44th Georgia Company C, 2023 Events

I offer this report to catalog movements of the 44thGeorgia at the Daniel Lady Farm in Gettysburg commemorating the 160th anniversary of the Great Battle on June 30, July 1 and July 2.

Once there, we formed with other units of the 2nd Battalion to make a strong showing of Confederates at the event. As usual, we were vastly outnumbered by Union troops, but nevertheless it did not dissuade us from taking an aggressive stance in our offensive strategy -- Our goal being to occupy this critical railroad and communication juncture, eliminate the Army of the Potomac as an effective force, and open the road to capturing the Union capital, Washington D.C.

We arrived on Thursday evening the 29th of June setting up our camp with hopes high for the success of our endeavor. Our camp was situated to the extreme east of the farm sheltered behind a line of trees and well beyond the view of Yankees and any visitors. It was almost as if the event organizers wanted to keep us secluded and well away from inquiring visitors who may ask questions about who we were and why we were there. Nonetheless, we were all in good spirits and anxious to get to the Yankees the next day.

We were well represented with a larger than usual contingent of troops. In addition to Capt. Art M., on hand were 1st Sgt. Rick S., 2nd Sgt. Ken D., 2nd Cpl. Jim M., Pvt. Ben L. and Yours Truly. Fortunately for the unit, the Downey Family was very well represented bringing three rifles to the battle via Pvts. Paul, Kevin, and Brandon. Interestingly, troops from other units who found themselves separated made the march to Gettysburg and fell in with the 44th. They included Pvts. James O., Randy and Damian.

Friday June 30th started peacefully with some morning sunshine and later gave way to cloudiness. Colonel Tony ordered a drill at midmorning. The battalion appeared rather rusty not having drilled together for quite some time. It took some redoing and repeating before the unit started to click and move in a unified direction, but by noon we were anxious to get to the Yankees. Camp was tidy and soon by early afternoon our gear was stored, and all remnants of morning breakfast was cleaned. A few of the boys had ventured into town to check out what the settlers offered. The first call came around 3:00 o'clock .We put on our gear and we're ready to move out.

The Battalion formed on the side of the road and in formation we checked our muskets and squeezed every bit of rounds we could into our leathers and pouches. Capt. Art issued each man a bottle of water supplementing the contents of our canteens knowing that we would be in shadeless fields and away from our camp for quite some time. We marched in a clandestine route that took us past visitors where we formed a battle line behind a fence row, and there we were to wait. Our position was in a swale, unable to see what was going on beyond the rise in front of us. But soon we could make out the glint of steel from the enemy’s bayonets emerging from the cover of a tree line. No sooner had the Yankee pickets and what appeared to be a regiment positioned themselves in our front when our artillery opened up with a vicious volley. This was answered by the Union artillery equally as ambitious. The exchange lasted for a good 20 minutes. Meanwhile, we were ordered to unstack our arms and be ready to move forward. The Colonel led us forward in stages so that we could position ourselves in response to the growing number of Yankees emerging from the woods, pausing to fire and reloading on the march. After the first wave of fierce firing, the Yankees moved forward from the stone fence from which they secured themselves and marched to meet us on the sloping field.

We marched down the road in our column of fours and tore down a fence impediment. Rather than be stacked up and vulnerable to continued enemy fire, the Captain made us perform a distinctive maneuver as each rank in our column let off a volley as it approached the point in the road where the disassembled fence lay, and then split and hustled to the rear allowing the next rank to step up in the breach and do the same. This technique baffled the Union line as the troops in their flank could not adequately aim to the extreme oblique to be effective.

This bought valuable time for other brigades to move on our left and threaten the enemy’s very own flank.
Our firing continued so fiercely that the barrels of our muskets were too hot to touch, forcing many of the boys to wrap strips of leather or handkerchiefs around the barrel and grips to keep our hands from blistering. Still, we kept up a steady fire. Eventually, our fire and that of our advancing lines on the left took its toll on the Yankees. They had no choice but to fall back to the safety of the tree line. But we would not let up as we continued to push them through the town to the hills beyond.

Running short of ammunition and beyond the protection of our cannons we paused in our advance and were soon ordered back into camp where the commanders could huddle and plot how to continue our attack tomorrow.

Back in camp Pvt. Ben had served up a very tasty Cajun style rabbit stew accompanied with cornbread and pickles. After we cooled down, we spent the early evening cleaning muskets, restocking our ammunition and getting ready for tomorrow's battle.

We spent the evening quietly with our focus on cold drinks and cigars. The talk in camp was low key as the day’s heat and fighting led many of the boys to their tents early for sleep.

Saturday morning July the First started early for the unit, as the boys were working hard to get the sleep out of their eyes and get adjusted to the new day. After a leisurely breakfast of our traditional eggs, bacon, and a variety of breads and grits we policed the camp and got ready for the battle that lay ahead. By mid-morning the Colonel called us for another drill in the field. This time we were much more attuned to the movements that possibly would be required of us in the heat of battle. By afternoon more boys had ventured into town in search of other kinds of provender. In camp, most of the time was spent creating more rounds and ensuring that our muskets were in working order. We spent the early afternoon nourishing ourselves with cool water and staying in the shade beneath the company fly hoping to pick up tidbits or rumors of our upcoming engagement with the enemy.

