The Battle of Gettysburg: the behavior of the townspeople through the eyes of a young girl

Part 5 in a series of posts regarding the behavior of the citizends of Gettysburg before, during, and after the great battle. In this entry we hear from Matilda J. "Tillie" Pierce Alleman who was 15 years old at the time of the historic event. In her book "At Gettysburg: or, what a girl saw and heard of the battle", young Tillie Pierce writes:

My native townsmen, during that terrible struggle, acted as patriotic and bravely as it was possible for citizens to act, who had suddenly thrust upon them the most gigantic battle of modern times.

They had none of the weapons or munitions of war; they were not drilled and were totally unprepared for such an unthoughtof experience, They were civilians.

Long before had many of their sons and brothers gone to the front, and those who still remained were as true to the Union as those found at home in the other towns of the North.

Upon the first rumor of the rebel invasion, Major Robert Bell, a citizen of the place, recruited a company of cavalry from the town and surrounding country.

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A company of infantry was also formed from the students and citizens of the place which was mustered into Col. Wm. Jennings' regiment of Pennsylvania Emergency Troops.

This regiment, on June 26th, was the first to encounter and exchange shots with the invaders of 1863. Though inexperienced, the stand they made, and the valor they displayed before an overwhelming force, cannot fail in placing the loyalty and bravery of her citizens in the foremost rank.

Opportunity was offered a few, who like old John Burns, went into the fray. To some like Professors Jacobs and Stower, came the occasion of explaining and pointing out to the Union officers the impregnable positions of the locality, and by this means insuring victory to our arms.

To others was given the oppottunity of concealing in their homes the brave Union boys who had been wounded in the first day's fight, who, in their retreat, had sought shelter in the house they could first reach, and there were Compelled to remain, within the Confederate lines, during the remainder of the battle.

Many a Union soldier would have gone to "Libby" or "Andersonville" had it not been for the loyalty and bravery of some of the citizens in thus secreting them.

To all was presented the opportunity of caring for the wounded and dying after the battle had passed, and nobly and feebly did they administer the tender and loving acts of charity even in their own homes as well as upon the field - and in the hospital.

Let those disposed to cavil and doubt the patriotism of the citizens of Gettysburg at the time of the battle forever cease, for what I have written is correct.

True it is there were a few who sympathized with the South just as in other Northern towns, but it would be unjust and unreasonable to condemn the many for the misdeeds of the few.

Battle of Gettysburg: John Burns strikes again?

In an earlier post we discussed John Burns, the "citizen soldier" who at the Battle of Gettysburg picked up his musket in defense of his hearth and home. Now, hidden amongst the pages of A.P. Smith's History of the Seventy-sixth Regiment New York Volunteers we find this reference:

"As the regiments were pushing forward, before the fighting commenced, a gray-haired man, sixty years of age, rushed across the fields, gun in hand, and attempted to reach the front; but being unable to overtake the Seventy-sixth New York, he fell in with the Fifty-sixth Pennsylvania, and fought with that Regiment all day. Had all the residents of Gettysburg been equally patriotic and courageous, the result of the first day's fighting might have been more disheartening to the South, and rendered the terrible fighting of the next two days unnecessary."

Hunger on the march from Gettysburg: "I don't think I should have lived without that bread"

Everyday citizens often lined the streets as troops marched through their towns. Many of these citizens willingly opened their homes to the soldiers and offered food and water.

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In the November 11, 1883 edition of the New York Times appeared the following entry from a Main soldier's diary. In this diary entry, the fallen soldier describes the kindness and bravery of a Martinsburg, WV woman who offered bread to the hungry despite the dire circumstances. He writes:

"I was taken prisoner July 3 at the Battle of Gettysburg. The smoke of that battle shut in and the grey enveloped us, and when the night came I was a prisoner in the rebel ranks. July 4 they drew us up in line. There were 4,000 of us. At early morning the command was given that the line start for Richmond, Va. -- the heart of rebeldom. We were all tired and thirsty and hungry, many of us were wounded, and it was under the hot summer sky of midsummer. We marched from the field of Gettysburg that day to the borders of the Potomac -- a long and weary march. That night we settled down on the banks of the river. The river ran high, the bridge had been destroyed, and we waited for the arrival of the pontoons and the consequent transportation across. Every one was hungry."

"I was hungrier than I ever was before, though not hungrier than I was subsequently during the war. The word was sent in among us announcing that there was nothing to eat on this side of the river, but that rations would be distributed when we had crossed. We were kept two days on this side of the river before a passage was made. Some of the men, as I well know, didn't get a scrap of food for two days. Most of them, I know, were kept alive through hope, and all of us were promised a plenty of rations across the river. Some of the boys did 'cross the river' before the pontoons came, and numbers died along the shore. The hunger of the men was terrible. I remember well on the afternoon of the second day that a squad of officers with small bags of biscuits came down among us and tossed the biscuits into the air for fun. Hats would go into the air and men would fight each other for the bread like a parcel of wolves. It was one of the most startling sights I remember of the war."

"We got across the Potomac the second day in boats. The day was tremendously hot, and our line of men, as I well know, was very weak, and many of them badly wounded. When the line was drawn up across the river the announcement came to us that there was no supply of food and that no rations could be distributed until the line reached Martinsburg. Martinsburg was 12 miles distant, and so we marched 12 miles further. The people of the town of Martinsburg were loyal people mostly. It was a loyal section and the people had heard of our coming. The fires had been built, and the kitchen ovens had turned out loaves and loaves of bread in anticipation of the march of the Union prisoners through the town."

