


When the Union began to come apart in late 1860 and early 1861, as the Southern states sought to create a new nation out of the fabric of the old, no one on either side of the secession issue had any firm notion of the consequences. Many, both North and South, believed it would not come to a clash of arms. But the questions at issue were too serious and too emotionally ladened to avoid a struggle. Neither the integrity of the Union nor slavery were issues over which men were any longer willing to compromise. So there was war, the bloodiest and greatest in the American experience.
By the summer of 1863 the American people had suffered through two years of bloody civil war with little to show for it.
For the Union it had been a frustrating time. Great armies had repeatedly marched southwards with hopes high for a swift victory, only to be beaten back in defeat and disgrace. Some, a few, despaired, whether from conviction or political expediency, saying that the war was worth pursuing any further. But the spirit of the nation remained remarkably firm, sustained by the indomitable will of President Lincoln, and fueled by the Emancipation Proclamation. Despite numerous reverses in the Eastern Theater, there were victories in the West. And the Union remained strong. The enormous agricultural, industrial, and financial resources of the North had been mobilized and production of the munitions of war had soared. Adroit diplomacy had averted foreign recognition of the rebellious South. A powerful navy had been created to deny the use of rivers and coasts and seas to the South. A great army of some 800,000 men had been raised, trained, and equipped, with some 600,000 seasoned men ready to take the field. Able commanders were coming to the fore to lead them in increasing numbers. All that was required for victory was time, and will.
The first two years of the war had been frustrating for the Confederacy as well. There had been many great and costly victories, but defeats as well, and neither independence nor foreign recognition had yet been attained. Nevertheless, much had been accomplished. A functioning government had been set up. Whole new industries had been created. A navy had been established and commerce raiders were scouring the seas in search of Federal merchantmen. Most spectacularly, a great army of some 500,000 men had been recruited and trained and equipped and led to victory by a remarkably talented group of generals. It was heady stuff, and Southern morale and determination remained high. To be sure, there were great dangers yet to be faced, but few appear to have doubted the inevitability of victory. However, some discerning individuals had begun to realize that the ability of the South to sustain the war much longer was limited. The nature of war had changed, and changed in ways that were barely perceptible.
What had changed the conduct of war was the Industrial Revolution. It was no longer possible for a war to be decided in one or two great, decisive battles as in days of Napoleon. The mechanization of industry and agriculture made virtually limitless production of munitions of war possible, while at the same time releasing enormous numbers of men to fight. Railroads and telegraphs and steamships permitted greater efficiency in the movements of men and material. And the increasing technical sophistication of weapons caused the battlefield to be far bloodier and more dangerous than ever before. Nurtured on the lessons of the Napoleonic Wars, politicians and generals were slow to see the impact of these changes; ordinary citizens had no understanding of them at all. In the new age the society with the greatest resources would be triumphant, given the will to win.
So, appearances aside, the strategic situation of the South in the summer of 1863 was poor. The Confederacy was rapidly approaching the limits of its resources. Little more could be expected from the South's slender industrial base. Manpower was increasingly hard to find. Foreign trade was virtually nonexistent as the Union blockade became ever more effective. Militarily, conditions were deteriorating. In the West, Grant was driving one Confederate army against the fortress of Vicksburg, while Rosecrans prepared to drive another out of Eastern Tennessee and into Georgia. And in the East, despite the reverse at Chancellorsville, the Army of the Potomac remained strong and game north of the Rappahannock River. A significant prolongation of the war would not be favorable to the South.
Concerned with the overall strategic situation of the South, Confederate General Robert E. Lee, commanding the Army of Northern Virginia, began to think about undertaking an offensive into Union territory early in 1863. Such a maneuver had several points in its favor. A continued defensive posture in Virginia would permanently concede the initiative to the Union, for with the spring and summer the Army of the Potomac would come south once again and not even Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia could win every battle. Moreover, the present position of Lee's army, just south of the Rappahannock River, was difficult to sustain logistically, particularly as Southern resources were beginning to show the strain of war. Another winter on the Rappahannock line might well prove the ruination of the army. In the North the army would be able to carry off supplies sufficient to enable it to get through the next winter. Invading the enemy's territory would also take pressure off war-torn Virginia for a while, which might further improve the food situation for the coming year. On a broader strategic level, an offensive would wrest the initiative from the Union. By striking into Pennsylvania, Lee would be in a position to simultaneously threaten both Washington and Baltimore, and, indeed, at least theoretically, even Philadelphia. The Army of the Potomac would be unable to avoid a decisive clash and, if defeated, would be too far from Fortress Washington to readily seek shelter, thereby perhaps laying itself open to total destruction. Moreover, Union armies in the West would be forced to send troops eastwards, thereby relieving the pressure on the Confederacy along the Mississippi and in Tennessee. Perhaps most importantly, a successful invasion of the North could have far-reaching political consequences. It would strengthen Southern morale, while dealing a severe blow to that of the Union, perhaps encouraging those in the North who were in favor of an immediate end to the war. A successive offensive might also result in diplomatic recognition from Britain and France, and possibly their intervention. In short, an offensive could well win the war.
Thus was the stage set for the campaign and the Battle of Gettysburg.

