by Unknown
There were still bodies littering the ground. Reb and Yankee lay in grotesque piles showing where they had fought and died. Instead of heading directly up to Cemetery Ridge I headed down the valley and along Plum Run. I deemed that it would be easier to cross the lines in the tangle of rocks and undergrowth that lay at the southern end of the Federal lines.
The rifle was far heavier to carry and I contemplated ditching it but that would have made the Union soldiers suspicious. There was much to be said for having a horse. We moved as swiftly as we could down that stream. When we heard horses we threw ourselves to the ground and feigned death. The Union horsemen passed us without reacting. We rose and moved on.
As we neared the spot where we had hidden from the cavalry I saw, to my dismay that it now bristled with guns and barriers. This would be a hard place from which to dislodge the enemy. I could see that an engineer had worked at that. I remembered how formidable it had been before they had done their work. It would be as a fortress now.
“Let’s cut left. They look to be on the alert here. Let’s try further up.”
The going was a little easier towards the end of Cemetery Ridge but we had to move slowly for fear of alerting the sentries who would, no doubt, be watching for a Confederate attack. We were now behind the lines for the Union forces still held part of the Emmitsburg Road.
Suddenly we heard a voice say, “Halt, who goes there?”
“Corporal Geraghty and Private Duffy of the 28th.”
Duffy and I had decided to accentuate our accents. “What the hell are you Irish boys doing here? You are supposed to be on the Emmitsburg Road.” The sergeant who had appeared narrowed his eyes, “You ain’t deserting are you?”
I snorted, “And who the hell ever heard of an Irishman running away from a fight. We have been sent to get some more ammunition. There’s a mess of Rebs just raring to attack us and the colonel sent us to get some more .69 calibre balls.”
“And who is the colonel?”
The sergeant was still suspicious. Luckily the general’s aide had told us that the colonel of the Irish Brigade was Colonel Kelly. I decided to be bold and aggressive. “Why, Colonel Kelly of course. Listen sergeant, if you want to take us back to the colonel for you to confirm who we are I would be delighted. I like nothing better than watching him chew out sergeants.”
“Ah get away with you. You’ll find the wagons a mile or so yonder.”
And with that we were through and able to do our job. I could see, as soon as we left the forward areas that they were bringing up many cannon. These were not the outdated smoothbore we had seen in our own lines. Some of these were breech loaders and others still had the factory grease on them. I dared not risk making notes as I would normally do.
“Keep a note in your head of what we see eh Trooper?”
He nodded, seriously, “Yes sir.”
I decided to head for the wagons containing musket balls as it would aid our escape and also make us less conspicuous. We trudged, as though we were weary soldiers, towards the wagons which were close to the Baltimore Pike. The soldiers in charge of them were cooking up a breakfast and we could smell the ham sizzling in the pan. I felt hunger pangs even though, until then, I had been too nervous to eat. Bacon will do that to you.
A lieutenant came out of one of the tents. “Yes corporal, what can I do for you?”
“Colonel Kelly’s compliments and he would like some .69 calibre musket balls.”
A sergeant wandered over as the lieutenant, who looked to be barely old enough to shave said, “Where is your supply chit corporal?”
The grizzled sergeant laughed, “Let’s get rid of that old ammo sir. They are the only ones mad enough to still use the old smoothbore.”
“And sir, the colonel was too busy fighting Rebs to have the time to write anything down.”
I saw the lieutenant colour at the implied criticism. “Oh very well. The sergeant is right. It will clear space for more useful ammunition anyway.”
The sergeant winked at me as the lieutenant returned to his tent, “Will you have a bite to eat with us corporal. We have plenty.”
As much as I wanted to head back to our lines I knew that it would be odd to refuse the food and so I grinned back at the sergeant, “Of course. We have been on iron rations for the past two days and that ham smells mighty fine.”