Just outside the thick cluster of houses the line was drawn together. Guards were laced along both sides of the line, and we were to be prevented from making breaks from the ranks. The line marched through the city. I well remember one house and one woman. I would know her if I should see her to-day anywhere. She lived in a house with a high pair of steps leading down into a front yard with thick trees and a high fence and gate. I saw her come down the steps into the yard. she had her arms full of loaves of bread. She looked the way I always thought Barbara Frietchie must have looked. She beckoned, and a half dozen of us, getting a chance, made a break. We reached the fence and she shoved the bread out over the gate. The rest of the boys couldn't stand it and a dozen more made a break. The guards came along and cracked the muskets. 'Into the ranks or we'll shoot', said they, and then the officer in command shouted, 'Don't shoot them, shoot that damned old woman', and the guard pointed his musket in her face and the crowd fell back. For reply, the woman shoved another loaf of bread out through the gate. 'Eat it boys', said she, 'and may God bless you.' And, Sir, that woman never budged and never winked, and that guard never took down his musket out of shame, and the Union boys gave a cheer for the woman and were driven back into the ranks. I don't think I should have lived without that bread."

Battle of Gettysburg: a defense of the behavior of the townspeople

Part 2 in a series of posts on the behavior of the townspeople at the Battle of Gettysburg.

Below, we hear from H. M. M. Richards, a member of the 26th regiment of the Pennsylvania volunteers. Richards disputes the assertions that the citizens of Gettysburg behaved in an unpatriotic manner. He writes:

FOR twenty-three years we have heard it asserted that the people of Gettysburg were lacking in patriotism because they did not spring to arms en masse, and assist in repelling the invaders. I am glad to see in your November issue that a correspondent cites young Weakley, in addition to old John Burns, as another who volunteered in the defense of his home during the battle ; but he prefaces his article with the old assertion.

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The purpose of this communication is to state that, upon the first indication of an invasion of Pennsylvania, the Twenty-sixth Regiment, P.V.M., was organized and mustered into the United States service at Harrisburg, under the command of Colonel W. W. Jennings of that city. Company A of this regiment, to which I had the honor of belonging, was composed partly of students from the Lutheran Theological Seminary of Gettysburg, partly of students from the Pennsylvania College at the same place, and partly of citizens of Gettysburg ; one other company came from Hanover, but a few miles distant. We were the first militia troops to oppose the entrance of the Confederates into the State.

On June 23d we left Harrisburg for Gettysburg, to be used, I believe, as riflemen amongst the hills near Cashtown. A railroad accident prevented this plan from being carried into effect, and us from reaching Gettysburg, until the 26th, by which time General Early had passed that point. In accordance with orders received from Major Granville O. Haller, in command of the post, we were marched out on the Chambersburg pike at ten A. M., June 26th, for a distance of about three and a half miles, accompanied by Major Robert Bell, who commanded a troop of horse, also raised, I understand, in Gettysburg. Having halted, our colonel, accompanied by Major Bell, rode to the brow of an elevation distant several hundred yards, and there saw General Early's troops advancing in force, but a few minutes distant. This officer, knowing of our presence but anticipating a still larger force, says in his official report: "I sent General Gordon with his brigade and White's battalion of cavalry on the pike through Cashtown towards Gettysburg, and moved with the rest of the command to the left through Hilltown to Mummasburg. . . . The object of this movement was for Gordon to amuse and skirmish with the enemy while I should get on his flank and rear so as to capture his whole force." We, a few hundred men at the most, were in the toils : what should be done ? We would gladly have marched to join the Army of the Potomac, under Meade, but where were they? Our colonel, left to his own resources, wisely decided to make an effort to return to Harrisburg, and immediately struck off from the pike, the Confederates capturing many of our rear-guard after a sharp skirmish, and sending their cavalry in pursuit of us. These latter overtook us in the afternoon at Witmer's house, about four and a half miles from Gettysburg by the Carlisle road, where after an engagement they were repulsed with some loss. I have narrated enough for my purpose, and will only add that, after many vicissitudes, we finally reached Harrisburg, having marched fifty-four out of sixty consecutive hours, with a loss of some two hundred men.

I can recall no instance in our civil war where the people of a town rose in a body, or in any numbers, to aid their troops in driving out the enemy. Now, in view of the fact that Gettysburg, small town as it then was, furnished its quota of brave men who were then in the army serving their several terms of enlistment; and that from it and its immediate vicinity were raised promptly two, if not three, companies of men in defense of their State; that one of its oldest as well as one of its youngest citizens took up arms for the same purpose and aided in the battle; that hundreds of the unfortunate men of Reynolds's gallant corps were secreted, sheltered, fed, and aided in every way by the men and women of Gettysburg when they were hurled back through its streets, as I know from personal communication with them — I say, in view of these facts, let us give these people the credit that belongs to them instead of casting continued reflections upon their actions. I can the more justly give my opinion in this matter because I was the only member of our company who did not belong to Gettysburg. I went to Harrisburg to be mustered in with the others because my brother, then a student in the Seminary, was amongst them.

