GETTYSBURG

The last day of June and Dad has packed us all up in our ’63 Fairlane. This isn’t one of his “let’s get in the car and see where it takes us” days. No, this day will be special, especially for me. We’re heading for a small town in Pennsylvania where one hundred years ago the armies of the North and South ran into each other and fought for three days in the heat of the summer. Yep, we’re going to Gettysburg and I’m just about to burst with excitement.
All five of us heading deep into Pennsylvania down Route 30, the highway we all know as the White Horse Pike in South Jersey. We’re traveling towards that crossroads village just like the Northern Army did, and my mind is spinning in anticipation.
I’m going to stand on the ground where Robert E. Lee and James Longstreet and George Meade stood so long ago. I know every minute of the battle, and I can’t wait to see it all. It’s the centennial celebration so there’s going to be special presentations and speeches and re-enactors dressed in uniforms and everything.
The trip takes about three hours, an eternity for me, but then-there it is, Little Round Top and Big Round Top, and the cemetery and Devil’s Den and all the other spots on the battlefield I’ve read about. It’s a beautiful place, this little town surrounded by hills covered in rocks and boulders, and broad fields that stretch for miles. This peaceful place once shattered by war.
I’m standing on Little Round Top and I can feel the intensity of the fighting. The big rocks and boulders of Devil’s Den just like in my Civil War books at home. Lots and lots of cannons in long rows, and I make my Dad stop the car at every monument so I can get out and read them.
We go in to see the Electric Map of the battle. It’s a three-dimensional map that you sit around on bleachers, and the three days’ battle is explained to you. The troop positions and landmarks are highlighted by colored lights following the flow of the battle. Some people are probably bored out of their minds, but I’m loving every minute of it.
There’s so much to see and do that Dad and Mom decide that we’ll stay overnight. I’m going to sleep in Gettysburg. Yes!! This will be the highlight of my summer.
Thing is, my parents haven’t made any reservations, and this is the centennial celebration and all, and it looks like a major part of the population is here. We drive all over town and there doesn’t seem to be a vacancy anywhere, so it looks like we’re going to be heading out of town for the night. My Dad is determined. Somehow we find THE ONLY motel room left in Gettysburg. The five of us will have to squeeze in somehow, and the cots will pretty much fill up the room, but we’ve got a place to stay for the night.
That evening we attend a campfire presentation on the battlefield. We listen to re-enactors tell stories about the battle, and we watch demonstrations of loading muskets and cannons. This is better than I’d ever imagined.
I sleep well that night, knowing that in the morning, I can explore the battlefield even more.
It’s hot that first day of July, just like in 1863. We stand on Cemetery Ridge, at the point where Pickett’s Charge is finally stopped, and it’s a shame that such beautiful country witnessed so much pain and destruction. We travel over to where the Confederate lines were on Seminary Ridge, and I try to imagine what it was like getting ready to march across those fields in the face of all that gunfire.
Carl and I buy Civil War hats and flags, some replica Confederate money and a copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Dad makes a second tour for me. Another look at Little Round Top and Devil’s Den, a pass at Culp’s Hill and a last look at the rows of cannons, and we’re heading for home. We’ve got to get back to New Jersey to get ready for Carl’s birthday on the Fourth of July.
We’ll be home by early evening. As always the cool air of the woods behind our house greets us, a refreshing welcome home.
It was an exciting two days and I’ll sleep that night and dream of men in blue and gray and boulders and hills and a charge across the beautiful fields of Pennsylvania.