Reply of the Philadelphia Brigade Association to the Foolish and Absurd Narrative of Lieutenant Frank A. Haskell

In Short

This book is a formal, indignant rebuttal published in 1910 by the Philadelphia Brigade Association. It aims to dismantle the historical inaccuracies and perceived insults contained in a narrative written by Lieutenant Frank A. Haskell, which had been posthumously republished by the Wisconsin History Commission and the Massachusetts Loyal Legion. By juxtaposing Haskell’s sensationalist claims against official records and the testimony of Colonel Charles H. Banes, the authors seek to restore the reputation of their unit. It has lasted as a primary document of veteran memory and historiographical conflict.

The Story

The conflict begins in the early 20th century, nearly fifty years after the Civil War, when members of the Philadelphia Brigade—a unit of the Second Corps—discovered that a private narrative by Lieutenant Frank A. Haskell had been given new life through prestigious, state-sponsored publications. Haskell, a staff officer who died at Cold Harbor in 1864, had written an account of Gettysburg shortly after the battle. In this account, he claimed that during the heat of the action, members of the Philadelphia Brigade—and others—broke ranks and fled like "rabbits," leaving him as a singular, heroic figure holding the line.

The Philadelphia Brigade Association, led by veterans and supported by General Alexander S. Webb, views this publication as a grave, posthumous slander. They argue that Haskell’s account is not historical fact but the product of a young, egotistical officer who was likely suffering from the adrenaline and delirium of combat. To counter him, the Association presents the "History of the Philadelphia Brigade" by Colonel Charles H. Banes. This alternative record documents the unit’s arduous march from Falmouth to Gettysburg, their steady presence on Cemetery Ridge, and their pivotal role in repelling Pickett’s Charge at the "Bloody Angle."

The Association’s argument is twofold. First, they provide statistical evidence—a detailed table of casualties—to demonstrate that a unit losing over 32 percent of its men could not have been a "fear-stricken flock." They emphasize that these men faced the brunt of the Confederate assault, with many dying at the fence line while serving alongside the artillery. Second, they attack the credibility of the institutions republishing Haskell. They criticize the Wisconsin History Commission for prioritizing "original" documents over accuracy and the Massachusetts Loyal Legion for editing the text inconsistently.

The arc of the book is one of mounting righteous anger. The authors systematically pick apart Haskell’s vignettes, such as his claim that he rode between the two armies as a "solitary horseman" while remaining miraculously untouched by enemy fire. They mock this as "Buffalo Bill" theatrics. They further defend the Eleventh Corps and General Doubleday, both of whom Haskell disparaged as cowards or incompetents. The Association concludes that the republication of Haskell’s work is an ethical failure by the organizations involved. They argue that these institutions, by choosing to circulate "venomous" and "scandalous" material, are actively detracting from the true sacrifices of the men who fought at Gettysburg. The book ends not with a resolution of the historical debate, but with a firm, public demand for accountability and a final, defiant testament to the honor of the Philadelphia Brigade.

How It Unfolds

The grievance is voiced The book opens with the Brigade Association’s formal resolution to reject Haskell’s narrative, which they label "foolish and absurd." They detail how Haskell’s personal letters, never intended for general publication, were exhumed and treated as definitive history.

The rebuttal begins The authors introduce Colonel Banes’s history as the authoritative, calm, and truthful contrast to Haskell’s "delirious" writing. They map the Brigade’s grueling march to Gettysburg to establish their presence and discipline before the fighting even commenced.

The battle is reconstructed The narrative shifts to the heat of the second and third days at Gettysburg, specifically the defense at the "Bloody Angle." They quote official reports to prove that the Brigade stood its ground and took significant casualties while capturing flags and prisoners.

The institutions are challenged The Association turns its focus to the Wisconsin History Commission and the Loyal Legion. They demand to know why these groups would choose to validate such "vainglorious" and "indecent" claims, effectively accusing them of spreading historical falsehoods.

The final defense The book concludes with letters and appendices that reinforce the Brigade’s heroism. They insist that the true legacy of the battle belongs to the men who died there, not to the inflated self-importance of a staff officer who sought "immortal fame" through romance rather than duty.

The People

General Alexander S. Webb serves as the moral center of the response. As the commander of the Philadelphia Brigade during the battle, he feels the weight of the slander most personally, viewing the defense of his men’s reputation as a duty he owes to his "honored dead."

Lieutenant Frank A. Haskell stands as the antagonist, though he is long deceased. The authors characterize him as an ambitious, young officer whose "egotism" led him to inflate his own importance at the expense of others. They paint him as a man who confused his own exhaustion and excitement for universal truth.

Colonel Charles H. Banes provides the factual anchor for the book. His calm, deliberate, and professional writing style is held up by the Association as the model of the "manly man" and the "thoughtful" soldier, standing in stark opposition to Haskell’s frantic, incoherent prose.

General George G. Meade, General John Gibbon, and General Abner Doubleday are defended by the authors against Haskell’s insults. The authors highlight the absurdity of a mere first lieutenant presuming to critique these seasoned commanders, emphasizing the breach of military discipline and common sense that Haskell’s narrative represents.

In Its Own Voice

"The unreliability of Lieut. Haskell as a writer of military matters was equaled only by the egotism of the youthful Lieutenant."

This line sets the tone for the authors' assessment of Haskell’s character and his credibility as a historian.

"If Haskell, or any other first lieutenant, would dare to have had the impudence to direct a Major General, and he a graduate of West Point... is it not more than likely... that such a presumptuous lieutenant would have been sent back to his command under guard?"

The authors use this rhetorical question to highlight the sheer implausibility of Haskell’s claims regarding his role in directing the movements of superior officers.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument about the ownership of history and the dangers of allowing private, unvetted diaries to displace documented fact. The authors grapple with the "Haskell virus"—a brand of vanity they believe corrupted the institutional memory of the Civil War. They raise the question of whether a historical organization’s commitment to preserving "original" documents justifies the continued dissemination of known, harmful inaccuracies. Ultimately, the book is a struggle to define what constitutes a veteran’s legacy: is it the raw, immediate, often biased account of an individual witness, or is it the verified, collective sacrifice of an entire unit? The authors insist that justice for the dead demands the latter.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the historiography of the American Civil War will find this book a fascinating study of how "truth" is contested long after the last shots are fired. It is a raw, unapologetic piece of veteran advocacy, and its tone—veering from cold, analytical dismissal to hot, righteous indignation—offers a rare window into how soldiers felt their sacrifices were being misremembered by future generations.

The reading experience is intense. It feels like stepping into a heated debate at a veterans' hall, where the stakes are not just history, but the honor of fallen brothers. The book is heavily reliant on the specific, sometimes technical details of military movements, and the authors do not shy away from the harsh language of their grievance. It is not an objective history, nor does it claim to be; it is a document of memory. Those who enjoy books that peel back the layers of how we curate and interpret the past will appreciate the Association's methodical dismantling of Haskell’s "myth-making." It remains a sharp reminder that the history of any great event is often as much about who tells the story as it is about what actually happened on the field.