The afternoon of the 30th of June found the advance at the little town of Greenvillage, six miles from Chambersburg, where we filed to the left and took a country road, as we supposed, in search of suitable ground on which to encamp for the night. At length we halted in a beautiful field, close by which there was wood and water in abundance.
An hour or two after our arrival, Lieut. Col. Herbert and myself visited brigade headquarters for the purpose of learning, if possible, the reason for the retrograde movement, and the probabilities of our returning to Virginia without a fight.
We found the General agreeable and affable as usual, and with him the gallant Colonels Warren, Walton, and Parsley, of the brigade. They were discussing the very subjects upon which we wished so much to gain some information, and we listened attentively.
Walton seemed much annoyed, and in his blunt and earnest manner expressed great disappointment at the result so far of the second invasion of the enemy’s country.
“I am as much in the dark as any of you, gentlemen,” said the General; “but I do not agree with you in the supposition that we are to recross the Potomac without a great battle. The result of that battle will determine our future movements. We will pursue this road on the morrow, most assuredly, but where this road will lead us to is a question I cannot solve. Hill and Longstreet are in advance of us; Rhodes is, or was, at Carlisle; Early is supposed to be in the neighborhood of York; and that we are converging toward some given point is very evident, but of the whereabouts of that point I am totally ignorant.”
In my youth I had more than once travelled almost every road in York, Adams, and Franklin counties, and was therefore familiar with them all. From the General’s remarks it instantly flashed across my mind that we were about to move on Baltimore and Washington. That I had discovered the designs of General Lee I did not doubt for amoment, and looking wondrous wise during the rest of the conference, I determined to keep my own counsel until the next morning, when I would surprise my brother officers by unfolding to them what I was confident must be the reason for this countermarch. How near I was to the truth the reader will see.
The dawn of the first day of July broke bright and beautiful; and, as I watched the glorious sun rise majestically in the cloudless sky, I little thought its decline would inaugurate one of the most dreadful battles of the century, and usher into eternity the souls of hundreds of my fellow-men, who die engaged in deadly strife.
At seven o’clock the march was resumed; and when it became apparent we were not yet to seek Virginia’s sod, a spirit of enthusiasm diffused itself throughout the command which could hardly be controlled. Poor fellows, little did they then think a few hours more would see thousands of them stretched stark and stiff, and wounded and dying upon the gory field of Gettysburg.
“Captain Murray, I will lay you a wager,” was my exclamation as I rode to the side of that gallant young officer. “I will wager you my last ten in Confederate currency that we will see Washington’s Monument in Baltimore in so many days. Come, do you take the bet?”
Raising his eyes, he looked at me with an expression which seemed to say as plain as he could speak, “Are you jesting, or are you a fool?” and then broke out into a hearty laugh.
“If I did not know you and the Colonel were at headquarters last evening, I would be inclined to believe you had partaken of some of the proceeds of Commissary John Howard’s successful raid of yesterday,” he replied.
“But I do not know anything of Captain Howard’s raid or what he captured,” I somewhat petulantly rejoined, for I did not like the idea of my great secret being treated with such indifference; “and I moreover assure you I am altogether in earnest. Now listen, and I will convince you I am right: You know that Longstreet and Hill are in advance of us, and I will inform you that Rhodes has left Carlisle, and Early is at York. Well, from York there is a turnpike to Baltimore, as you are aware. Early will take that road and operate upon the line of the Northern Central Railroad. There are two fine turnpikes also from Gettysburg (whither we are going, as this road can lead us nowhere else,) to Baltimore, the one passing through Littlestown, Westminster, &c., the other by the way of Hanover and Manchester to Reisterstown, sixteen miles from the city, where the two meet. Rhodes will join us at Gettysburg, and the whole army, with the exception of Early, will take these parallel turnpikes and reach Reisterstown simultaneously, for the distance is the same. Rest assured all this marching and countermarching was for the purpose of misleading Hooker; and now that General Lee has him out of the way, he intends to slip into Baltimore and Washington before he can discover his error.”
I believe my reasoning made some impression; but not being of so sanguine a temperament as myself, he was far from being fully convinced. How far right and how far wrong I was in my conjectures the sequel proved. It was not my first attempt to penetrate the designs of my commander-in-chief, but I determined it should be my last.
After a rapid march of a few hours the column reached the town of Fayetteville, through which we passed without a halt. Shortly after, the troops of Longstreet’s corps were encountered, quietly cooking their rations in a wood close by the roadside. These veterans—scarcely a man of whom did not carry the scars of some hard fought field—suspended their labors and closely scrutinized us as we passed by. How it made my heart thrill with pleasurable emotions as I heard the compliments they bestowed with no sparing hand upon the splendid command to which I had the honor of belonging. By the tap of the drum they moved like machinery, and with that quick, nervous step and precision for which they were so justly celebrated throughout the entire army.