He led me over, “We have some eggs too. There was a little farm we passed and it would have been pure wrong to leave the eggs for those civilians.” The men made a space around the fire. They had cut logs for seats and Duffy and I sat next to each other. We held our mugs out and the hot steaming coffee was poured in. It seemed like weeks since we had had decent coffee.
“You boys help yourselves.” I noticed that they used their bayonets to spear the ham. A private flipped the eggs on to slices of fried bread. I almost forgot there was a war as the yolk and bacon grease ran down my chin. The fried bread reminded me of home in Ireland. That was a rare treat. When we had managed to get a piece of bacon Caitlin and I would have bread dipped in the bacon grease while my father enjoyed the bacon.
“What is it like at the front, corporal?”
“Those Rebs might not have the best of weapons, sergeant, but they are mad buggers. They keep coming at you when a normal man would give up.”
“Aye, we heard that.” He pointed behind him. “Don’t you worry we have plenty of cannon. If they try to cross that ground then they will be slaughtered.”
One of the privates shook his head. “Even the Rebs wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that.”
We had finished our food and I was keen to get back to General Hill with the information we had gleaned. “Well thank you for your hospitality. Now if we could have those musket balls we can get back into this war.”
There was a large case of them. We could barely lift it. “It’s a pity there are no mules. We had a whole bunch of them until Jeb Stuart and his boys stole them.”
I hid a smile. That had been us. “Don’t worry, besides this is easier. Those Rebs have sharpshooters.”
We turned to head back west. I took a slight detour to the southern end of the ridge. I wanted to examine the earthworks more closely. From close up they were even more formidable. As we headed down the slope I noticed the white flag with the green shamrock on it and the men sleeping by the cannon. It had to be Mick O’Callaghan and his men. The description had been too accurate for it to be any other. The thought flitted across my mind that I could end the threat to the colonel and the major there and then. My sense of duty and the presence of Trooper Duffy dissuaded me. I now knew where the sergeant was and I could return, if I survived this crossing.
We hurried down the slope a little to enable us to cross the valley. I was just trying to work out when we could ditch the ammunition when a general and some staff officers rode in the same direction as us.
“Colonel I don’t care what General Meade says, my men have nothing to fire at here. Now, that Wheatfield down there looks much better.”
“General Sickles, we have our orders.”
The general suddenly noticed us. “Hey you two men. Stop.” I almost panicked. Had we been discovered? “Are you boys with Colonel Kelly and the Irish Brigade?”
“Yes sir, we are that!” I laid the accent on with a trowel and gave him what I hoped he would take as an Irish smile.
“And you boys are dug in on the road yonder? Just past the wheat field and the orchard we can see?”
“We are indeed sir; right in the Reb’s faces.”
“Then I am decided. We can support the front line. We will not win this war by hanging back. We need to strike with purpose. The Third Corps will move in that direction.” He pointed to the wheat field and as he did so he flipped me a silver dollar. “Here’s for your trouble sir and tell your colonel that soon he will have the finest Corps in the army to support him.”
“Thank you kindly sir.”
I had to get back now. The general had just negated the effect of the
cannon. They would not be able to fire at an advance from our forces for fear of hitting their own men. When we reached the sergeant who had stopped us earlier he grunted, “Well you weren’t deserters then. Next time make sure you have written orders. If not you might get shot.”
“Thank you for your trouble sergeant.” We descended towards Plum Run. Once we reached the dead ground out of sight of both sides I halted. “I think we can get rid of this.”
“It seems a shame to waste these musket balls, sir.” Trooper Duffy looked ruefully at the US Army packing case.
He was right. “Break it open and we will carry what we can. “ We both had haversacks and they could carry a fair weight of musket balls. Once we had taken as many as we could we emptied the rest into Plum Run. I wondered if they would ever be discovered.
It was much easier to move now but, unfortunately the attacks had begun and we heard muskets popping away occasionally punctuated by the boom of a cannon. “Well Duffy we are now in the lap of the gods. I don’t know how we are going to get across the Yank lines.”
