This is a tale about three men who were killed above water.
Each one belonged to the Army of the Potomac. Each one fought in the Battle of Gettysburg. Each one received his death wound in the Plum Run Valley on July 2, 1863.
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| Peter F. Rothermehl's painting from the 1870s depicts the charge of the Pennsylvania Reserve Division across Plum Run. |
Tale, the First: Second Lieutenant Charles Sullivan
McCobb:
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| Second Lieutenant Charles S. McCobb, 4th Maine Infantry. |
Second Lieutenant Charles Sullivan McCobb belonged to Company E, 4th Maine Infantry. He was born in Boothbay, Maine, in 1837. He attended Bowdoin College, graduating with the Class of 1860. On June 15, 1861, he and seven friends went into town with the purpose of enlisting in the Union army. McCobb mustered in as the regiment’s hospital steward. Within days, the 4th Maine had filled its ranks and gone to Washington. While there, McCobb picked flowers straight from Mary Todd Lincoln’s garden and sent them home to his girlfriend, Lizzie Blair. (These dried flowers are still in the possession of the Boothbay Historical Society.)
During the Battle of Bull Run, Confederate forces captured McCobb, holding him as a prisoner of war for five months. After his parole and exchange, he rejoined the 4th Maine, participating in the Peninsula Campaign and in the Battle of Fredericksburg. By Spring 1863, McCobb desired to become an officer. (One of his friends, Jason Carlisle, had become Company E’s commander and McCobb wanted to be his second-in-command.) Nearly all of the 4th Maine’s line officers supported McCobb’s promotion. While at their winter encampment, thirteen officers petitioned Governor Abner Coburn:
Camp Pitcher
Near Falmouth, Va.
March 18th,
1863
To His Excellency the Gov. of Maine,
We, the undersigned, certify that we have been personally
acquainted with Charles S. McCobb, the Hospital Steward of the 4th
Maine Vols., while in the U.S. Service, and having, from observation, in his
intelligence, ability, and especially in his personal courage, the greatest
confidence, we earnestly recommend to your Excellency that he be commissioned
as “Second Lieutenant” in Co. “E,” 4th Maine Regt. Vols.
Robert H. Gray,
Capt., Co. “I,” 4th Me. Vols.
S. S. Stearns, 1st
Lieut. Comdg., “F” Co., 4th Me. Vols.
E. B. Carr, Capt.
Comdg., Co. “H,” 4th Me. Vols.
C. H. Conant, 2d
Lieut. Comdg., Co. “C”
E. Harding, 2d
Lieut. Comdg., Co. “B”
S. F. Miller, 2d
Lieut. Comdg., Co. “K”
R. S. Ayer, Capt.,
Co. A
O. C. McGray, 1st
Lieut., Co. A
Edwin Libby, Capt.,
D Co.
Andrew J. Gray, 2d Lieut.,
A Co.
Geo. M. Bragg, 2d
Lieut., Co. F
Jason Carlisle, 1st
Lieut. Comdg., “E” Co.
George L. Crockett,
2d Lieut. Comdg., Co. G
On April 26, McCobb received his commission and he went into
the Battles of Chancellorsville and Gettysburg. At
Gettysburg, McCobb was hit by a rifle ball in the abdomen. His friend, First Lieutenant
Carlisle, ordered several men to carry him to the rear. McCobb
begged them to leave him behind, but the men refused. Risking their lives, they carried the wounded lieutenant across a mile of rough ground. McCobb survived only a few hours. He made it to a nearby field hospital—probably the Michael Frey
farm—where he died, succumbing either that night or early the next day. He
was twenty-four-years-old. Men from the 4th Maine buried McCobb on
the field, and in early August, McCobb’s brother, Abial, journeyed to Gettysburg
to recover his remains. He was eventually buried at the Congregational Church cemetery in
Boothbay.
Tale, the Second: Sergeant Daniel O’Hara:
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| Sergeant Daniel O'Hara, 40th New York. |
Sergeant Daniel O’Hara belonged to Company G, 40th
New York Infantry. O’Hara was born on April 18, 1841, in Cove (presently Cobh),
County Cork, Ireland. At some point thereafter (I do not know when), his family immigrated to the United States, presumably on
account of the Potato Blight. On October 14, 1861, at age twenty, O’Hara
enlisted in the ranks of the 87th New York. In September 1862, he
transferred to the 40th New York, and rose to the rank of sergeant.
