In the critical hours before the Confederate assault at Gettysburg, General James Longstreet stood at the center of one of the Civil War’s most consequential command disputes—opposing the very attack he would be ordered to lead. Longstreet, known as Robert E. Lee’s most trusted lieutenant, privately believed the frontal assault against entrenched Union forces on July 2–3, 1863, was catastrophic. Yet historians and eyewitness accounts show a general who, despite his doubts, bore the burden of executing a strategy he had fiercely resisted.
The tensions began months earlier. On May 9, 1863, Longstreet arrived at the winter encampment of the Army of Northern Virginia to meet with Lee. The two discussed the recent Battle of Chancellorsville and the wounding of General Stonewall Jackson, who died the following day. With the Second Corps leaderless, Lee turned to Longstreet to plan the next move—what would become the Gettysburg campaign.
Their conversations revealed clashing military visions. Longstreet repeatedly proposed sending two divisions to Tennessee to combine with the Army of Tennessee and Joseph E. Johnston’s troops. His strategy was to defeat the Army of the Cumberland near Nashville, then push into Kentucky and threaten Cincinnati.
He believed this move could prevent the fall of Vicksburg. Lee instead favored an offensive into Pennsylvania. Longstreet argued for a defensive approach, forcing the enemy to attack Confederate forces in strong positions. He later reflected that it became “useless and improper” to keep pushing his alternative plan, as Lee remained focused on invasion.
Despite his later critiques, Longstreet expressed surprising confidence in the Pennsylvania campaign at the time. In a letter to Senator Wigfall, he wrote that if the army could cross the Potomac with 150,000 men, “we could force Lincoln to declare his intentions, peace or extermination. ”
Lee reorganized the army for the campaign, promoting Richard Ewell to replace Jackson and creating a new third corps under A. P.
Hill. Longstreet approved of Ewell but privately doubted Hill’s leadership, preferring D. H. Hill for the role.
One of the most fraught conflicts arose with division commander Lafayette McLaws. Lee, disillusioned by McLaws’ illness at Chancellorsville, considered reassigning him, but McLaws insisted he was fit for duty. Longstreet, though skeptical, accepted responsibility for McLaws’ performance and warned Lee that any failures would fall on his shoulders. The army began its advance on June 3.
Longstreet’s First Corps, composed of McLaws’, Hood’s, and Pickett’s divisions, pushed north under the summer sun. One officer noted Longstreet’s exhaustion, but the general brusquely replied, “I’ve never known tiredness in my life. ” He shuttled across the Shenandoah Valley, coordinating with Jeb Stuart’s cavalry to screen their movements through the Blue Ridge gaps. By June 27, part of Lee’s army reached Chambersburg, Pennsylvania.
British observer Arthur Fremantle of the Coldstream Guards noted the bond between Lee and Longstreet, later writing, “Their relationship is quite touching. They are almost always together. ” Yet some of Longstreet’s officers grumbled about the constant proximity, feeling it limited their independence. On June 28, with Stuart’s cavalry absent, Lee lacked reliable reconnaissance.
A scout named Harrison, paid in gold coins for his services, reached Longstreet’s headquarters with urgent news: the Union Army was advancing fast. Lee, initially planning to move on Harrisburg, abruptly changed course. “Gentlemen, we will not advance to Harrisburg as planned,” he declared. “Instead, we will head to Gettysburg to see what General Meade is up to.
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The Confederates shifted east toward Cashtown. Longstreet slept little that night, sensing the coming storm. On July 1, Union and Confederate forces clashed outside Gettysburg. As Longstreet, Lee, and Fremantle rode along the Chambersburg Pike, they spotted federal troops regrouping on high ground beyond the town.
Lee, seeing an opportunity, remarked, “We could not have drawn the enemy into a position more favorable for our plans. ”
Longstreet countered, “If they are there, it’s because they want to be there. ”
Lee was resolute. Striking his fist into his hand, he declared, “If the enemy is there tomorrow, we must attack him.
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Before dawn on July 2, a weary Longstreet rode to Seminary Ridge to meet Lee. The plan was to flank the Union left and seize key high ground. But as the sun rose, Longstreet’s apprehension grew. At daybreak, Lee finalized plans for an assault on Union positions.
Over breakfast, he convened with Longstreet, A. P. Hill, Henry Heth, and John Bell Hood near Seminary Ridge. Longstreet urged a flanking maneuver to outposition Meade’s army.
Lee dismissed the idea, striking a map with his finger and saying, “General, I wish you to place your division across this road. Can you do it? ”
Captain Samuel Johnston of Lee’s staff and Major John Clark of Longstreet’s staff scouted southeast toward Little Round Top and the Peach Orchard. They reported only a few federal cavalrymen—a grave underestimation.
In reality, Union Third Corps infantry lurked unseen in the mist. McLaws requested permission to verify the terrain himself. Longstreet refused, snapping, “I don’t want you leaving your division. ”
Lee traced a perpendicular line across the Emmitsburg Road on his map, ordering McLaws to attack head-on.
McLaws protested, drawing a parallel line instead and recommending a flanking position. Lee overruled him, saying, “No, General, I want it placed perpendicular. ”
As Lee rode off to consult Ewell, Longstreet lingered, visibly uneasy. He confided to Hood, “We should swing past their left, put ourselves between Meade and Washington.