We moved up the slope towards the Emmitsburg Pike. I could see the blue coats of the Irish Brigade. Their backs were to us. I saw that the line ended some hundred yards to our left. I pointed up the slope and we crabbed our way across the hill. We were just beyond the last man. “If we move down there we can ditch these uniforms and cross into our lines.”Although we were not wearing Confederate uniforms, we would not be marked as Yankees by showing blue uniforms.
I found a dell and we crouched down to take off our jackets. We had barely done so when I heard a voice behind me. “Are you two deserting?”
There was a patrol of five men. They were five yards away, no more. Our disguises would not work now and I had to take the offensive. I nodded to Duffy and raised my Enfield. I knew it was loaded but I would only have one shot. The bullet slammed into the sergeant and I thrust forwards with my bayonet at the man behind him. He was taken by surprise and the blade slid into his side. He was a strong man and he wrenched the rifle from my hands. Duffy had killed one man but a second was raising his gun to shoot. I picked up the haversack containing the musket balls and hurled it at him. The lead missile smashed into the side of his skull. I drew my pistol and shot the soldier who was pointing his musket at me. It was a smoothbore. If he had pulled the trigger then I would be dead. I just managed to fire it before he did and his face disappeared.
I heard a cry from behind me and saw Trooper Duffy being bayoneted in the arm. I swung the Colt and killed his assailant before he could give the coup de grace. I slung the haversack over my shoulder and then picked up Duffy. The wound was bleeding but not heavily. I threw him over my shoulder.
“Leave me sir.”
“Not on your life. We don’t have far to go.” I had just stood when I heard a pistol sound behind me. “I expected the thud of a bullet but there was nothing. “What the hell was that?”
“The man you bayoneted tried to shoot you.”
“Thank you, trooper. You have just saved both of our lives.”
We were not out of the woods yet. The firing had alerted both the Irish Brigade and our men. I struggled up the hill. The added weight made it doubly difficult. “They are chasing us sir.”
“Keep firing. It may keep their heads down.”
I could not see our men but I knew they must be close. I yelled, in desperation, “1st Virginia Scouts coming in. I have a wounded man.”
The silence ahead was ominous until suddenly a line of muskets appeared and they fired. I heard the cries from the Yankees following as we crashed into our front lines. As I lay, with Duffy still draped across my shoulders I heard a familiar voice say, “Well sir, you are still Lucky Jack.”
I looked up at Sergeant Ritchie. We had made it. While he and the other troopers took Duffy to the doctor I hurried to headquarters. General Hill was outside of his tent and was conferring with his senior commanders. His aide looked up as I approached, “It’s Captain Hogan!”
Every face turned towards me. “Well Captain, what news for me?”
I went to the map. “Here they have built barriers to protect their flank. Along the ridge they have eighty guns at least.” I ran my finger along the Emmitsburg road. “Here they are thinly defended but the Third Corps is about to march here,” I pointed to the wheat field.
“You are certain?”
“I heard General Sickles himself give the order. Their cannon will not be able to support him.”
General Hill slapped his hand, “Order General McLaws to sweep the Third Corps from the field.” As the messenger galloped off he turned to me, “Well done, Captain Hogan. That may be the turning point that we needed.”
I reached the camp when Sergeant Ritchie was returning from the infirmary. “How is Duffy?”
“He might lose the arm but at least he is alive. If you hadn’t carried him back then he might have died, sir.”
I felt exhausted but it was barely past mid morning. There were men dying out there. “Get the men mounted; we’ll see what we can do to expedite matters.”
By the time I had donned my uniform my men were ready to ride. The day already seemed to have lasted a lifetime and yet the first attacks against Cemetery Ridge were just beginning.
We headed for the Emmitsburg road. Already General Hill’s men were pushing the blue coated regiments back to Cemetery ridge. I could see General McLaws infantry driving towards the Third Corps who were isolated between the Peach Orchard and the wheat field. This was where General Stuart and his cavalry would have been invaluable. They were not there and we were. We would have to do the job.
