The Girls of Gettysburg (14 page)

There the column stood, waiting, waiting, waiting. Thousands of restless feet shuffled, hundreds of horses neighed and stomped, mules brayed impatiently.

“Bloody hell,” Dylan wheezed. “Hurry up and wait, that's the way of it.”

Waiting, waiting, waiting
 . . .

Finally the call to march echoed down the line. But even then, another hour passed before the bugle rent the air. The column was creaking to a slow start, but it was moving forward. Thousands of feet pounded the hardened road to the beat of thousands of tin cups banging against thousands of canteens. As the column moved, it rolled like thunder across the mountainside.

Gettysburg was a long day's march away, twenty-five miles through the South Mountains by way of Cashtown Gap.

Tramp, tramp, tramp
. One foot in front of the other.

The eastern sky pinked as day broke. The breeze died away, leaving the air hot and humid.

“Ain't it a grand sight, strawfoot?” Dylan smiled, looking ahead of him. “Like a bull snake gliding through the waters!”

Ahead of them, the column of men stretched as far as forever. The cavalry led the way, with the infantry following, then the artillery.

Tramp, tramp, tramp
. She marched without tripping, without mis-stepping, without thinking.

Tramp, tramp, tramp
. The sun rose higher. Even the swarms of nippers and gnats fled the heat. The dust cloud rose under Annie's feet and clung to the sweat dripping on her face. The sweat under her arms rolled down her sides and back. The strap holding the Whitworth cut into her shoulder. Annie's throat was parched so dry, it hurt to breathe.

Down the line, canteens flashed as soldiers bottomed up.

Jasper groaned.

“Seems like your big plan is about to backfire,” Annie said.

Jasper started to guzzle water, but Dylan pulled the canteen away.

“Sip lightly,” he warned. “Too much of a good thing will give you the heave-ho.”

Dylan pulled up some grass, wetting it with water and stuffing it under Jasper's hat. Annie was surprised, as surprised as when she had first seen the dandified lawyer smile. Dylan showing worry for someone else seemed as odd as a skunk without stripes.

The sun kept trudging upward and the column kept moving onward. Jasper staggered in the heat, fumbling with his rifle. But he kept marching.

Then someone ahead shouted, “Water!” The call flowed down the ranks like a fast wind. Soldiers broke formation, rushing to the pond.

“Stay where you are, boys,” Gideon boomed in warning. “We'll be down for a rest soon enough. Don't break ranks!”

And nobody did, not from the Ninth.

Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

Suddenly Jasper groaned again, clutching his gut.

“And thar she blows,” Dylan said as Jasper stepped from the column, hunching over on the roadside, heaving his rations.

The road narrowed. The column marched only four men shoulder to shoulder, sometimes only two abreast. But on they marched.
Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

Weary soldiers crowded the roadside. Some sat, heads sagging between their legs. Others lay sprawled where they fell. Soldiers behind them stepped over the fallen, and on they marched.
Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

But the boys of the Ninth stayed in ranks.

The sun rose higher. Annie looked up, catching a glint of metal in the distance. She knew that sparkle.

“Sergeant!” She pointed. “Rifles!”

She heard the crack of rifle fire. Ahead, a man was knocked backward off his horse as the sniper's bullet found its mark. The riderless horse raced down the line in wild-eyed panic.

“Bushwackers! Watch the rocks, sons!” Gideon shouted.

Another bullet zinged so close, she thought for sure she felt its wind. Just two rows ahead, another man fell.

Cavalry raced up and down, getting their own shots off.

But not even the bushwackers could slow their march.
Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

Jasper groaned again. His legs wobbled and his hands trembled, as if the heat had melted them. He tripped. Down he fell, tagging Dylan and Annie as he did so.

A lieutenant on horseback rode up to the fallen Jasper.

“Get up, soldier! Get up or you'll be shot for desertion!”

But all Jasper could do was shake his head and moan, “Jiggers.”

Breaking ranks, Dylan jumped the two strides to reach Jasper, and hoisted him to his feet. Surprising herself, Annie also left the line, looping Jasper's dangling arm about her shoulders. Dylan grinned. Together, Dylan and Annie moved Jasper forward. The lieutenant made a move to say something, when Gideon stepped forward, placing himself between his boys and the lieutenant, and snapped a perfect salute.

“Begging your pardon, sir. Isn't it about that time, sir?”

“About what time, sergeant?”

“Break time, sir. Haven't had one in an hour or so.”

The lieutenant looked to the sergeant, then to the boys. And Jasper groaned.

“My boys here were just taking this fellow to the wagon, weren't you, boys? They'll be double-quick about it!” Gideon glanced back at Dylan and Annie. “Time to be hoofin' it, boys.”

“Yes, sir!” Dylan and Annie shouted.

Dylan and Annie took Jasper to the nearest wagon. It wasn't a far walk, since they were already near the end of the column. The wagon continued to rumble on as Dylan and Annie heaved Jasper onto it.

“Rest easy, chum!” Dylan said.

Jasper moaned. “Can't be killing no blueberries without me!”

“You mean blue-bellies?” Annie smiled.

Jasper slumped in a dead faint.

Tamp, tramp, tramp
. The line followed Old Chambersburg Pike, rising past apple orchards and open fields, moving toward the wooded slope of Cashtown Gap. As the sun reached its peak, the day's heat climbed to boiling. More soldiers fell by the wayside. By noon they had reached the Gap.

