Boys of Wartime: Will at the Battle of Gettysburg (2 page)

I had to content myself with reading the newspaper accounts of battles in places like Bull Run and Antietam, and, just recently, Chancellorsville. Sometimes the men in town had long, dull talks about the causes of the war, and some folks said the fighting wasn't even worth it. I still didn't understand why the South thought they could just bust up the country.

I followed Jacob's movements on the map on our parlor table, wishing I could be there with him to help save the Union.

His letters were mostly about the food and the drills; he left out all the exciting parts. Maybe he was trying to spare Mother and Grace from worrying, but those letters sure were boring. As far as I could tell, he had done nothing heroic. Then he got captured in Fredericksburg, Virginia. We got a letter from a Southern lady who had nursed him, informing us that he had been transferred from an army hospital to a prison camp, and then no more. Father took the train to Washington two months ago to see if he could get Jacob released in a prisoner exchange, but he's had no luck as of yet. While he waits, Father signed on to be a doctor in one of the army hospitals there.

I tried to be the man in the family and make him proud, but Grace seemed to think that was her job. The only thing I got to do was pack away hams and hide our horse in case the Rebs marched into town.

This time the governor had issued a proclamation urging the people to organize and defend the state. A few days later, he telegraphed a warning directing us to move our valuables out of town.

Fahnestock Brothers and other stores filled railroad cars with goods to ship to Philadelphia. The cashier at the bank packed the cash and valuables in a valise and was ready to run. So were the postmaster and the telegraph operator. The roads were clogged with farmers, their horses, and other livestock. Wagons were filled with whatever crops that had come in. Everyone knew the Rebel army was hungry. They would eat every last thing they got their hands on if they invaded.

I felt sorriest for the Negroes. It seemed like every other week they had to sling everything they owned on their backs and hightail it up Baltimore Street for the woods beyond Culp's Hill. The Rebels were known to capture them and sell them in the slave markets down south—even those who had been born on free soil and had always been free.

Aunt Bess, the woman who helped Mother with her cleaning and her washing, was ailing. Mother tried to convince her to stay with the promise that she would hide Bess if the Rebels came anywhere near.

“I ain't going to risk it,” Aunt Bess had said. “I'd rather die an early death as a free woman than live a hundred more years as a slave in the South.”

I wouldn't argue with that. I believed that slavery was evil through and through, but I still thought the town was in an uproar over nothing.

Even so, I hid my own treasures. I opened my box and looked everything over: half a package of Necco Wafers I had hidden from the twins, a genuine Indian arrowhead, my spelling medal, drumsticks (Mother wouldn't let me have a drum), the ten cents I was saving for the next time Owen Robinson cranked out ice cream at his confectionery, and my slingshot. On second thought, I slipped my slingshot into my pocket. Maybe I'd use it to scare some Rebs, if they ever did take it into their heads to show up.

For days, folks did little more than stand around the street, sharing rumors. Last night the sky glowed red with flames. Emmitsburg, Maryland, was on fire. Folks were screaming, “The Rebels are coming, and they're burning as they go!”

This morning our neighbor Mr. Pierce came by with the news. “It wasn't the Rebs,” he told us. “Some crazy firebug set his own town ablaze. Can you imagine that?”

I couldn't and I was glad we didn't have anyone like that living in our town. “So the Rebs aren't coming?” I asked.

“Robert E. Lee's cavalry crossed the Potomac and are in Chambersburg,” Mr. Pierce said. His expression was grim.

Grace gasped. “Chambersburg! That's just twenty-five miles from here.”

Mr. Pierce turned to me. “I think it's best you get that horse of yours to a safe hiding place. Your father will need him when he gets back from Washington.”

I already had orders to do that right after lunch, but the last thing I needed was for Grace to get herself into even more of a flap over this latest piece of news.

“Aww, I don't believe they're coming here,” I said. “What would the Rebels want with a place like Gettysburg, Pennsylvania?”

