The enemy's position on the mountain was wellnigh impregnable, for there was no conceivable advance or approach that could not be raked and crossed with the artillery. All the heights and every advantageous position along the entire line where artillery could be massed or a battery planted frowned down on the Confederates through brows of brass and iron. On the slopes of the mountain was to occur one of the most terrific combats of modern times, in which more than two hundred cannon were belching forth their thunders at one time, and nearly two hundred thousand muskets were being discharged as rapidly as men hurried with excitement and passion could load them.
Early in the morning preparations were made for a general attack along the enemy's whole line, while a large force was to be concentrated against his centre, with the view of retaking the heights captured and abandoned the day before. Longstreet massed a large number of long-range guns (fifty-five) upon the crest of a slight eminence just in front of Perry's and Wilcox's brigades and a little to the left of the heights upon which they were to open. Hill massed some sixty guns along the hill in front of Posey's and Mahone's brigades and almost immediately in front of the heights. At twelve o'clock, while the signal-flags were waving swift intelligence along our lines, the shrill sound of a Whitworth gun broke the silence, and the cannonading began.
The enemy replied with terrific spirit, from their batteries posted along the heights. Never had been heard such tremendous artillery firing in the war. The warm and sultry air was hideous with discord. Dense columns of smoke hung over the beautiful valley. The lurid flame leaps madly from the cannon's mouth, each moment the roar grows more intense; now chime in volleys of small-arms. For one hour and a half this most terrific fire was continued, during which time the shrieking of shells, the crashing of falling timber, the fragments of rock flying through the air, shattered from the cliffs by solid shot, the heavy mutterings from the valley between the opposing armies, the splash of bursting shrapnel, and the fierce neighing of wounded horses made a picture terribly grand and sublime.
But there was now to occur a scene of moral sublimity and heroism unequalled in the war. The storming-party was moved up - Pickett's division in advance, supported on the right by Wilcox's brigade, and on the left by Heth's division, commanded by Pettigrew. With steady measured tread the division of Pickett advanced upon the foe. Never did troops enter a fight in such splendid order. Their banners floated defiantly in the breeze as they pressed across the plain. The flags which had waved amid the wild tempest of battle at Gaines's Mill, Frayser's Farm, and Manassas never rose more proudly. Kemper, with his gallant men, leads the right; Garnett brings up the left; and the veteran Armistead, with his brave troops, moves forward in support. The distance is more than half a mile. As they advance, the enemy fire with great rapidity - shell and solid shot give place to canister - the very earth quivers beneath the heavy roar - wide gaps are made in this regiment and that brigade. The line moves onward, cannons roaring, shells and canister plunging and ploughing through the ranks, bullets whizzing as thick as hailstones in winter, and men falling as leaves fall in the blasts of autumn.
“Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies."”
– John 11:25