Suddenly, soldiers ahead raised a howl, and the shouting worked its way down the line like ripples in a pond.

A rider flew past them, shouting: “They've been fighting at Gettysburg! Since yesterday morning! We're driving the blue-bellies back! We've got six thousand prisoners! Huzzah Lee!”

The men shouted: “Huzzah! Lee!”

Even the fallen rallied and stood to join the line. The column pushed on, and the men now sang:

Then I wish I was in Dixie!

Hurray! Hurray!

In Dixie's land I'll take my stand
,

To live and die in Dixie!

Not even the clouds of dust could stifle their singing. As tired as they were, their spirits soared as high as the notes. They had courage and dash, and they were going to give the Federals a good taste of both!

Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

It didn't take long for the heat to snatch away their voices. The pace, already slow, became tortured. Annie hardly felt the itch from the skeeters anymore. She hardly felt anything.

Tramp, tramp, tramp
.

In the distance, in that little town of Gettysburg, the artillery boomed. At last, at four in the afternoon, the bugle sounded the fall-out. The troops scattered to the roadside and swarmed the creeks.

Annie, the sweat pouring from her, drank deep from a creek. Then she eased against the trunk of a tree, knapsack and rifle still on her back, and hung her head.

Already she was asleep.

Grandfather Weikert welcomed them kindly, and Grandmother Weikert's arms opened wide enough to embrace everyone at once.

Tillie let loose a heavy sigh of relief after leaving the wagon. But even before she had a chance to inhale, more Union forces moved past the farm, racing toward the battle on the western side of town. In the hours since they had began their trek out of town, the battle had moved south, erupting in skirmishes all along the ridge. The Northern army occupied the high ground from Culp's Hill right down the spine of Cemetery Ridge, where Tillie and Henrietta had walked.

The Southern army was spreading along Seminary Ridge, right down to Rose Woods, Stony Hill . . . and the Round Tops.

And just as the soldier from the cemetery gatehouse had predicted, the rebels began firing their cannons at the cemetery. Even where Tillie stood, two miles down the road, she could hear the earth exploding around the gatehouse and along the road.

The explosions were getting closer, louder.

Tillie realized in dread, the war had followed them to the farm! They were surrounded!

Suddenly the field next to the stone house exploded fom the impact of a shell. A man flew backward high into the air. He came down with a thud, landing so close that Tillie could see that his eyes had been blown out of his face. His clothes and skin were blackened by fire. The man gasped as others quickly came to his aid. Lifting him gently, they brought him into the house.

Behind them, a group of soldiers rushed past the house, pursuing the rebs who'd fired the cannon.

Tillie turned as another line of soldiers shouted, swarming the spring close to the house. Like bees in a flower patch, the men drank deep and fast. An officer rode up, shouting for them to fall back into formation. The men turned, dragging their feet, begrudging the order but following it all the same.

“Tillie!” Henrietta shouted, running up behind her. “Come along, Tillie! Take these buckets. I've tin cups from the kitchen. Fill the buckets with spring water, take them to the road!”

Still wearing her bundle, Tillie filled a bucket at the spring and dragged it along, spilling most of the water on the ground, soaking her dress and her bundle. She filled it again, and dragged it to the road. She offered cup after cup to the thirsty soldiers. Soon enough the bucket was empty.

“Get another bucket, Tillie!” Henrietta urged her.

Back and forth she trudged, to the spring then to the road. Her arms hurt so, she thought they'd fall off. Blisters bubbled on her palms, and then burst, leaving open sores that burned like fire. Through the day and well into the early evening, Grandmother Weikert brought bread to Henrietta and Tillie to give to the soldiers.

And when the spring was dry, Henrietta moved Tillie to the pump on the south side of the house.

“Excuse me, miss?” Three officers had ridden up. One young officer dismounted and approached her. “That water looks mighty fine.”

“You'll excuse the tin cup,” Tillie said. At another time she might have smiled, she might have thought him dashing and noble. But now she was tired beyond thought and reason. Her fingers trembled; it was all she could do to hold the cup.

The soldier swallowed the water slowly, and when he finished, he let loose a sigh so deep it seemed to rise up from his soul. “I can say with all honesty that never have I tasted such sweet water as this!” He smiled.

At that moment the tide of men and wagons on the road shifted to one side, like a creek making a sudden turn. Several officers on
horseback rode past them. The man in the center seemed to ride taller than the others. All around, cheers boomed as loud as cannon fire.

“Who is that?” Tillie asked.

“Why, that's General Meade. He's the best hope for the Union, now that General Reynolds is gone. He's going to push that troublesome Lee all the way back to Richmond. Don't you worry none. All this will soon pass, and we'll be well gone.” Offering Tillie a quick bow, the soldier leapted onto his horse and rode after the procession. She wondered when the horses might drink.

As the sky glowed with twilight, Tillie continued to give water and bread to passing soldiers. They kept coming, thousands of them, it seemed. Only when her arms hurt so much she thought they'd fall off did she finally go into the house. But nothing hurt as much as her heart. She worried for Father and Mother. She slumped in a chair, rubbing salve into her palms.

Suddenly, a soldier pushed open the front door. He held his hand up to reveal his thumb, bone exposed, flesh hanging on by a thread.