CHAPTER TWO

A Secret Railroad

I
was pleased to get away from the womenfolk for a while. Grace was a student at Mrs. Eyster's Young Ladies Seminary, and as far as I could tell all they taught her was how to be a major irritation. You'd think the world would come to an end if a fellow put his elbows on the table or forgot to use his napkin to wipe his mouth.

Grace had become more and more high-handed since Jacob left. He was five years older than her, and could tease her into giving a fellow a break. I sure missed him. Jacob taught me things and treated me like a man. Grace just ordered me around.

Now that Father, too, was gone she was close to intolerable. You'd think she was in charge of the family.

Today she yelled instructions while I saddled Molasses for the ride to the Bailey farm. Mother had packed me a cold dinner, as it would be a long walk back. With any luck, I'd get something delicious to eat from Mrs. Bailey, too. Her pies were prizewinners.

“You headed out to hide that horse, Will?” Mrs. Shriver asked me as I rode by.

I owned that I was.

“Be careful out there. The Rebs could be anywhere.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. A fellow couldn't get a break from women and their orders wherever he went.

I rode down Baltimore Street and around the town square—we called it the Diamond—on my way to the Carlisle Road. Small clumps of townspeople shared the latest rumors. Some gathered at the newspaper offices. I knew others would be standing around the telegraph at the railroad station. I had done a lot of that when the war first started, waiting for news of Jacob.

As soon as we were out of town, I let Molasses have her lead. She was a good horse, accustomed to going fast when Father had an emergency call to the country. She knew her way to the Bailey place practically better than I did. Before the war started, old Mrs. Bailey used to get sick a lot. Father rode out to their farm two or three times a month.

About eight months before the war began, he headed out there just after supper one night. I went along, sitting beside him in the buggy in the hopes of having a practice game of baseball with Calvin Bailey, old Mrs. Bailey's grandson, before it got too dark. Baseball was the new craze among boys in town, and I wasn't very good yet.

When we got there, Cal was nowhere to be seen. Father bid me to wait in the buggy until someone came to fetch me. I wondered why he was acting so mysterious, but I did as I was told.

I sat for a long time. It was a warm summer night. The stars came out along with a full moon. I heard a barn owl hoot and turned to try to find it. That's when I saw Cal.

“Cal!” I yelled. “Think it's too dark for a game before I go?”

He stopped short, scared like, and that's when I saw there were people behind him. Negroes. Four of them. A man had a white bandage around his arm, bright in the moonlight. A woman put her hand over her mouth. Two children each clutched something. It looked like they were holding the kind of rag dolls Grace was forever making. Father said he carried them to give to sick children. I never imagined he was giving them to runaway slave children.

It pained me to see them act so scared at the sight of me. “Never ... never mind,” I said to Cal. “I see you've got chores.”

Cal nodded. The Negro man's shoulders slumped in relief and the group continued on their way, slipping into the barn. I knew slaves used secret escape routes to make their way north to freedom. Folks called it the Underground Railroad. There were rumors of such in Gettysburg, but this was the first time I knew about it for sure. I was proud of Father for doing his part.

I never spoke of it. Not to Father. Not to Cal. Not to anyone. But I checked Father's medical kit when we got home, and the dolls I knew to be there earlier in the day were gone. The Bailey family suddenly got healthier when the war began. Father stopped making as many trips out to the farm. I guess the war made it too dangerous for most slaves to escape.

Today was another hot summer day, and this time I made the trip without Father. There would be no baseball, either. The Bailey family had even more to protect from the Rebels than we did, so Cal was kept hard at work. The family had to get whatever crops in they could before the Rebs showed up, and hide all their livestock every time some fool said the Rebs were coming.

It was like all the fun had gone out of summer and been replaced by worry. Seemed to me that as long as there was a war on, I should be in it, doing something useful.

I spurred Molasses along. If I didn't get to the farm before Mr. Bailey and Cal left with their own horses, Grace wouldn't stop screeching for a week.