“Look out for your laurels, Fourth Texas,” I heard an officer exclaim in that regiment of imperishable renown, “for if I mistake not there goes a little battalion that will give you a tug for your next wreath.” And similar remarks were heard on every side.
On we pressed, and rapidly neared the town ofGettysburg. But eight miles more, and we will encamp for the night upon its outskirts.
But what means this commotion ahead? Something is out, most assuredly. The order passes along the line to “Move up, men, move up.”
“Dr. Snowden,” I remarked to the surgeon of the battalion, who was riding by my side, “I have imagined for some minutes that I heard the sound of artillery ahead, and from the confusion among the staff officers I am half convinced I did.”
“I was about to remark the same,” the Doctor replied. “There it is again, and there, and there,” he continued, as so many sounds of artillery were distinctly heard. “But here comes the Colonel, perhaps he can enlighten us.”
As Colonel Herbert approached I could see from his manner that something was wrong. Addressing me, he said:
“You will keep your men well up, sir; no straggling under any circumstances. There is serious work going on ahead, and it is likely we will be into it in less than three hours. The orders are to press forward with all dispatch.”
The words were overheard by some of the men, and the news ran through the battalion like wild fire. One prolonged yell announced it to the other regiments and brigades, and for a minute the welkin fairly rung with their joyous shouts. More distinct at every step became the roar of artillery, and we knew from the incessant discharges that the fight was a fierce one.
I must confess I was puzzled, completely nonplussed. Who had dreamed of the enemy being in that quarter? I will venture to say not an officer of the army outside the corps commanders, and perhaps their respective staffs. And I do not believe they, or even General Lee himself, expected forty-eight hours previous to encounter him there. A dreadful blunder somewhere, but where I will leave it for the historian to tell.
“How about that nice little trip to Baltimore and Washington, and those parallel turnpikes, now,” said Captain Murray addressing me. “Ah, that was a beautifully arranged affair, I must confess; but there seems to be obstacles in the way of its fulfillment.”
“And the ten dollars,” chimed in Torsch. “It will buy a pint of Monegahaly, as the people hereabouts call it. Yes, we’ll take that ten when we reach Gettysburg. We will, won’t we, Cap?”
I acknowledged my plans had miscarried, which was all owing to the enemy’s getting betwixt us and Washington’s monument; but that I was still somewhat inclined to believe it was only a small force of the enemy who had stumbled upon our advance. And this belief seemed to be strengthened as we neared the battle-field, for the discharges of artillery were not now near so rapid as they had been an hour or two before.
About two miles from Gettysburg we passed a farm house by the roadside, which had been convertedinto a hospital and filled with our wounded, as was also the yard. A little farther on a great many ambulances were encountered, well freighted with torn and bleeding men, and directly a long line of the more slightly wounded, all making their way to the rear in search of surgical aid. From these we learned the fight had been a desperate one, and the casualties numerous on both sides; but that we had been successful at every point. A little farther and we filed to the left to avoid attracting the fire of the enemy’s artillery, which was still being served, but slowly.
Passing a large field, in which were several thousand Federal prisoners, we were directly upon the battle ground. The evidences here gave most unmistakable testimony of a stubbornly-contested battle, as the ground was covered with the dead—blue and gray side by side. In and around the railroad cut dug by Thad. Stevens many years since, the slaughter of the Federal troops was appalling. They literally lay in heaps, whilst our loss at this point appeared comparatively small.
We here learned that portions of Ewell’s and Hill’s corps had encountered a heavy force under General Reynolds, and that he himself was among the killed. Our own loss had been by no means slight. Besides a large number in killed and wounded, General James Archer and almost his entire brigade had been made prisoners.
It was nearly dark when we entered the town;and, halting in one of the streets to await orders, the troops stretched themselves upon the ground to rest their weary limbs. Having some acquaintances in the place, and feeling rather hungered, I suggested to Colonel Herbert that we should go up to Will’s hotel, where I thought we could procure some refreshments; but upon reaching the place we found it closed and apparently deserted. Returning, I met a gentleman whom I had known in former years—Mr. Henry Stahle, editor and proprietor of a Democratic paper there—and we entered into conversation upon topics entirely foreign to the war. A crowd of gaping citizens soon surrounded us, and imagining Mr. Stahle was hatching treason, forthwith reported him to the authorities. Now, as Mr. Stahle had been suspected of being a copperhead for some time, owing to the manly and independent tone of his paper, his being seen in company with a rebel officer was proof positive, and when our forces fell back he was handed over to the tender mercies of General Morris, of Fort McHenry notoriety. I trust the reader will excuse this little digression, but I thought the incident worth mentioning.
About nine o’clock we received orders to “forward,” and, passing through the town, struck the York turnpike, which was pursued for a mile, when we filed to the right and marched across the open country until we neared the Hanover road, when the command “on right by file into line” was given, (for we had been marching right in front,)and the Second Maryland Infantry took its place in the line of battle, where so many of the noble spirits who composed it were to bleed and die in the dreadful conflict about to ensue.