An Eternity in Gettysburg

An Eternity in Gettysburg

Gettysburg town square, 2015.

Across from the Gettysburg hotel, in the northwest corner, there is a quite acceptable restaurant, sidewalk cafe and all,  in good weather.  I recommend, order the Maryland crabcakes or the crab chilli.  You won't be disappointed.  It's been that good for ......  a hundred years, no, more now, actually. They take Visa and Mastercharge these days, besides gold coin.  They don't seem to frown on paper money anymore.

Over the past century and a half,  I have walked Pickett's Charge from the staging area on Seminary Ridge to the Angle --- takes about 17 minutes.

On moonless, windy nights, I've walked it, when I could sense stirrings, around and just beyond me, then quickly brushing me as they passed.  On hazy, warm, misty sunrise mornings, I've walked it.  When all of creation seemed to reside in only myself.  I've walked it in the noon day sun, when  the odd child or two turned their head quickly, thinking they'd seen me --- seen something and rush to momma.

Good Christ, did those Rebs have some ............  in a century and a half, I've never been able to finish that sentence.
They knew they were about to step into eternity and they went anyway.  By the time the survivors reached the Angle, we had to call up re-enforcements to repel them.  They were late in coming and fiercely inept on their arrival, yet, somehow, we prevailed.

Even though we had been firing from superior enfilade and defilade positions, our regiment, like those on our left and right, well trained by combat  experience,  especially we of us surviving Fredericksburg and our own leadership, were taking a toll;  but, not nearly enough.

We were all damn good shots.  And they still kept coming.

Our artillery, initiating the slaughter further out took its toll.  Yet, those Virginia boys kept coming.  God, I love them so ....  fear them so.  Laughed with many of them in more human surroundings --- weddings, baptisms and such.  Cried with them, held them, at wakes.  The severity of a child's wake cuts as deep here in Virginia as in Pennsylvania.  I hold and console my Virginia kin in their most despairing moments.

You see, even though I am a Pennsylvania boy, I have kin in Virginia.  So, does my wife.  Oh, yes, the very good railroad system allows us frequent enough visits --- family occasions.  These are modern times, no doubt.  We have a railway as good as Great Britain, so I'm told.  But to move at such speed is dizzying.  Makes astride a galloping horse seem like old age with a cane.  My only regret is I can't ride alongside the engineer of this marvel.  Maybe, take a turn at the reins.

As the enemy draws down on us, I can't help recall the frequent, heated arguments we would fall into, needing the women folk to pull us back from permanent regret.  "The united States are......",  my Virginia kin would stand and rise to.  Being a guest, I would quietly respond, "The United States is......".  Why should that create such fury?

Our artillery scythed them.  Goddam artillery, strikes from afar --- so far away.  Cowardly?  What does that make me?  Their pain could be heard that far away.  They kept coming.  Our infantry were set and  keen to repay Fredericksburg.  So was I.

With my Henry 44 caliber, modified to my specifications by the finiest gunsmith in Philadelphia,  lengthen the barrel, yet, retain the center of balance, a finer machining of the rifling, stronger alloys for the triggering mechanism --- it was a brand new rifle.  And using a special grain cartridge,  I was dropping Rebs three hundred fifty yards out.  I had qualified as a sharpshooter with a  Sharps at 10 shots in a 10 inch circle at 200 yards.  Rockin' chair living.  I always could hit things with my eye, even as a little boy.  Whether I wanted to was another matter.

Reb sharpshooters were some of the best I'd ever seen.  Someone, I heard say something earlier about ..... from Texas.  They were the ones I was trying to get to first.

Thank God, they stand out apart.  Do they  know that?  Well I guess I'll show them.  Drop another one before the report is heard.  And with young Nate as my spotter using binoculars, I was getting to them first.  We'd have to move position, soon, real soon.
Just to dismay them, when I couldn't find a sharpshooter, I was dropping their skirmishers --- too easy.  It felt a little like murder.  Yet, it had no effect.  They kept coming.

The chanting along the stone wall  was eerie, "Fredericksburg ........ Fredericksburg ..... Fredericksburg ........"

As they closed, we couldn't kill them fast enough.  They were now, too close, for the need of a sharpshooter.  It was time --- large bore and fix bayonets.  I joined the line at the wall.

We were taking our own casualties.  The confederate artillery zeroed in pretty good with air bursts.  You just had to ignore all that and keep firing.  The pounding in my ears was my own heart beating.