READING, PA. Nov. 2, 1886. H. M. M. Richards.

Daniel Skelly: a boy's experiences during the battle of Gettysburg

[Note: Daniel Skelly was a Gettysburg teenager in 1863, employed as a clerk at a Gettysburg dry goods company. His experiences during the three days of the Battle of Gettysburg were exciting and unique. After retirement, Skelly wrote about his experiences as a young boy in a town filled with the sights and sounds of a war which, up to this point, had been very far away. He saw and met several famous people during the three days of battle, spoke with Confederate soldiers camped on the streets outside of his home, and afterward helped aid the wounded that filled the homes and churches in town. Published in 1932, A Boy's Experiences During The Battle of Gettysburg, is one of the more outstanding civilian accounts of the battle, from the perspective of an old gentleman who witnessed the true nature of war with its devastation and heartache, for the first time in his home town.]

"The month of June, 1863, was an exciting one for the people of Gettysburg and vicinity. Rumors of the invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate army were rife and toward the latter part of the month there was the daily sight of people from along the border of Maryland passing through the town with horses and cattle, to places of safety.More... Most of the merchants of the town shipped their goods to Philadelphia for safety, as was their habit all through the war upon rumors of the Confederates crossing the Potomac. The merchandising firm in whose employ I had been for a number of years (Fahnestock Brothers) kept a car chartered and whenever these rumors reached us, day or night, we packed up the goods and sent it to Philadelphia and went out of business for the time being, until matters became settled again along the border, when the stock was brought back and we resumed our routine.

"I was absent from Gettysburg… from the beginning of June until the latter part of the month. I reached Hanover, Pa., on the afternoon of (June 26), expecting to get a train for home from there the same evening. But about 5 o'clock the last train out of Gettysburg, until after the battle, reached Hanover filled with people getting away from the Confederates. They included revenue officers and clerks, in fact all persons who had any office under the government.

"Early's Division had occupied Gettysburg that day and made demands upon the town which were not complied with. Consequently I was obliged to remain in Hanover all night. On the morning of June 27 White's Confederate cavalry passed through Hanover and remained long enough to get some packages from the express office, one of which was for my firm and which I saw them open. It contained gloves. They appropriated them. They also captured a jeweler with his stock loaded in a wagon, who was a little late in getting started out of town, and appropriated his stock also. On the afternoon of this day, Thaddeus Slentz, Edward Craver and myself secured a hand-car and started for Gettysburg on the Gettysburg and Hanover railroad, but when we reached New Oxford we found the bridge over the Conewago Creek had been burned. So we were obliged to abandon the car and walk the remaining ten miles to Gettysburg, reaching there about 5 P.M.

"The 28th and 29th were exciting days in Gettysburg for we knew the Confederate army, or a part of it at least, was within a few miles of our town and at night we could see from the house-tops the campfires in the mountains eight miles west of us. We expected it to march into our town at any moment and we had no information as to the whereabouts of the Army of the Potomac. We little dreamed of the momentous events which were soon to happen right in our midst.

"On June 30th two brigades of General Buford's division of cavalry reached our town, coming in from the south and I well remember how secure this made us feel. We thought surely now we were safe and the Confederate army would never reach Gettysburg. On the afternoon of this day about 4 o'clock, I stood on the Cobean corner on Chambersburg Street… while General Buford sat on his horse in the street in front of me, entirely alone, facing to the west in profound thought. I remember this incident very distinctly for it made a deep impression on (me). It was the only time I ever saw the general and his calm demeanor and soldierly appearance, as well as the fact that his uniform was different from any general's I had ever seen. He wore a sort of hunting coat of blouse effect. On the night of the 30th, the people of Gettysburg settled down in their homes with a sense of security they had not enjoyed for days and with little thought of what the morrow had in store for them.

"On the morning of July 1, about 8 o'clock, in company of my old friend Samuel W. Anderson… I walked out the Mummasburg Road north of the town just a short distance beyond the college building, where lay encamped in the fields, Col. Deven's Brigade of Buford's Division… which with Gamble's Brigade of the same division had come into our town on the previous day. While we stood at Col. Deven's tent an order was handed him… directing him to move his brigade west of the town, as the Confederates were then advancing on the town by the Chambersburg Pike. My companion and I went directly across the fields to Seminary Ridge, then known as the Railroad Woods by reason of the 'Old Tape-worm Railroad' being cut through it. Anderson went toward the Theological Seminary buildings expecting to get (to) the cupola of the building. I remained on Seminary Ridge just where the old… railroad cut through it. The ridge was full of men and boys from town, all eager to witness a brush with the Confederates and not dreaming of the terrible conflict that was to occur on that day and not having the slightest conception of the proximity of the two armies.

"I climbed up a good-sized oak tree so as to have a good view of the ridge west and northwest of us, where the two brigades of cavalry were then being placed. We could then hear distinctly the skirmish fire in the vicinity of Marsh Creek, about three miles from our position and could tell that it was approaching nearer and nearer as our skirmishers fell back slowly toward the town contesting every inch of ground. We could see clearly on the ridge … the formation of the line of battle of Buford's Cavalry, which had dismounted, some of the men taking charge of the horses and the others forming a line of battle, acting as infantry. Nearer and nearer came the skirmish line as it fell back before the advancing Confederates, until at last the line on the ridge beyond became engaged. Soon the artillery opened fire and shot and shell began to fly over our heads, one of them passing dangerously near the top of the tree I was on. There was a general stampede toward town and I quickly slipped down from my perch and joined the retreat to the rear of our gallant men and boys. I started for town (and) crossed… over a field to the Chambersburg Pike on the east side of Miss Carrie Shead's School and when about the middle of the field a cannon ball struck the earth about fifteen or twenty feet from me, scattering the ground somewhat about me and quickening my pace considerably.

