BLOOD AND BLUE RIBBONS: Chp. 24
A STORY OF THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG
My Memories Of Events From The Great Battle Of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
June 30th – July 3rd, 1863
Abigail Daniels, Summer, 1865
A Novel
Copyright by Elyse Cregar
Friday, July 3rd, 1863
Late Morning
“If the Confederate Army has won this battle . . .”
A curious orange light glimmered from between two boulders. Carrying Joe Pye I made my way a bit further into a damp tunnel formed by the leaning rocks. The path led downward. Dew coated the walls. Joe Pye clung to me, still sleep.
The light grew brighter, like the red glow behind my eyelids when I closed them against the sunshine.
I found myself below the earth, beneath the shelling. The glow drew me forward, as of one hypnotized. Joe Pye slept, but his weight pulled at my shoulders.
I heard a noise above, my neck twisted slowly, painfully, as I moved my head back far enough to see a rattlesnake coiled on a ledge. The rattles vibrated in warning. I ran to escape, but instead stumbled further down into the tunnel; the hellish red glow grew more vivid.
Dull booming sounded above me; pieces of rock jarred loose by the shelling tumbled into my path. The roof of the tunnel looked like my parlor ceiling when chunks of plaster had broken loose from the cannonade. I felt Joe Pye slipping from my arms.
A soldier caught me by the arm and held me. He wore the same straw hat worn by Lee’s tall companion: the surly soldier who had stared at me in my own kitchen! How can that rebel be here in this cave? The tall man’s dark eyes leered at me from under his hat. He drew me toward the fire. A group of Confederate soldiers sat in a circle around the glowing embers.
The tall soldier stared at me, his grin a red slash. I saw blood trickling from the side of his mouth.
“Won’t you join us, pretty Miss Abigail? Miss Abigail, that’s what Lee calls you, isn’t it? Abigail. Yes, pretty Miss Abigail.” He indicated where I should sit. “We’re settin’ this fight out.”
“Where is Lee?” I asked, as I searched the dark recesses of the cavern.
“Lee? Now where can that boy be?” he asked his seated comrades. “Anyone here seen Lee?”
The tall soldier turned his whiskered face to me. His eyes glowed red from underneath his straw hat.
“No tellin’ where that boy is, Miss Abigail. No tellin’. Must be out getting rations for the rest of us.”
I realized that Joe Pye was no longer in my arms as the man pulled me closer. The scrap of Maine flag fell out of my trouser pocket and into the fire. At that moment I felt my skin crawl as a snake dropped onto my shoulders.
Joe Pye began to cry. He pulled hard on my hair. I looked frantically around me but could see only Joe Pye’s blond hair shining in the bright light of day.
“Miss Abigail! Miss Abigail, honey!” Lilly was shaking me.
My heart skipped a beat as I felt my own skin and realized I had been dreaming. How long had I been asleep?
“Yes, I am awake.”
The sun had heated the granite at my back. I kept my eyes closed against the day and began to let my body slide to the ground. The nightmarish images disappeared as I awoke.
But as memories instead of dreams crowded into my consciousness, I reluctantly opened one eye. Joe Pye was a few feet away building a stick house with Henrietta and some of the other children. He was smiling and energetic as he busily scrambled for more sticks.
“Miss Abigail, the shelling is most over now,” Lilly said.
I pushed myself up and looked at Ezra. “It’s so quiet.”
Ezra nodded. “Been no shellin’ for maybe an hour or more.” He glanced upward. “It must be near noon.”
He turned to the bearded older man nearby.
“Rufus, maybe you and me can catch a deer or a rabbit runnin’ away from the shootin’.”
“More like we might snare some rebels. Sounds to me like they been losin’ this fight. Might be they in retreat.” He spat on a rock. “Cowards! The lot of ‘em!”
Rufus winked at me. “Miss Abigail, that old water wheel was near on fire last night.”
I nodded at him, but my confidence was still shaken at my reckless decision to leave the mill with Joe Pye.
It was then we all stopped and listened. From the south we heard sporadic gunfire.
Rufus shook his head. “No place safe,” he murmured. “We best keep the young-uns quiet. All gather behind these big boulders. Here, this big ol’ rock has a shelf.”
He turned back to our other colored neighbors who were dolling out what little bread and dried meat they had to the children. Myra Jane and Jess, with no children of their own, were quietly ministering to the youngest in the group. Jess was searching the children’s packs for food to hand out; Myra Jane rocked two young ones in her lap. I ignored my own rumbling stomach.
Lilly helped me up, my back creaking. “You is one brave and foolish girl, Miss Abigail.”
Ezra stood up, stretching and grimacing. “Look!” He pointed through a gap in the boulders.
I followed his gaze and saw that the stone mill and wheel, barely visible in the distance, were still intact, though many nearby trees continued to burn.
“Oh!” was all I could manage. My knees felt weak. Even with the evidence before me of the great danger we had been in, I could not find words to respond to my saviors. My shame at endangering Joe Pye’s life, as I had certainly done, clawed at my heart, my earlier terror still vivid.
“Here, child, take a bite of bread,” Lilly said as she handed me a crust. She took one of my trembling hands in her own.
I munched hungrily as I struggled to regain my composure, glancing at my neighbors as they moved about within the shadows, seeking the shelter of the larger boulders. Small hands were reaching out to Jess for the crumbs of bread he had found. I smiled at the children’s laughter as he displayed a prize: half of an apple pie!