The first call came around 3:30. Again we formed on the road next to our camp and were soon on our way, determined to push the Yankees out of Gettysburg. We came out of our camp into the open field to see the Yankees already deployed along a battle line in what was a wheat field. Their lines were extensive and far more numerous than we had imagined. But this did not deter us in the least because we were anxious to move them. With some snappy maneuvering moving from a column of fours into a battle line, we stretched our lines as strategically as possible in order to begin our push. Again, the firing was blistering. The Colonel moved us across the battlefield in a host of formations as we attempted to outmaneuver the Yankees on their flank. We found a spot that was agreeable to continue a prolonged and withering fire on the enemy. We let loose our muskets on them from practically every known firing position -- firing by battalion, firing by company, firing by the right and left obliques, firing by files, by front rank, by rear rank, on and on we kept up the volleys. So much so was our continued firing that again the barrels of our muskets could not be handled without searing skin.

We marched forward, but were pushed back, then again, we advanced to retake our position all the while loading and firing on the march. We could not move them, nor could they dispel us. The two lines seemed to glare at each other, but no advantage seemed achievable by either side. Seeing the folly of continuing the combat, precipitating even further effusion of blood, the Colonel redeployed our lines to a safer distance to observe the enemy’s further movements. But like us, they too spent nearly all their ammunition and were exhausted. Our commanders were left with no choice other than to turn back to camp, refit our units, restock our ammunition and contemplate what the next day would bring.

After a bit of a rest the boys turned out for supper. 2nd Sergeant Ken cooked up a rather zesty chili with rice provided by Pvt. Ben. This was accompanied by a variety of corn muffins, an assortment of breads and corn on the cob. As is our want, the 44th Georgia is known to eat well.

The evening passed leisurely, the boys doing their best to replenish fluids and debrief all on the activities of the day. As night fell, we circled round the company fly and with lanterns and candles we speculated on how we would drive the Yankees out tomorrow all the while continuing to replenish ourselves with fluids from a host of descriptive and non-descript bottles. The conversation spanned a variety of topics ranging from our faulty drilling performance, to improved military tactics, to disgust with political scoundrels, and eventually to observations of the fairer sex, which as such, are unfit for younger eyes that might be reading this. The chatter continued well into the night, and having formed a brilliant military strategy for tomorrow, as well as solving the panoply of historical blunders in civilization, we eventually one-by-one retired for the evening.

Sunday morning was fuzzy. By that I mean humidity had increased and only a heated sun could burn off the heavy dew and lingering mist. The boys were given some latitude for the time we could begin our day. It wasn't until later in the morning resources were fit all around to commence with breakfast. Again we began with our standard victuals of bacon, eggs, breads and other treats. But here I must make one remark. As you may be aware, I have not been reporting much about the quality of grits that have been provided to the unit. I will mention that during this campaign the grits had been unusually nonchalant, or dare I say quite compliant, whereas in previous campaigns, cooking the grits to the proper consistency required a full throttled effort to extinguish what sometimes seemed a near rebellion in the pot. But this day the grits were on the boil calmly when a trooper from a nearby Texas unit sashayed by and said, “I see you have the blue bucket and you're making the those 44th Georgia grits.” I was taken aback to discover the grits have a growing reputation throughout the Battalion. Of course, a reputation can go in either direction.

By midday, the clouds took turns raining slightly, but by around half-past one o’clock, we were given the order for first call. Having been reduced by casualties the previous two days, the remnants of the 44thfell into line, determined with our Battalion colleagues to eject the enemy from their entrenchments and open the road to Washington, D.C. For the third time in three days, we marched through camp and into an open field ready to meet the enemy face to face, man to man. We were positioned on the extreme right flank of our core. Our job was to engage the enemy, force them to move men and material to defend this vulnerable spot while the rest of the core continued a frontal attack. The 44th conducted itself with great bravery distracting the enemy while the rest of our core charged forward across the open field. While on the move, our Captain was struck down and command of the 44th went to brevetted 1st Sgt. Ken D. He rallied the troops, and we continued to furiously hurl volleys against the enemy. And as the battle raged, we moved closer, ever closer to the enemy position.

It was not long before we realized that the enemy was again as stubborn as yesterday, and it again required an act of desperation to bring our charge to success. The order went out to charge the enemy position and invest our fate into the hands of the Almighty. We moved as quickly as possible, and despite more casualties, those who remained made a desperate attack. In hand-to-hand combat on the Union line the fighting spirit of the 44th Georgia was on display for all history to record.

Sadly, it needed more than valor this day to open the road to Washington. But there will be other days and other opportunities, and the fighting spirit of the 44th Georgia remains as strong as ever.

Respectfully Submitted,

Corp. Michael Lordi
44th Georgia Volunteer Infantry, Co. C.
The Johnson Guards
2nd Brigade, ANV
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