"When I reached the pike, there galloped past me a general and his staff, who upon reaching the top of the ridge, turned into the lane toward the Seminary building. This I have always believed was General Reynolds coming onto the field and going to the Seminary where he had an interview with General Buford… before going out where the battle was in progress. The time was about 9 o'clock or near it, and our infantry had not come up yet. I was not long in reaching town and found the streets full of men, women and children, all under great excitement. Being anxious to see more of the battle, I concluded I would go up upon the observatory on the store building of the Fahnestock Brothers, situated on the northwest corner of Baltimore and West Middle Streets, and just across the street from the court house. The observatory was on the back of the building fronting on West Middle Street and… had a good view of the field where the battle was then being fought.

"In company with Mrs. E.G. Fahnestock, wife of Col. Fahnestock, Isaac L. Johns and Augustus Bentley, I went up through the store to the observatory… (that) had a railing and benches around it and was about eight feet or more square. We had been up there quite a little time when I observed a general and his staff coming down Baltimore Street from the south of the town. Upon reaching the court house, they halted and made an attempt to get up into the belfry to make observations, but they were unable to accomplish this. I went down into the street and going over to the court house told them that if they wished they could go up on the observatory of the store building. The general dismounted and with two of his aides went with me up onto the observatory. Upon reaching the house-top, the general, with his field glasses, made a careful survey of the field west and northwest of the town; also the number of roads radiating like the spokes of a wheel from the town.

In the midst of it a scout came riding up West Middle Street at a full gallop, halted below us (and) called up, asking if General Howard (Gen. Oliver Otis Howard, commander of the Eleventh Corps of the Army of the Potomac) were there. General Howard answering in person, the scout called to him that General Reynolds had been killed and that he should come onto the field immediately. This scout was George Guinn, a member of Cole's Maryland Cavalry, and was from our county. I knew him well and recognized him at once. Upon receiving this message the General, his staff officers and myself went down into the third story ware-room, when General Howard stopped and gave orders to one of his aides to ride back and meet his corps, which was then on the march from Emmitsburg, Md., ten miles from Gettysburg, and direct General (Adolph von) Steinwehr, upon reaching the field to occupy Cemetery Hill and fortify it. General Howard, as he came into Gettysburg, had noticed the prominence of this hill, and riding up to the cemetery was impressed with its commanding position. To his other aide he gave some directions regarding the bringing up of his corps. One thing which he said that I remember, was that the bands should be placed at the head of the columns and play lively airs as they advanced. General Howard was perfectly calm and self-possessed and I remember this made a lasting impression on me. And his orders became so fixed on my mind that I have never forgotten them.

"As we passed down through the house, we met Mrs. Samuel Fahnestock, then an old lady, who was very much agitated. The General stopped and spoke a few kindly words to her, which relieved her anxiety considerably. He then rode out to the front. After some little time had elapsed we heard a commotion down in the street (West Middle) and upon looking down saw a column of Confederate prisoners under guard of the Boys in Blue, being conducted to the rear. It proved to be the Confederate General Archer and several hundred of his brigade who had been captured by the Iron Brigade. We remained on the house-top until near noon, when it became a little dangerous to stay longer and we went downstairs again. But shortly after 12 o'clock another officer came along and asked to be taken up where General Howard had made his observations. He was a captain and belonged to the Eleventh Corps (and) remained only a short time. I learned after the battle that this officer's name was Frederick Otto Baron Von Fritche, and that he had written a book entitled "A Gallant Captain of the Civil War", in which he made mention of my taking him up on the roof and giving him some information in regard to the field and the battle then going on.

"After he had gone I walked down to our Centre Square and there met my mother carrying two buckets of water, looking for one of the improvised hospitals, to give it to the wounded. It was a striking irony of war that at that time two of my brothers, members of Company F, 87th Pennsylvania regiment, should be prisoners of war, having been captured at Winchester, Va., in an engagement while the Confederate army was on its way to Gettysburg. One of them was mortally wounded and in a southern hospital but a kind Providence withheld this from us until after the battle here. We went down Carlisle Street to the McCurdy warehouse, just below the railroad, where the wounded were being brought in… No provision had yet been made for their care in the town and they were laid on the floor. We remained there quite a while giving them water and doing what we could for their relief.

"I stood on the Cobean corner of Chambersburg Street as Schimmelfenning's Division of the Eleventh (Corps) passed through town on its way to the front. The day was hot and sultry and they were marching "quick time", all seeming eager to get to the front. All along Washington Street the people of the town were out with buckets of water and the soldiers would stop for a moment for a drink and then hurriedly catch up to their place in the line. They appeared to be straining every effort to reach the scene of conflict, and yet not an hour elapsed before the slightly wounded were limping back and those badly wounded were being brought back in ambulances to the improvised hospitals in the town. The hospitals were located in warehouses, churches, the court house and in various private homes. Many others were left dead on the field they were so heroically eager to reach such a short time before.