“Sergeant Jones, we will ride down Plum Run and see if we can surprise them on their flank.”
We passed the first casualties who were returning from the attack on the ridge. The cannon might not be able to support General Sickles but they still turned Plum Run into a Valley of Death. I forced myself to ignore the carnage. We could do little about that but we could ease the pressure at the southern end of our line. The smoke had filled the valley and made it easier for us to move in the dead ground without being seen. We must have been the leading Confederates in this area. When we reached the wall lining the road I halted the company. “Dismount, horse holders!”
We crouched behind the wall of the road which dissected the wheat field from the orchard. The troopers took up a position behind the wall. As I peered over I saw the men of the Third Corps trying to form lines to face the advancing infantry. They were being decimated by the fire from the cannon. They might have been old fashioned smooth bore cannon but they were close enough to be able to use canister.
“Ready! Fire!”
My handful of men rose and began to fire into the flanks of the soldiers who now found themselves assaulted from two directions. When they tried to turn to face us we had the wall to protect us. This was where I missed my carbine. My pistol would be ineffective at this range and the Enfield I had had still remained with the dead Irishmen.
A company of infantry were ordered to charge us. “Stand to! They are charging.” I drew my Colt and began firing at the infantry who ran with their bayonets towards us. I holstered my empty gun and drew my second. They were so close now that I could not miss but there were so many of them that I soon had an empty gun. I drew my sabre and retained the pistol in my left hand.
“Hold them boys!” A private thrust his bayonet at me; I struck the deadly blade away from me with my Colt and slashed him across the neck with my sabre. He fell dead. A second private climbed the wall and prepared to stab down at me. I swung my sabre sideways and it sliced through his leg. He fell screaming on to four men on the other side. I used the small lull to put my empty pistol in my belt and draw my last loaded gun. I leaned over and emptied it into the huddle of men who were struggling to rise from the other side of the wall.
I saw Sergeant Ritchie trying to fend off three attackers with his sword. He was isolated. I threw myself bodily at them with my sword held before me. We fell in
a heap. My sword had impaled one of them but was stuck. I let go of it and drew my knife from my boot. I stabbed blindly in the direction of the blue uniform before me. I felt it strike something and I heard a scream and I twisted the blade. The scream became higher but I was able to withdraw my knife. I sensed something from my left and I swung my empty Colt. It crashed satisfyingly into something solid and I saw a private lying, holding his head. Sergeant Ritchie thrust his sword into his neck and we stood. His side was bleeding but he could, at least, stand.
“Thank you sir. I guess I owe you my life.”
“We have no time for that now.” I looked along the line. We had held but only just. The infantry were falling back in disorder. Suddenly I heard the rebel yell and General McLaws men fell upon the disordered Third Corps. They could not stand and they either fled or surrendered.
“We’re done here. Let’s see the butcher’s bill.”
As we rode back along Plum Run and then up the ridge I reflected that we had done our duty but there were five troopers who would lie forever in that charnel house of the Valley of Death.
We had some good news when we returned to General Hill’s camp. His aide greeted us warmly. “Well done Captain Hogan. I heard that you helped to destroy their attack. The general thanks you. And we have some good news for you too. General Stuart and his men are in Gettysburg.”
My smile must have shown my feelings. “I am afraid you will not be able to rejoin them just yet. General Hill has another task for you first. Your men can return to their regiment but we need you to slip behind their lines again tonight.”
Sergeant Ritchie’s face fell, “That’s not fair sir. The captain needs some rest.”
The major did not know what to make of it and he looked at me for help. “Sergeant, that is enough. If the general needs me again then I will oblige him. We all obey orders don’t we?”
His face assumed the look of someone who has just sucked a particularly sour lemon, “Yes sir.”
“Ready the men but wait until I have been briefed before you return to the regiment.”