“Hush, children!” cautioned Ezra.
“The children will need food today. I’ll see if I can find some. The Miller Farm is a long walk, but I must try. I’ll walk up this side of Rock Creek to the main road and perhaps I can find out if this battle is finally over.”
Ezra shook his head. “Miss Abigail, there’s no need. I’d surely wait a bit more. Y’all might get yourself kilt. Remember last night?”
“If I find out that there is any chance of fighting near here, I’ll return. I promise. When I reach the Baltimore Pike, perhaps I can run further south to Mary Ellen’s farm for food.”
But my heart fluttered as I again felt the paralyzing fear I had known only hours before. My bravado shriveled as I retreated into a helpless state.
“Will you come with me, Ezra? We can stay hidden in the woods until we observe what is happening on the road.”
On hearing my request, Myra Jane, holding an infant, stood up and walked over to me. She gently hushed the baby who had begun to cry.
“Miss Abigail, even if the fightin’s over, we don’t know which side won.” Her tone was bitter. “With your white skin, I don’t suppose it matters none if y’all run into them rebs. They won’t make no slave of y’all. Huh!”
My shoulders sagged. “Yes, Myra Jane. Of course. I’m sorry for even thinking of such a plan.”
It was not until that moment that I truly realized how free I was and always had been to move about; that I had taken for granted the color of my skin as my due. As I looked into Myra Jane’s eyes, I felt the resentment it could cause. My skin, an immutable part of the essence of who I was, who I would always be, caused others to respond to me as white. As in many ways I had always responded in a certain way to the blackness of my neighbors. I remembered seeing the three colored men chained at the post, and my need to not know their names. I remembered Ezra telling me he did not want his children to come home with me because their black skin would be an invitation from certain townspeople to disparage them, and that I had felt annoyed at being dismissed by him. I remembered my argument with Ezra only hours earlier in the muddy floor of the mill. My stubbornness, my clouded judgment, my brief moment of feeling superior haunted me now. Would I ever have argued with my own parents in that manner?
These thoughts revolved in my mind, so that my next words came slowly as I focused my gaze on each of my comrades: Ezra, Lilly, Myra Jane, Jess, Rufus, and the other dark faces of my neighbors. All of us were trapped in this labyrinth of woods and ancient stones. Yet all but me knew well the monsters lying in wait if we took the wrong turn.
“If the Confederate Army has won this battle, when will you be able to go home?” I nodded at the colored families playing games with their children or sitting quietly with their little ones. “What if the southern troops hold our town? You cannot stay here much longer. You will have to find another hiding place.” I hesitated. “I know a farm family in Littlestown.”
Ezra seemed to consider his next words as carefully as I had considered mine.
“Well, then, Miss Abigail, it seems Mr. Lincoln’s Army must prevail, so’s we can take these young-uns home.”
Joe Pye whined as he rubbed his empty stomach. “Abby? I’m hungry. I want Mama!”
I picked up the boy and rocked him gently in my arms. Should I take him with me?
“Miss Abigail, leave li’l brother with us,” Lilly pleaded, reading my mind. “If you is right that the fightin’ be over, y’all can fetch him right quick and tell us who the victor is.”
I looked at my little brother’s weepy face and remembered the events of the previous night when I had nearly gotten us both killed.
“Very well. I will try to hurry back. I can move much faster without Joe Pye. And somehow I will bring bread and apples for the children. Thank you, Lilly and Ezra.” I nodded my head and smiled at Henrietta as she played with the other children.
“Thank you all for taking such good care of my precious brother.”
Lilly squeezed my hand.
“Be careful.”
“I will be careful. I promise. I do have Kit’s musket.”
Lilly rolled her eyes. “Miss Abigail, that is just what I be scared of.”
Sitting down for a moment with Joe Pye I played with him as we assembled his stick fort. I reached over and pulled him close to me.
“Play with your friends, Joe Pye. I am sorry we are not home yet to see Mama. But soon, I hope. I will try to hurry back.”
I picked up Kit’s ammunition pouch, wool jacket and kepi cap..
“Now, Joe Pye, I’m going to find something to eat for you and the others. I know how hungry you are.” I kept my vows short. His refusal to hug me back, his silence at my words, cut my heart.
I pushed my exhausted body up from the ground and looked around the circle of black faces staring at this white girl playing at being a soldier. But I was determined to help in some way, whether it would be to find bread for these children or to find an answer to the most critical question: had there already been a victor in this great battle? Or was more horror yet to come?
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Hal Jespersen volunteered his time and expertise in creating the accompanying map of Gettysburg. You may see more of Hal’s carefully drawn and extensive collection of maps at his website cwmaps.com
McAllister's Mill A Generational Story
NEWS FOR FOR MY READERS OF BLOOD AND BLUE RIBBONS: I hope to publish this story as an ebook this summer! Please watch for further updates on this space!
The FREE chapters to follow will post on my Substack Section: Blood and Blue Ribbons, generally on Saturdays and Wednesdays. This novel appears as a Section on my Substack site: MORE CATS, PLEASE!
Post for Saturday, May 31: Chapter 25
To read more about the Battle of Gettysburg, please visit my non-commercial website: Bloodandblueribbons.com . There you will find a brief history of the Maine 16th Volunteer Infantry Regiment at Gettysburg on The Stories tab.