"As the afternoon wore away the churches and warehouses on Chambersburg, Carlisle, and York Streets nearest the line of battle, were filled with wounded. Then the court house, as well as the Catholic, Presbyterian and Reformed churches and the school house in High Street received the injured soldiers, until those places had reached their capacity, when private homes were utilized, citizens volunteering to take them in and care for them. In company… with Miss Julia Culp, a neighbor (who) had a brother in the Confederate Army who was killed on Culp's Hill and a brother in the Union Army, who survived the war, I went into the court house with buckets of water and passed from one to another of the wounded relieving them as best we could under the circumstances. Some of them were so frightfully wounded that a lady could not go near them. These I gave water to, while she cared for those who were not so severely wounded. Quite a number of our townspeople were there doing everything they could in the relief work as the wounded were carried in.

"When our forces were being driven back through the town in the afternoon, I went home feeling that everything was lost and throughout my life I have never felt more despondent. One of the regiments of the Iron Brigade in falling back through town about 4 o'clock in the afternoon passed our house on West Middle Street. As they turned into (the) street from Washington Street, one of the lieutenants was wounded in the foot but kept up with his regiment until he reached our house. He was unable to go any further. He came into the yard. Separating the Bowen house next door and ours, there was an areaway used by both of our families and at the Bowen house was an old-fashioned cellar door standing open, He took off his sword and pistol and sword belt… hobbled down (the steps) and hid them in the cellar(,) then came up to get his sword, when the Confederates came into the yard and made him a prisoner, taking his sword away from him. My mother, standing in our kitchen doorway, seeing he was wounded, asked the Confederates to allow him to come into our house and she would care for him. They allowed him to come and then continued in pursuit of our retreating forces. My mother took him into one of the inner rooms and kept him there without the Confederates finding out. After the battle he was taken to one of the hospitals. In a week or more he was convalescent and came to see is on his way to join his regiment. He sent me over to the Bowen cellar to get his accoutrements and presented them to me, saying that when he got to Washington he would get a new outfit. We never heard from him afterwards.

"When I went out in front of the house about 7 o'clock in the evening, the Confederate line of battle had been formed on East and West Middle Streets, Rodes Division of Ewell's Corps lying right in front of our house. We were now in the hands of the enemy and in passing, I want to pay a tribute to these veterans of the Confederate Army. They were under perfect discipline. They were in and about our yard and used our kitchen stove by permission of my mother... gentlemanly and courteous to us at all times, and I never heard an instance to the contrary in Gettysburg. We settled down quietly this night. There was no noise or confusion among the Confederate soldiers sleeping on the pavement below our windows and we all enjoyed a good night's rest after the feverish anxiety of the first day's battle."

"Day dawned on the second of July bright and clear, and we did not know what to do or expect; whether to remain quietly in our homes, or go out in the town as usual and mingle with our people. But we were soon assured that if we kept within certain restrictions we could go about the town. It was hot and sultry and the lines of battle were quiet with the exception of an occasional exchange of shots between pickets or sharpshooters. Some time during the morning in front of my home on West Middle Street… I was in conversation with one of the Confederate soldiers, whose regiment lay along the street in line of battle, when he asked me if I had ever seen General Lee. I replied that I had not. 'Well,' he said, 'here he comes up the street on horseback.'

"The general rode quietly by unattended and without any apparent recognition from the Confederate soldiers along the street. (H)e reached Baltimore Street, about a square away at the court house, (and) turned into it going up to High Street. I was later informed… that he had gone to the jail, presumably for conference, but with whom has only been surmise(d). The afternoon… I spent in the yard back of the Fahnestock store on West Middle Street. There was a high board fence the length of the lot, extending to an alley at the end. There were two large gates opening to the street along which the Confederate line ran. A Confederate major of one of the regiments was my companion. I do not remember his name or the regiment to which he belonged, but he told me he was originally from Pittsburgh, going south years before the war. Our conversation was about the war and the causes leading up to it and the result thus far on both sides. He was a fair minded man and reasonable in his opinions, there being no rancor or bitterness evident in any of observations on the progress of the conflict. About 4 o'clock an interruption was caused in our conversation by a terrible cannonading off to the southwest of town and we separated, he joining his regiment in the street and I going to my father's house near the Fahnestock store. Our town being in the hands of the Confederates and cut off from all communications with the outside world, we knew nothing about our army and were completely in the dark as to how it was located and how much of it had arrived on the field. The Confederates maintained a clam-like silence on all matters concerning the battle, hence we did not know the significance of this tremendous cannonading until after the battle was over… But for the present it sent everyone to the cellars as a matter of protection. Mr. Harvey D. Wattles lived close to my father's and under his house was a large dry cellar. During the cannonading the neighbors congregated in it as a place of safety. My mother and the rest of the family were there during the afternoon and I was there at intervals while the period of uncertainty caused by this artillery fire existed. An incident that occurred in this house… will give some idea of what families were exposed to while the fighting was in progress. A neighbor had come into the house to take refuge and had brought with her a band-box containing a bonnet. When the cannonading began, she went to the cellar, placing the box on the chair upon which she had been sitting. When she came from the cellar she found the box where she had left it, but a minie ball had passed through the box and the bonnet.