Mrs. Bailey stepped onto her front porch when she heard me coming.

“Are you taking your horses away, Mrs. Bailey?” I asked. “Mother wanted to see if you could take our Molasses, too.”

“You're welcome to leave her with us, Will,” she said. “Our animals are still here, but Mr. Bailey and Cal will ride out with them before too long. We'll keep her out of their hands if we can.”

“Thank you,” I said. “When Father was at home we always kept her with us. We expected even the Rebs would let a doctor keep his horse. But with him in Washington, they'll grab her sure.”

“Any news from your father?” she asked.

I shook my head, then looked around for Cal, or one of the farmhands. “Where is everyone?”

“Out haying. They headed out again right after the noon meal,” she said. “Getting in as much of the crop as we can before the Rebels come. If they come.”

“I don't believe they will,” I said. “Robert E. Lee likes to let us think he's coming just to cause a commotion. He's probably somewhere down in Virginia having a good laugh.”

“Maybe so,” she said. “You get that horse to the barn and then stop by the kitchen for some cherry pie and a cold drink before you leave.”

Just what I was hoping for! “Yes, ma'am,” I told her.

I promised Molasses I'd come back for her as soon as the Rebel threat was proved false. After having my fill of cherry pie, I walked the five miles back to Gettysburg. All along, I imagined what I would do if the Rebels suddenly appeared.

I'd spot them from a distance, and then I'd climb the tallest tree I could find. I'd take aim at the lead soldiers with my slingshot. One, two, three, I'd hit them with rocks right in the middle of their foreheads.

“Turn around, boys!” the officer in command would shout. “I don't know where these bullets are coming from, but we must be outnumbered.”

All three newspapers in town would call me a hero. My name would be splashed across the front page.

With that in mind I filled my pockets with rocks and then climbed a tree to scan the countryside. I saw nothing but farmers working in their fields.

I got home to find the same groups of people on the same corners talking about the same Rebel invasion. The words “bloody and desperate foe” were printed in big letters on the front page of the Democrat newspaper. Both Republican papers carried the same kind of warnings.

The only battle I had was with Grace. She yelled at me for dawdling on my way home and worrying Mother.

CHAPTER THREE

Springing to the Call

 

 

 

T
illie Pierce, who heard it from Mrs. Pierce, who heard it from Mrs. Shriver, told Grace that Gettysburg's young men were down at Buehler's Drug and Bookstore taking the oath to be emergency infantry volunteers. As soon as her back was turned, I snuck up to the garret to get my drumsticks.

I ran down Baltimore Street thinking of how Mother would surely say yes since this was an emergency, especially if I was already signed up.

The flag on the pole in the middle of the Diamond flapped in the breeze. It made my heart swell with pride at the thought of defending the Stars and Stripes. Surely the emergency troops would need a drummer.

Buehler's was on the first block of Chambersburg Street, just off the Diamond. A crowd of college boys and a few Lutheran Seminary men milled around out front, along with some town boys. This was usually where the two sets came to fight, often over some girl. Today they were slapping each other on their backs, acting all jovial. A few strutted around like roosters, trying to catch the eyes of the girls across the street.

The girls stood there in a gaggle. One or two dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs. A couple of them were friends of Grace's, so I ducked my head quick and turned my back to them. I didn't want Grace ruining my plans before Mother had a chance to say yes.

There was a man from Harrisburg in the middle of the volunteers, taking down names. “You all need a drummer?” I asked.

One or two of them smiled at me like I was daft.

I pulled my sticks out of my back pocket. “I have my own copy of
The Drummers' and Fifers' Guide
, and I've been practicing.”

The name-taker eyed me up and down. “How old are you?”

“Almost thirteen,” I said, standing as tall as I could. “The name's Will Edmonds.”

“You have your parents' permission to muster in?” he asked.

I nodded. I figured if I didn't say the words out loud it wasn't quite a lie. Besides, I'd have permission soon.