Panic set in.  I wanted to run away.  Run away home.  I just wanted to go home.  I've had my fill of this madness.  I lived, but, twenty miles from here ........ if I ran away, the Rebs would only follow me home.
I looked wildly to the man to my right and left --- I saw panic there, too.  Something else I saw --- a resolute stare.  Both, at once, in that moment.
That 'thousand yard' stare, we joked about around the campfires at night.  Go to any campfire, you'd hear it come up.  Many of our officers gave us less credit than we deserved.  Some, the ones who shared our campfires, we'd follow anywhere in bright daylight under heavy fire.

I was chanting, "Fredericksburg", with everyone else.  I had to steady all that --- to keep my aim true.  I had maybe five or six pieces of hot shrapnel in me ......  that I could feel.

I understood, yet, still did not know why.  I get that those Rebs weren't fighting to defend slavery --- hell, there probably wasn't a one among them who could afford owning a slave.  I know none of my Virginia kin could.  In fact, they opposed slavery --- just didn't do anything about it.  Just like I opposed slavery --- just didn't do anything about it.  They were fighting against their homes invaded by us damn Yankees. The Virginia boys always seemed to be the ones who fought the hardest.

The moment came.

The Rebs pouring over the wall --- at the Angle.  No one had time to reload.  Not us.  Not them.  It is now hand-to-hand.  Bayonets, rifle butts, fists.  Our chanting stops.  All I hear are screams, curses, moans --- the pounding in my ears.  I do not fear the Reb in front of me.  In the melee, I fear the Reb behind me.  I fight in every direction, using everything I know about the bayonet.
Thank God, the Reb artillery stopped.  We're pushed back.  Our re-enforcements rush up --- the only ones with loaded chambers.  They volley.  Those of us not hit rush forward.

We finally repel the Rebs.

They withdraw in an orderly, if exhausted retreat, what was left of them --- there was no fleeing.  In retreat,  they were attempting to gather up their wounded.
The colonel galloped up and down the line bellowing, "cease fire! cease fire! Allow them to take their wounded, lads".

One jackass down the line disobeyed, kept firing into their backs as they stumbled away with their wounded in their arms.  His sergeant ran up to him, knocked him unconscious with the butt of his rifle.  The sergeants in our regiment don't repeat orders.  They enforce them.

A great cheer went up all down the line.  At first, I thought it was for our victory.  Then I saw it was for the Rebs.  I, too, cheer loudly.  Filled with elation, tears streaming my face, gasping with sobs, cheering.  The pounding in my ears subsiding.  I can actually hear what someone is saying to me. The cheer sustained for the longest time, until the Rebs were out of musket range, then rifle range, then sharpshooter range --- my range.  As if, protecting them.

My elation begins to subside before the others.  Suddenly, I'm aware of how tired I am.  My strength feels draining away.  I feel so weary.  I need to sit.  My musket slips from my hands .... not my musket.  I picked it up, in the fray.  Where is my Henry.  Bring me my Henry.  It's just a thought, I say nothing.  I am so tired....so weary, so heavy burden weary.  I did not intend this.  I'm a little surprised --- I did not intend this.  I may still need it ...  where is it ... where is my Henry?

Little Nate, I hear say, "it's right here".

So, it's not a dream, not delirium.  I'm speaking words.

I feel so weary.

I need to sit. I hit the ground harder than expected.  My intention of leaning against the wall falls naught.  I fall on my side.

My sergeant rushes to me.  Grabs my chest.  Pulls me upright.  I hear myself saying, "I need to sit upright, against the wall."

I feel his hands .... everywhere.  I hear his voice, "Lieutenant...Lieutenant! Help. We need help here."

I hear everything clearly as I feel myself as if falling softly, gently.

Nate, "none of his wounds appear mortal".

I hear the sergeant say, "there are so many of them.  He's lost alot of blood".

Nate, ''did you see him ... how he led the counterattack?"

"Aye, lad.  That I did.  He was truly grand.  He rallied everyone", he stifles a laugh, "even me".

Nate, "can you do anything for him, sergeant?"

"You saw the Lieutenant ride off at a gallop.  Even if he were to return this instant with the regimental surgeon and his entire staff.  They maybe could stop all the bleeding.  How do they replace all this blood loss?  I'm sorry lad.  So, sorry. I can't stop this bleeding."

I feel so weary, I need sleep.  I just need some sleep.  I would so love to embrace my wife once again, forever, actually.  She so makes me laugh and feel joy.  I see her face so sharply.  The warm smile spreading on her face as I fall asleep.

What is it I feel walking this ground?

Why do I walk this ground? 

It's taken a century and a half to dawn.

I feel ashamed and proud all in the same moment.......  I sense this is my last time walking this ground.