"About dusk, Will McCreary and I were sent on some errand down on Chambersburg Street and as we were crossing from Arnold's corner to the present Eckert corner, we were halted by two Confederate soldiers who had a lady in their charge. She was on horseback and proved to be the wife of General (Francis) Barlow who had come into the Confederate lines under a flag of truce looking for her husband, who had been severely wounded on July 1, and as she was informed, had been brought into the town. She informed us he was with a family 'named McCreary' on Chambersburg Street. We directed her to Smith McCreary's residence (though) she did not find the general there… for he had been taken from the field to the farmhouse of Josiah Benner on the Harrisburg Road just where the covered bridge crossed the creek. The night of the second I slept in a room above the Fahnestock store with a number of other boys. Not making any light we would remain quietly at the window trying to catch the conversation of the Confederate soldiers who were lying on the pavement below the window. We were eager to catch something that would give us some clue to our army and how they were fairing in the battle…, but did not learn much from them. We finally went to bed and settled down into a sound sleep as boys do who have few cares and sound health.

"At intervals during the night I was awakened and could hear the rattle of musketry fire off to the southeast of town, and it did not seem very far away. When we got up in the morning of the third of July this firing was a lively as during the night, with the addition of some artillery fire and continued until about 11 o'clock in the morning. About that hour I was down at my father's house and quite a number of Confederate soldiers came into the yard to the old 'draw well'. They were all begrimed with powder and were 'washing up'. Their remarks about a hill they were butting up against were neither moral nor complimentary. Of course we were in the dark as to the cause of their discomfiture. The balance of the morning passed quietly and until about 1:30 P.M. there seemed to be a lull in the activities on the field. At least it seemed so to us, confined to the limits of the town. About 1:30 however, pandemonium broke loose along the lines of battle and for one hour there was a din of cannonading, unprecedented on the continent. And then an ominous calm ensued. What did it mean? We did not know. Nor could we surmise. But I ventured out cautiously from our retreat which was our place of safety during the cannonading, and walked up to the Fahnestock corner. However I could learn nothing then about the conflict.

"The alleys and street leading up toward the cemetery were barricaded and the Confederate soldiers behind them in line of battle, were prepared to defend (against) any attack from Cemetery Hill. There was a long calm, perhaps an hour, when again the artillery opened up from Cemetery Hill, all along the line of battle to the Round Tops and the rattle of musketry then all over the line except for intervals when great cheers went up from the mighty hosts of the Boys in Blue. But there were no rebel yells such as we heard from time to time during the three days' battles. This demonstration occurred, we learned later, when Pickett's charge failed. But we were to remain ignorant of what the great conflict of the day would bring to us, who were still in the hands of the enemy. On this night, I went to bed restless and was unable to sleep soundly. About midnight I was awakened by a commotion down in the street. Getting up I went to the window and saw Confederate officers passing through the lines of Confederate soldiers bivouacked on the pavement below, telling them to get up quietly and fall back. Very soon the whole line disappeared but we had to remain quietly in our homes for we did not know what it meant.

"About 4 A.M., there was another commotion in the street, this time on Baltimore, the Fahnestock building being at the corner of West Middle and Baltimore Streets. It seemed to be a noisy demonstration. Going hurriedly to the window I looked out. Ye gods! What a welcome sight for the imprisoned people of Gettysburg! The Boys in Blue marching down the street, fife and drum corps playing, the glorious Stars and Stripes fluttering at the head of the lines. They picked up the Confederate soldiers who had been left behind in the retreat and were marching them to the rear at double-quick. It was raining right briskly at this time. I got into my clothes hurriedly and went down o the front door but did not venture out. As the morning advanced, however, we went about the town mingling with our people, comparing notes and finding out how all had fared during the days we were in the hands of the enemy.

"We soon learned that part of the town was still not free from 'Our friends- the enemy'. They had thrown up formidable breastworks extending from the Railroad Woods clear out along the ridge to Emmitsburg Road and beyond it and they were occupied by Confederate soldiers to protect the retreat of their army. As my father's house was on West Middle Street, which extends in a direct line out to Haupt's Hill, which was along the embattled ridge, we were exposed during the whole day to sharpshooters' fire. The Confederates had built little works of stone and ground, just large enough to cover their heads and protect their bodies, extending down the hill in the direction of town. And they lay behind them all day with guns loaded ready to bang away at any suspicious object in the street. Sometime during the morning, several of our officers rode down the street and when about half the length of the square from Baltimore and Washington Street, one of them was hit in the fleshy part of his army by a bullet, evidently causing a very painful wound, for he yelled at the top of his voice.