On the afternoon of July 2, 1863, O’Hara was hit by an artillery fragment that pierced his right lung. During the 40th New York’s retreat from the Plum Run Valley, his comrades carried him to the rear. He ended up at the Jacob Schwartz farm where surgeons informed him that his wound was mortal. Fearing the end was nigh, O’Hara wrote a short letter to his parents. He concluded, “Do not weep for me[.] Though I may no longer be with you in this world I shall watch over you until we meet again[.] I Die for our flag and the union I have learned to love so much that even death cannot quell it in my heart. farewell from your ever loving son Daniel.”
O’Hara died on July 8. He was twenty-two-years-old. His
final resting place is in the Soldiers National Cemetery, New York Section,
A-89.
Tale, the Third: First Lieutenant Edward Stanley Abbot:
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| First Lieutenant Edward Stanley Abbot, 2nd Battalion, 17th U.S. Regulars. |
First Lieutenant Edward Stanley Abbot belonged to Company A, 2nd Battalion, 17th U.S. Regular Infantry. He was born October 22, 1841, in Boston. He attended Boston Latin School, Phillips Exeter Academy, and Harvard. In the midst of the Civil War, he quit Harvard to enroll in Norwich Military Academy, taking classes for four months to prepare him for life in the army. On July 1, 1862, he enlisted in the 17th U.S. Regulars at Fort Preble, Portland, Maine. In November 1862, he received a commission to second lieutenant. On April 27, 1863, he became first lieutenant.
Lieutenant Abbot was an idealist and a supporter of
Emancipation. Further, he avowed his willingness to die for the causes of Union and liberty. On May 15, 1863, he wrote this to his mother:
At any rate, we will whip them at last! Forty years the
Hebrews wandered in search of the promised land and they reached it. We too
shall see the fulfillment of the heavenly promise. The God of Justice in heaven
will yet smile on those who fight for justice on earth. I see a future for my
country more noble than was ever yet permitted in any land thus far—a people
just, tolerant, peaceful, giving freedom and education to a continent and true
to the principles for which they have suffered. . . . But supposing all this
and more should happen, what more beautiful death could I die?
Abbot was mortally wounded on the afternoon of July 2, 1863, just as
his regiment crossed Plum Run. A rifle ball struck him on the right shoulder,
flecking off some of the braid from his shoulder insignia. The ball penetrated
his flesh, passed through his right lung, and lodged near his spine. He fell to
the ground unconscious, but his comrades carried him to the rear.
Abbot awakened at the Michael Fiscel farm, a field
hospital for the 5th Corps. On July 7, he wrote a short letter to
his brother. “Wounded in the breast,” he wrote. “Doctor says not mortal. I am
at Corps hospital near Gettysburg. Expect to be in Baltimore in a few days.”
Lieutenant Abbot did not recover. He died the next day, July 8, 1863.
His brother, Edwin H. Abbot, made the trek to Gettysburg to
recover Stanley’s remains. He arrived on July 10, and after asking around, he eventually found two members of the U.S. Regulars who remembered where they had buried him. Edwin Abbot recounted the scene:
My brother’s grave was marked carefully with a wooden
headboard, made from a box cover, and bearing his name, rank, and day of death.
It was so suitable a place for a soldier to sleep, that I was reluctant to
remove the body for any purpose. But the spot was part of a private farm; and
as removal must come, I thought it best to take the body home, and lay it with
the dust of his kindred. When my companions had scraped the little and light
earth away, there he was wrapped in his gray blanket, in so natural a posture,
as I had seen him lie a hundred times in sleep, that it seemed as if he must
awake at a word. Two soldiers of the Eleventh Infantry, the companion regiment
of the Seventeenth, had followed me to the spot, —one a boy hardly as old as
Stanley, the other a man of forty. As the body was lifted from the grave, this
boy of his own accord sprang forward, and gently taking the head, assisted in
laying the body on the ground without disturbing it, a thing not pleasant to
do, for the earth had received and held it for a week. I told them to uncover
the face. They did so, and I recognized the features, though there was nothing
pleasant in the sight. I then bade them replace the folds of the gray blanket,
his most appropriate shroud, and lay the body in the coffin. They did so; but
again the boy stepped forward, and of his own motion carefully adjusted the
folds as they were before. When we turned to go, I spoke to the boy and his
companion. They said they knew Stanley, and knowing I had come for his body,
they had left the camp to help me, because they had liked Stanley. ‘Yes,’ added
the boy, ‘he was a strict officer, but the men all liked him. He was always
kind to them.’ That was his funeral sermon. And, by a pleasant coincidence, as
one of the men remarked to me on our way back, the sun shone out during the ten
minutes we were at the grave, the only time it had appeared for forty-eight
hours.
Edwin returned his brother’s remains to the family plot in
Beverly, Massachusetts. Lieutenant Abbot had been twenty-two-years-old when he
died.
