4m 27s: Lenght
22View

The sound of musket volley and artillery fire emanated from the rolling fields of Gettysburg. In a nearby farm house, a man lay dying in bed, a bullet lodged in his groin. He was twenty-six years old, a lawyer from Waterford, PA who practice law in Erie, and married to a women named Elizabeth H. Carter. As time ticked onward and the battle outside raged forth, he became paler, weaker, and increasingly incapacitated. Yet even in this state, the man’s tenacity was evident: death was not to be feared, only recognized. Just two years before, on the day he enlisted, he explained to his wife, “If I fall, remember you have given your husband to the most righteous cause that ever widowed a woman.” His name was Strong Vincent, Colonel of the 83rd Pennsylvania regiment. [When we think of heroes, they often exist as a far off memory, or come from some distant place. In reality, Erie County was home to hundreds of soldiers whose level of bravery far surpassed any fictional illustration of valor. Heroism, however, was not necessarily a conscious act of courage, but was doing what needed to be done.] When the moment is right, some phrases ring louder than a gunshot. As the 16th Michigan was falling under Confederate pressure, Strong Vincent mounted a boulder and commanded, “Don’t give them an inch!” A sharpshooter from the South had him in his sights, took aim, and fired. A moment later, Vincent toppled to the ground. Too wounded to fight, he was carried off the battlefield by Martin V. Gifford of the 83rd Pennsylvania. Although the 16th Michigan staggered, Vincent’s brigade held against the Confederate onslaught, fighting side by side to defend the centerline; many of them still hearing his words echoing in their heads. Heroism doesn’t look like anything. Its forms are boundless. However, as the statue for the 83rd Pennsylvania regiment was to be erected at Gettysburg, a familiar face soon would appear on the sculpture. It was to look like the “ideal soldier:” the universal hero, the personification of stoicism and strength. There were many heroic men in the 83rd —it was known as one of the most gallant regiments in all of the civil war— but who better to model this statue than Martin Gifford, the man who carried their Colonel to safety, and ultimately, his death bed? When the monument to the 83rd Pennsylvania was finally erected on the south side of Little Round Top, Vincent’s face looked down upon the battlefield. In many ways, he was the embodiment of the “ideal soldier” for which Pennsylvania was looking. Ultimately, it was Vincent’s initiative to take his brigade to Little Round Top; a decision that effectively blocked the Confederates from occupying a position which would have been nearly impossible to regain otherwise. Sadly, even after Vincent’s death, his story continued tragically. His wife gave birth to a baby girl two months after he had passed away, who died before reaching the age of one. She is buried next to Vincent in the Erie Cemetery. Elizabeth never remarried. The following day, President Lincoln promoted Vincent to Brigade General. Although his commission was read to him on his deathbed, it is doubtful he was conscious of his promotion. However, his initiative to take action and secure Little Round Top was regarded by all as an act of bravery. In many ways, Vincent helped shape our Nation’s history.