cemetery Ridge. There were a few times when the guns actually held the balance of power. On the afternoon of July 2, for instance, when Federal infantry had been driven from Sickles’ poorly chosen advance position, nothing but the tremendous effort of a few batteries kept the Confederates from overrunning Cemetery Ridge during the crucial half-hour that Meade spent in bringing up his reserves. It is quite possible, too, that Pickett’s assault on the final day would have succeeded if Union artillery had not pounded the assaulting column so hard before it got within musket range.

On the Confederate side, the failure of the artillery is manifest. Lee did open a thunderous cannonade to prepare the way for Pickett’s charge; but Mr. Downey insists on calling attention to the vast number of Confederate guns which did not fire a shot in this cannonade, although it would have been quite possible for Pendleton to arrange them in such a way as to take Cemetery Hill and the area immediately south of it under a devastating cross fire. The guns that did get into action fired, uniformly, just a little high. The supposedly safe rear slope of Cemetery Ridge was thoroughly plastered with shells during the bombardment, to the intense discomfort of the behind-the-lines details, but the point of attack itself came through with only minor damage. In addition, when Pickett’s infantry did

advance, the artillery support that was supposed to advance with it was lacking, due to some administrative blunder at headquarters. Valiant as it was, Lee’s artillery failed him at Gettysburg. The Federals not only had more gun power, but they used what they had far more effectively.

When we look at Gettysburg we see, usually, the infantry—which, Heaven knows, is worth looking at. The guns are worth looking at too, and here, for the first time, is a studious analysis of just how they were used and what they accomplished. Treat Gettysburg as victory or as defeat, by your own choice; it does help to know what the technicians were doing.