"On this morning, the 5th, my friend 'Gus' Bentley met me on the street and told me that down at the Hollinger warehouse where he was employed they had a lot of tobacco. 'We hid it away before the Rebs came into town,' he continued, 'and they did not find it. We can buy it and take it out and sell it to the soldiers.' Like all boys of those days we had little spending money but we concluded we would try and raise the cash in some way. I went to my mother and consulted her about it and she loaned me ten dollars. Gus also got ten, all of which we invested in the tobacco. It was in large plugs- Congress tobacco, a well known brand at that time. With an old-fashioned tobacco cutter we cut it up into ten cent pieces and each of us took a basket full and started out Baltimore Street to the cemetery, the nearest line of battle. Reaching the Citizens Cemetery we found a battery of artillery posted there… The soldiers stopped us and would not let us pass, their orders being not to let anyone out of the town. We went back into the town as far as the Presbyterian church and went up High Street to the jail, where we turned into a path leading down to the old Rock Creek 'swimmin' hole'. On the first ridge we saw the first dead Confederate soldiers lying right on the path, two of them side by side, and they were buried there afterward until the Confederate bodies were taken up years later and shipped to Richmond for burial. We kept to the path down to the spring (,) then turned over towards Culp's Hill, ascending it at one of its steepest points. There were all kinds of debris of the battle scattered over the hill, but no dead or wounded soldiers, they having already been removed.

"The breastworks were formidable looking, about three feet or more high, built of trees that had been cut down by the soldiers for the purpose of throwing up these fortifications. A shallow trench was dug in front of the works and the ground thrown up on it. The soldiers helped us over the breastworks with our baskets and in a short time they were empty and our pockets filled with ten-cent pieces. The soldiers told us to go home and get some more tobacco, that they would buy all we could bring out. We made a number of trips, selling out each time, and after disposing of all our supply, and paying back our borrowed capital, we each had more money than we ever had before in our lives.

"On Monday, July 6, I made my first trip over our line of battle out to the Round Tops. Fences were all destroyed and the country all open so that we could drive or walk across country instead of having to take the Emmitsburg or Taneytown Roads. The whole countryside was covered with ruins of the battle. Shot and shell, guns, pieces of shells and bullets were strewn about the fields in every direction and everything that the carnage of battle could produce was evident. Ziegler's Grove showed the effects of the Confederate artillery fire. Good-sized trees were knocked off and splintered in every imaginable way. The bodies of horses that had been killed were lying about.

The sight around Meade's headquarters along the Taneytown Road was terrible, indicating the exposed position it occupied, subject to every shot and shell that came over the ridge above it. Around the house and yard and below it lay at least 12 or 15 dead horses, shot down no doubt while aides and orderlies were delivering orders and messages to headquarters. A short distance below the house there was a stone fence dividing a field. Across this was hanging a horse which had been killed evidently just as he was jumping the fence, for its front legs were on one side and the hind legs on the other. In the road a short distance away was another horse which had been shot down while drawing an ambulance. In the front room of the house was a bed, the covers of it thrown back; and its condition indicated that a wounded soldier had occupied it. I was told that General Butterfield, Meade's chief of staff, who had been wounded, had been placed upon it before being taken to a hospital.

"The Trostle house was entirely deserted. In their kitchen the dinner table was still set with all the dishes from the meal, and fragments of food remained, indicating that the family had gotten up from their meal and made a hurried getaway. On the Codori farm there were still some dead Confederates who had not been buried. They were lying on their backs, their faces toward the heavens, and burned as black as coal from exposure to the hot sun. One of the saddest sights of the day's visit on the field I witnessed near the Devil's Den, on the low ground in that vicinity. There were twenty-six Confederate officers, ranking from a colonel to lieutenants, laid side by side in a row for burial. At the head of each was a board giving their names, ranks and commands to which they belonged. A short distance away was another group of thirteen arranged in the same way. They had evidently been prepared for burial by their Confederate companions before they had fallen back, so that their identity would be preserved, and they would receive a respectable burial. Among the hundreds of graves on the battlefield there was but one whose headboard had the Masonic emblems on it. I saw it for the first time this day and often stopped to look at it afterward. It was close to the southern end of the Codori barn along the Emmitsburg Road (and) was the grave of a Confederate colonel. (Skelly was later informed that this was the grave of Colonel Joseph Wasden, 22nd Georgia Infantry, killed on July 2.)

"This, my first sight of a great battlefield, with all its carnage, ruin, suffering and death- and witnessed the day after the conflict- made a deep and lasting impression on my young mind, stamping war on my memory as too horrible to even think about.

"During the several days our town was in the hands of the enemy, our wounded who had been brought in while the first day's battle was in progress and placed in churches, schools, and in many private homes, were well cared for. The people of the town responded wonderfully in this emergency service. Mothers and daughters acted as nurses in the hospitals nearest their residences, and also provided all kinds of food and delicacies for the wounded. In the days following the battle, the firm of Fahnestock Brothers received numerous inquires about wounded soldiers who were scattered over the field in the hospitals hastily set up at points most conveniently located to take care of the casualties. With Mrs. E.G. Fahnestock, I frequently rode back and forth among these stations, either in buggy or on horseback, looking for wounded men about whom information was sought. Sometimes it was difficult to locate them. We made other trips to the hospitals in the college and seminary buildings also. Frequently on these trips were included supplies of delicacies for the men. So it was that the people of Gettysburg assisted in every way in solving the problems that arose incident to the great battle. The months following the conflict found many extra burdens placed on the town, but there was a willing response on the part of its citizens on all occasions and the confusion that might be expected as an aftermath of such a staggering calamity was reduced to a minimum."

Daniel Skelly

Gettysburg, Penna., 1932.

