Welcome to Talk With History.

I am your host Scott, and this week I am bringing you a test project

that never quite made the airways.

Life has been busy for Jen and I, so our episode on Shiloh

will be coming out next week.

So for now, I want to bring you a short episode from the Battle of Gettysburg.

During our occasional breaks I like to experiment with new formats and try

things out and this episode was just that.

You may recognize some things that we've taken from that experiment, the

short story style vignettes that I've been including in our regular episodes.

It's been refreshing and fun to work with sound effects in a more

scripted format to try and bring listeners deeper into the story.

I hope you enjoy the story from a small town in Pennsylvania in July of 1863.

Jen walked into the third Gettysburg souvenir store in the past hour.

She was on the hunt for a very specific shirt with a very

specific historical figure on it.

We had been to the battlefield earlier in the day, walked

Devil's Den, no ghosts this time.

Ask me more about that another time.

We'd driven up to Big Round Top and Little Round Top and seen

the statue of General Warren.

The view as picturesque as you could ask for.

With summer in motion, the trees were green and full, much like they

would have been in July of 1863.

We could almost hear the musket shots echoing from our left, the

orders being barked to Joshua Chamberlain to hold that flank.

Funny that the man who gave Chamberlain those orders is not really known.

Sure, he's in the history books and he even made it into the movie,

starring Jeff Daniels as Chamberlain.

But Jen and I have the perspective of Navy officers.

She a veteran and myself still currently serving.

Leadership matters in battle, a lot.

Why do you think Stonewall Jackson was such an icon?

Because he was an amazing leader for the Confederacy in battle.

His presence and direction alone often dictated a win or loss for the South.

But this Northern leader?

Well, I don't want to spoil it, but there's a reason Colonel Strong Vincent's

name didn't make the victory circuit.

The throbbing in my leg is a dull counterpoint to the symphony

of moans and prayers around me.

We lie here, a tapestry of blue uniforms, beneath the watchful

gaze of the wheat field.

Little round top, they call it.

A cruel joke, considering the storm that raged here.

Just days ago, it was my lawyer's mind that surveyed this very ground.

No grand strategy, just the gnawing worry that this rise, seemingly insignificant,

might hold the key to battle.

And maybe the war itself.

There were no orders, just a spark of conviction, a whisper in my gut.

We scrambled up the rocky incline of my brigade.

A mishmash of regiments, some green, some bloodied veterans.

Their faces etched with the same confusion I felt.

Then came the thunder.

Not the cannons, but the Confederate charge.

A tide of gray washing over the crest.

On 20th May, young Joshua Chamberlain, leading them with a professor's

fervor, held firm on the right.

But the center of the 16th Michigan, they wavered.

Panic, a disease, spreading fast.

I remember screaming the words hoarse in my throat, don't give him an

inch boys, don't give him an inch.

It wasn't a grand speech, but a desperate plea, a dam against the rising tide.

Heat, the smoke, the clang of metal on metal.

Time doesn't feel the same in battle.

I saw men fall, comrades and foes alike, their faces contorted in

grotesque tableau of fear and fury.

A searing pain split my leg, the world tilting on its axis.

And darkness.

A blessed oblivion.

Now.

The symphony returns, a chorus of pain punctuated by occasional cough or rattle.

I see faces, blurry and concerned, the young surgeon with his

worried brow, the griveled private offering canteen of lukewarm water.

There's regret, a sliver of it, mixed with the dull ache in my leg.

Regret for the life I left behind.

The courtroom debates, the quiet evenings with Sarah.

But mostly there's a strange calm.

A sense of purpose fulfilled.

The little round top had held.

A foothold clawed from the jaws of defeat.

My vision swam again.

The symphony fades.

Perhaps it's the morphine.

Or maybe it's just the tide finally turning.

Was that George Meade that stopped by?

Or was that about Brigadier General?

Whatever it was, I closed my eyes and the image of Little Round Top bathed in the

golden light of dawn rises in my mind.

A small hill, yes, but on that hill a stand was made.

And for that, I have no regrets.

Fed up with the constant searching, Jen finally asked the older gentleman

behind the counter, Do you have any shirts with Strong Vincent on them?

Now I could tell this guy knew his history by his response.

No.

But we should.

The lawyer from Erie, Pennsylvania, led soldiers across many miles,

fought in numerous battles, and when he saw the general's aide lost and

unsure of orders just as the Battle of Gettysburg kicked off, Strong Vincent

took it upon himself to position his troops to defend Little Round Top.

Vincent impressed upon Chamberlain's importance of his position on

the brigade's left flank, and then Vincent left to attend

to the brigade's right flank.

There, the 16th Michigan Infantry was starting to yield to enemy pressure.

Mounting a large boulder, Vincent brandished a writing crop given to

him by his wife and shouted to his men, Don't give him an inch, boys.

Don't give him an inch.

A bullet struck him through the thigh and the groin and he fell.

Due to his leadership and the determination of the 20th Maine, the 44th

New York, the 83rd Pennsylvania, and the 16th Michigan Infantry, the Union line

held against the Confederate onslaught.

Vincent was carried from the hill to a nearby farm where he lay

dying for the next five days.

Unable to be transported home due to the severity of his injury.

Major General George G.

Meade recommended Vincent for promotion to Brigadier General

on the evening of July 2nd.

The promotion was dated July 3rd, 1863.

Now it's doubtful that Vincent knew about the honor before he had died, but

according to letters of Private Oliver Norton, his commission as a Brigadier

General was read to him on his deathbed.

Jen and I left Gettysburg.

With echoes of Vincent on our minds, sometimes the heroes of history get

lost in the shadows of those who lived.

Colonel Strong Vincent's leadership and bravery on Little Round Top secured a

pivotal point in the Battle of Gettysburg.

And while his name doesn't grace the gift shop t shirts, perhaps it should.

So what did you think?

Did you recognize some of what we've been adding to Top With History?

I just want to thank our loyal listeners for all the

feedback, support, and reviews.

Without all of that, this would be a lot less fun.

Please continue to reach out and support or chat with us

over at thehistoryroadtrip.

com where you can engage on each episode and find other ways to show your support.

Thank you, and I'll talk to you next time.