Tale, the Fourth: The Beavers:
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| This image depicts the Plum Run Valley in recent times. The flooding from the beaver dam is seen in the foreground. The monument to the 40th New York can be seen in at right. Back in 1863, Sgt. O'Hara and 145 other men from the 40th New York were killed or wounded in the now-flooded land. |
What did these three Union soldiers have in common (other
than that they died of wounds received at Gettysburg)? Well, each of them
received their mortal wounds on ground
that is now underwater, (or is close to being underwater). In 2017, a family
of beavers moved into the area where these regiments once fought, the Plum Run
Valley. As is their inclination, the beavers dammed up the stream, causing it
to overflow its banks. The National Park Service—the custodians of this
territory—responded lethargically. After letting the flood worsen over the
course of several years, Superintendent Steven Sims responded to the crisis only
after complaints from Civil War enthusiasts and battlefield visitors became too
loud to ignore. In 2022, Sims declared that the beavers must be allowed to
continue to build their dams because they were, in his opinion, not harming the
monuments or the visitors. He said, “Until then, they continue to be our
friendly, furry friends.” But the following year, after the beaver pond reached
the base of the 40th New York monument, his staff deployed “Beaver
Deceivers,” contraptions designed to trick the beavers into altering the flow
of the water. But these devices failed to alleviate the flooding. The new
superintendent, Kristina Heister, who assumed command in 2024, has surrendered this ground as well, declaring the whole area to be a new ecosystem with which the NPS
cannot tamper. “Re-location of the beaver colony,” so says her administration, “will
be considered only as a last resort.”
I am writing this post in 2024. The time has come for this “last resort” to go into effect. (In my opinion, this should have been the first course action undertaken by the NPS.)
The land upon which the 4th Maine, 40th
New York, and 17th U.S. fought (and upon which twenty other Army of
the Potomac regiments also fought) is now underwater.
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| On the afternoon of July 2, the 4th Maine held a position just east of Devil's Den. The left flank of the regiment extended into the marsh. Of the three positions profiled here, the 4th Maine's is the least often underwater. Typically, the flooding doesn't extend over Warren Avenue. However, the men of the 4th Maine surely retreated over the flooded area. The brave men who carried Lieut. McCobb off the field traipsed through the dammed area of Plum Run. |
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| The 40th New York held a position right in the middle of the dammed area of Plum Run. This regiment and another--the 6th New Jersey--arrived in the Plum Run Valley shortly after the 4th Maine gave way. Sgt. O'Hara must have been mortally wounded in the middle of "Lake Crawford." |
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| At dusk, after the 3rd Corps troops vacated Devil's Den, Brig. Gen. Romeyn B. Ayres's 2nd Division, 5th Corps, arrived in the Plum Run Valley from the slopes of Little Round Top. Col. Sidney Burbank's brigade led the way. The 17th U.S. Regulars held the left of Burbank's line. I'm not sure where, exactly, Lieut. Abbot received his wound. Was he hit near Plum Run or was he hit atop Houck's Ridge? Either way, he crossed the flooded area. He and his men were in combat when they were in the area that is now occupied the ahistorical beaver habitat. |
I wish I did not have to state the obvious, but I must. The
battlefield of Gettysburg is sacred ground. By their actions, the beavers had
vandalized it in a manner no different than a person armed with a can of
spray paint.
It is important that we, the visitors of Gettysburg, take steps to resolve the crisis in the Plum Run Valley. United States soldiers sacrificed their lives to protect the republican form of government, a government that gives us, the people these United States, the right to elect our leaders. Further, whether they intended it or not, these same U.S. soldiers sacrificed their lives to end slavery, one of the greatest scourges of American history. If we cannot protect this small patch of hallowed ground, then how can we capably protect sacred spaces elsewhere across our landscape? If we choose to sit placidly and allow beavers—nature’s bulldozers—to demolish our cultural heritage, how can we hope to defend against corporations—and their mechanical bulldozers—when they declare their intent to plow under our sacred ground anywhere else?
Surely, there is no reason to harm the beavers. They merely
need to be trapped and relocated, but the National Park Service seems unwilling
or incapable of doing this. It is imperative that people who care about the
battlefield let the administration of Gettysburg National Military Park know that they are doing a poor job. Superintendent Heister needs to be called onto
the carpet. People need to tell her how they feel. She needs to be encouraged
to take action so that she might be worthy of the responsibility bequeathed to
her.
We need to remind her that Charley McCobb, Daniel O’Hara, and Stanley Abbot were all killed above
water. Some might say this point is too obvious to make. However,
given the present circumstances, I think it must be emphasized. The ground upon which they were shot is now
underwater!
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| This image of the beaver pond was taken from the same perspective as Peter Rothermehl's painting. |