Salome "Sallie" Myers: how a Gettysburg schoolteacher spent her vacation in 1863

[Note: In 1863, 21 year-old Elizabeth Salome "Sallie" Myers was on summer vacation. The Gettysburg native was in her fourth week off from teaching in the town's public school when, with little warning, she found herself faced with a terrible decision, to hide in the cellar of her home or help the injured and dying. Forty years later, she authored "How A Gettysburg Schoolteacher Spent Her Vacation in 1863", first published in The Sunday Call newspaper in San Francisco, California. Myers was later interviewed for a news article in the July 4, 1909 Philadelphia North American.]

"I was not an enlisted nurse. At the breaking out of the war I was a teacher in the public schools of Gettysburg, my native place, and the home of my maternal ancestors who were its first settlers. On may 31, 1863, I finished a nine months' term as second assistant to the principle of our schools. Of the experiences of the inhabitants of the Southern border counties of our state that Spring and Summer, I need not speak.More...

Business of all kinds was paralyzed and the daily reports of the coming of the rebels kept us in a constant fever of excitement. On June 26 they came, spent the night and passed through... burning bridges and spreading consternation everywhere. Little we dreamed of the far greater horrors that were in store for us.

"On Wednesday July 1, the storm broke. We were brimming over with patriotic enthusiasm. While our elders prepared food we girls stood on the corner near our house and gave refreshments of all kinds to 'our boys' of the First Corps, who were double-quicking down Washington Street to join the troops already engaged in battle west of the town. After the men had all passed, we sat on our doorsteps or stood around in groups, frightened nearly out of our wits but never dreaming of defeat. A horse was led by, the blood streaming from his head which was covered. The sight sickened me. Then a man was led by supported by two comrades. His head had been hastily bandaged and blood was visible. I turned away faint with horror, for I never could bear the sight of blood. After a while the artillery wagons began to go back and we couldn't understand that. The came the order: 'Women and children to the cellars; the rebels will shell the town.' We lost little time in obeying the order. My home was on West High Street, near Washington (Street) and in the direct path of the retreat. From 4 to 6 we were in the cellar and those two hours I can never forget. Our cellar was a good one and furnished a refuge for many besides our own family.

"The noise above our heads, the rattling of musketry, the screeching of shells, and the unearthly yells, added to the cries of the children, were enough to shake the stoutest heart. After the rebels had gained full possession of the town, some of our men who had been captured were standing near the cellar window. One of them asked if some of us would take their addresses and the addresses of friends and write to them of their capture. I took thirteen and wrote as they requested. I received answers from all but one, and several of the soldiers revisited the place of their capture and recognized the house and cellar window. While the battle lasted we concealed and fed three men in our cellar.

"Before 6 o'clock the firing ceased and we came up from the cellar. They had begun bringing wounded and injured into town. The Catholic and Presbyterian churches, a few doors east of my father's home were taken possession of as hospitals. Dr. James Fulton (143rd Pennsylvania Volunteers) did splendid work getting things in shape. From that time on we had no rest for weeks. 'Girls,' Dr. Fulton said, ' you must come up to the churches and help us- the boys are suffering terribly!' I went to the Catholic church. On pews and floors men lay, the groans of the suffering and dying were heartrending. I knelt beside the first man near the door and asked what I could do. 'Nothing,' he replied, 'I am going to die.' I went outside the church and cried. I returned and spoke to the man- he was wounded in the lungs and spine, and there was not the slightest hope for him. The man was Sgt. Alexander Stewart of the 149th Pennsylvania Volunteers. I read a chapter of the Bible to him, it was the last chapter his father had read before he left home. The wounded man died on Monday, July 6.

"Sgt. Stewart was the first wounded man brought in, but others followed. The sight of blood never again affected me and I was among wounded and dying men day and night. While the battle lasted and the town was in possession of the rebels, I went back and forth between my home and the hospitals without fear. The soldiers called me brave, but I am afraid the truth was that I did not know enough to be afraid and if I had known enough, I had no time to think of the risk I ran, for my heart and hands were full. One of our boys had lost a leg. He had been with us several days and had become very fond of my little sisters. Very frequently they sang for him, 'There is No Name So Sweet on Earth', at that time a popular hymn. He suffered from indigestion and one night in his restlessness, the bandages came loose. It was after midnight. The nurse, tired out, had fallen asleep and before we could find a surgeon he was so weakened by loss of blood that he died the next morning. A few days later his wife came. She was young and had never been away from home. When she heard of her husband being wounded, she started for Gettysburg, leaving a babe that he had never seen. She did not know of his death until she came to us and her grief was heartrending.

"I went daily through the hospitals with my writing materials, reading and answering letters. This work enlisted all my sympathies, and I received many kind and appreciative letters from those who could not come. Besides caring for the wounded, we did all we could for the comfort of friends who came to look after their loved ones. Many pleasant and enduring friendships were the result of this part of my work. It is a great pleasure to remember that during that long, trying summer, I was treated with the greatest courtesy and kindness by the soldiers, not one, in either army, ever addressing me except in the most respectful manner. They were men. They bore their suffering in the hospitals with the same matchless courage and fortitude with which they met the dangers and endured the hardships of army life. Their patience was marvelous. I never heard a murmur. Truly, we shall not look upon their like again.

"I would not care to live that summer again, yet I would not willingly erase that chapter from my life's experience; and I shall always be thankful that I was permitted to minister to the wants and soothe the last hours of some of the brave men who lay suffering and dying for the dear old flag."