Civil War for the day

Part Five of Errol Morris' article in The New York Times about Amos Humiston:

Initially, I proposed three questions. Dr. Bourns provided an answer to the first question: What is his (the father’s) name? Whatever his underlying motivation might have been, he was able to use the ambrotype to track down Philinda Humiston and her children. And then Mark Dunkelman, through his extensive research (including the discovery of Amos Humiston’s letters), provided an answer to the second question: Who was he?
But there was a third question: What does he mean to us?
In the years following there have been hundreds, maybe thousands of accounts of Gettysburg. Civil War historians have crisscrossed the battlefield, providing detailed tactical diagrams and maps; the matching of contemporary photographs with the photographs of Brady, O’Sullivan, and Gardner; lists of the casualties, diaries, letters and personal accounts. Enthusiasts have reenacted the major events, complete with artillery, guns, uniforms, and hardtack in their knapsacks.
Here are the essentials of Day One of the battle: There was a broad movement of the Confederate forces from the west and north that drove Union forces through Gettysburg to positions on Cemetery Hill and adjacent hills and ridges, where heavy fighting (including Pickett’s Charge) occurred on the following days, the 2nd and 3rd of July, 1863. The accounts range from the overwhelmingly general to the insanely specific, from the poetic to the pedantic. Of the 43,000 casualties at Gettysburg, there are 43,000 stories, most unknown. Amos Humiston’s is one of them.
It has now become known as Coster’s Last Stand. The brigade marched north into town from Cemetery Hill. They followed Stratton Street, crossed Stevens Run, and finally filed through a narrow carriage gateway into Kuhn’s brickyard of brick kilns and a house, fenced off from the surrounding area. There was one way in and no other way out. They continued across the brickyard, moving in lines along a downward slope, taking position along a fence. To the left, the 27th Pennsylvania held the highest ground, adjacent to the 154th New York in the center, and the 134th New York made up the right flank. They knew they had to hold their fire until the Confederates were within range, but they had no idea that they were outnumbered three to one.
When they crested the hill, the Confederates sent a curtain of shot and shell into the line of Federal troops. Coster’s brigade was simply engulfed. One great fear in 19th century infantry combat was the enfilade attack— fire from the flanks across the line. And that is exactly what happened: the Confederates, wrapping around the 134th New York to the right and the 27th Pennsylvania to the left.
Lieutenant Colonel Allen of the 154th New York ordered his men to retreat. Racing across the brickyard, he reached the top of the rise and found a steadfast wall of Confederate troops. It was a surprise. He thought the position had been held by the 27th Pennsylvania, but the 27th Pennsylvania was no more. Unaware of Lieutenant Colonel Allen’s predicament, Lieutenant John Mitchell, the commander of the 154th New York, Company C (Amos Humiston’s company), rallied his men to hold what he thought was an advantageous position. “Boys, let’s stay right here,” he called to them. But shortly, Mitchell came to what must have been the sickening realization: he was mistaken. They could not hold the Confederates off. He shouted again, “Boys, we must get out of here.”
What role did Amos Humiston play in the battle? What effect did Colonel Coster’s brigade— the brigade in which Amos Humiston served— have on the battle as a whole? Does the question make any sense? The Union was routed on Day One of Gettysburg, but the actions of Coster’s brigade allowed Union forces to consolidate their positions south of the town, and ultimately facilitated the Union victory on Day Three. Is it possible that Coster’s brigade, by protecting the flank and allowing a retreat, ultimately saved the day? Is it possible, is it meaningful, to ask the question: how did Amos Humiston’s actions on Day One of Gettysburg— the day he died— contribute to the Union war effort? There is a tendency when writing about one man to make him the center of the universe, the hub of some vast wheel around which everything else revolves.
What meaning does Amos Humiston’s life and death have? Who can say? We know about battles in aggregate but not through their constituent parts. We can know something about Colonel Coster and his men— less about the individuals, including Amos Humiston, who were part of the brigade under his command. We may know that the casualty-rate among the 154th New York regiment that afternoon was seventy-eight percent, that four out of five men were casualties. But it is the photograph of Humiston’s children, the knowledge that he had a family, and what that family looked like, that not only gives him a face, but it also provides the face of battle. It satisfies a deep craving to make the war about us, to allow us to see ourselves in the midst of it. The recovery of a unique individual from the myriad complexities of history.

Rico says there's a lot more, along with some splendid graphics; go there and read it.