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Chaplain Eastman : "The Rolling Chaplain"

William Reed Eastman: Born in New York on October 19, 1835. A graduate of Yale, 1854, and Union Theological Seminary in 1862, he mustered into the 72nd New York as regimental chaplain on January 1, 1863 after serving for three months in another unit as sergeant. He mustered out with the regiment on June 19, 1864 near Petersburg, VA.

The 72 NYVs served in the Third Corps under General Sickles at Gettysburg. This unit fought in the Peach Orchard on July 2, 1863 with some of the fiercest fighting and casualties of the battle. Perhaps Chaplain Eastman was out amongst the wounded at the Peach Orchard, or perhaps the Wheatfield.

An incident of noble Christian fortitude and heroism is related of Chaplain Eastman, son of Rev. Dr. Eastman, Secretary of the American Tract Society; (Incidents of Shot and Shell, 1868 pg 164- Battle of Gettysburg)

His horse plunging during battle, struck him on the knee-pan. His leg swelled and stiffened until the pain became almost unendurable. When he could no longer stand, he gave his horse to a servant and laid himself on the ground. He had to take a wounded soldier’s place alone that night. As he lay suffering and thinking he heard a voice; “O my God!” He thought, Can anybody be swearing in such a place as this? He listened again, and a prayer began; it was from a wounded soldier How can I get at him? Was his first impulse. He tried to draw up his stiffened limb, but he could not rise. He put his arm around a sapling, drew up his well foot, and tried to extend the other without bending, that he might walk; but fell back in the effort, jarred as if he had been stabbed. He then thought, I can roll. And over and he rolled in pain and blood, and by dead bodies, until he fell against the dying man, and there he preached Christ and prayed. At length on of the line officers came up and said-

“Where’s the Chaplain? One of the staff officers is dying.”
“ Here he is, here he is,” cried out the sufferer.
“Can you come and see a dying officer?”
“I cannot move. I had to roll myself to this dying man to talk to him.”
“If I detail two men to carry you, can you go?
“Yes.”

They took him gently up and carried him. And that live long night the two men bore him over the field, and laid him down beside bleeding, dying men, while he preached Christ and prayed. Lying thus on his back, the wounded Chaplain could not even see his audience, but must look always heavenward into the eyes of the peaceful stars,-emblems of God’s love, which even that day of blood had not soiled nor made dim.