” But with Lee’s mindset fixed, he grudgingly prepared for battle. By 11 a. m. , Lee returned and issued final orders.
McLaws’ and Hood’s divisions would lead the assault. The Confederate attack lurched forward at 4 p. m. Hood’s division targeted Devil’s Den and Little Round Top while McLaws’ men advanced toward the Wheatfield and Peach Orchard.
Longstreet insisted Hood wait for a delayed brigade, losing precious daylight. McLaws discovered too late that Longstreet had misrepresented Union positions—federal forces were already entrenched ahead. He later wrote, “It was there I realized we’d been misled about enemy positions. ”
Observers noted Longstreet lacked his usual vigor.
“He did not approach this duty with the same energy he’d shown at Second Manassas or Fredericksburg,” artillery officer Edward Porter Alexander later recorded. Yet amid the chaos, Longstreet remained stoic on horseback, surveying artillery impacts through his spyglass as men fell around him. Kershaw’s brigade took devastating artillery fire after being funneled onto exposed roads where Union signal stations could spot them. Johnston had urged using concealed fields, but Longstreet insisted on the predictable roadway approach.
When Hood’s scouts reported a chance to flank the Union right, Longstreet refused four requests to adjust tactics. As Wofford’s Georgians charged forward, troops erupted in cheers at the sight of Longstreet, their “old bulldog,” unaware their commander had privately opposed this very attack. As dusk fell on July 2, federal prisoners captured earlier by Barksdale’s Mississippians stared at Longstreet. One Union soldier, learning it was “Old Pete,” muttered, “Now I understand why we’re thrashed on every field.
There’s not another lieutenant general in your army who’d risk men like this. ”
Longstreet, his boots splattered with blood, snapped at his cheering troops, “Cheer less, men fight more. ”
At sunrise on July 3, Lee rode to Longstreet’s headquarters demanding a renewed assault. Longstreet, who’d spent the night scouting, argued fiercely: “General, I’ve been a soldier all my life.
Fifteen thousand men can’t take that ridge. Let me flank Meade instead. ”
Lee jabbed his fist toward Cemetery Ridge. “We attack there with your corps.
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Neither general informed Pickett that his fresh division would lead the charge. Alexander’s account claims Longstreet never received the dawn attack order. Whether from oversight or deliberate silence remains debated. For the first time since Antietam, Longstreet positioned himself dangerously close to the front.
An aide noted his hands shook—not from fear but from helpless rage at the waste. That night, he refused to personally report to Lee, sending only a casualty list. As morning fog burned away on July 3, Lee pointed toward Cemetery Ridge with iron resolve. “The enemy is there and I am going to strike him.
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Longstreet made one last plea: “General, I’ve been a soldier all my life. No fifteen thousand men can take that position. ”
Lee’s response was a silent fist slammed toward the ridge. The order was final.
At 11:45 a. m. , Longstreet sent a desperate note to Colonel Alexander: “If our fire does not drive off or demoralize the enemy, do not advise Pickett to charge. I rely on your judgment.
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Pickett’s Virginians formed in two gleaming lines, unaware they’d spearhead the assault. Hill’s shattered brigades, still reeling from July 1, shuffled awkwardly to support Pickett’s left. Hood’s and McLaws’ divisions were bled white from the previous day’s fighting. At 12:15 p.
m. , approximately 170 Confederate cannons opened fire in the largest artillery duel of the Civil War. Alexander later wrote that smoke obscured everything—he couldn’t judge whether they’d silenced the Union guns. As Pickett’s men stepped off at 3 p.
m. , Longstreet, unable to watch, turned away. His final words to Alexander: “I don’t want to make this charge. Not now.
Not here. ”
When Pickett approached for final orders and asked, “General, shall I advance? ” Longstreet could only bow his head silently—a gesture soldiers would later call the death warrant of the Confederacy. Brigadier General Kear warned Longstreet, “A dozen men are cut down here every second.
” Fremantle marveled at Pickett riding into the storm while Longstreet sat frozen, “a man watching his own funeral. ”
At 2:45 p. m. , a courier sprinted through cannon fire with Alexander’s desperate note: “For God’s sake, come quick.
We can’t support you. ”
Pickett never saw it. His division was already half-shattered. As shattered remnants of Pickett’s division stumbled back to Seminary Ridge, Longstreet met a shaken staff officer who gasped that the men needed reforming.
“I’d have liked to miss this very much,” Longstreet growled. With Union cheers rolling across the field, Longstreet and Lee ordered the bloodied but unbroken Army of Northern Virginia to retreat, marking the end of the Confederacy’s last great offensive. Riding among survivors, Lee said, “It’s all my fault. You must help me save these men.
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Longstreet silently counted empty spaces in the ranks. Every missing face was a man who’d followed orders he had opposed. Fremantle observed that the Southerners looked “like ghosts walking out of their own graves. ”
In the weeks that followed, Longstreet grappled with history’s judgment.
Would Gettysburg haunt him as caution or cowardice? Could flanking Meade’s left have changed the war? Did thousands of men die for a general’s pride? Longstreet’s later service in the Union army proved his crisis at Gettysburg wasn’t about loyalty.
But for Longstreet and Lee, the battle was the day the war—and their reputations—changed forever.