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  As we walked to the general’s tent the major mused, “Are all your men as loyal as that one captain?”

  “Most of them sir. We tend to operate outside of the main army and it breeds a familiarity which might appear unusual. I apologise for the sergeant. He means well.”

  He shook his head, “No, I find it refreshing. Here at staff we see too much politicking. I would prefer to be as you are with men who fight for you and not merely with you.”

  I remembered how near the sergeant and I had come to death not more than two hours earlier. “Believe me sir, the politicking will not get you killed!”

  He laughed, “You are probably right.”

  “Captain Hogan. I am sorry to call upon your services again but I need someone to go behind their lines and find out how much ammunition they have for their cannon.”

  I frowned, “But sir, I told you this morning; they have plenty of cannon and more than enough ammunition to fire all week. I can go back but I will be bringing the same message.”

  General Hill looked over to General Anderson, “This appears to contradict what you believe General Anderson.”

  General Anderson shrugged. “All I said was they did not fire their guns as often as I expected them to. I believe they were conserving their ammunition because they were running out.”

  General Hill stroked his beard and went to the map. “It could be that they were conserving their ammunition because they intend to launch an attack. Captain Hogan, are you sure about what you saw?”

  “I had breakfast with the men and the supplies. I clearly saw the ammunition for the cannon.”

  “I trust your judgement. You and your men may return to your regiment sir. Thank you for your valiant efforts. I will go and see General Lee. This changes things.”

  As I walked back to my men I heard the battle still raging at the southern end of our lines where General Longstreet and his men were still trying to winkle the Yankees out from the warren of rocks known as the Devil’s Den. This battle had already lasted two days and I wondered how long men would bleed for this desolate piece of land.

  “Sergeant Ritchie, you will be pleased to know that I am no longer required to go behind the enemy lines. We return to the regiment.”

  He must have told the men of my impending mission for they all gave a huge cheer. I shook my head and mounted Copper.

  Chapter 15

  Gettysburg- Day 3

  Attribution: Map by Hal Jespersen

  We took the Emmitsburg Road to get to Gettysburg. I knew that General Stuart would have the grandest house in Gettysburg for his headquarters. We found it quickly. Dago was outside enjoying a cigar when we arrived. He yelped his delight.

  “I knew it; I told the boys that Lucky Jack would still be alive.”

  I shrugged, “What else did you expect? Where are the men camped?”

  He saw Sergeant Jones behind me, “Half a mile north of town, sergeant.”

  I dismounted, “Take Copper with you sergeant and I will report to the colonel.”

  I strode up the steps as my depleted troop trotted off. I watched them as they departed. “You had it rough eh Jack?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. We were chased all the way to Gettysburg and we have been doing the job of a regiment since we got here. And you?”

  “I think the Yankees have the measure of General Stuart. They held us at Hanover and at Hunterstown today. They have a golden haired general who is the model of Stuart with bells on.” His face became serious. “We lost Jed and some good men the other day.”

  I could not believe it. Jed was one of the last of the original Wildcats. Now there were just five of us left, the colonel, Harry, Danny, Dago and me. All the rest littered Virginia, Maryland and now Pennsylvania. I had thought that Jed would survive this war and I wondered about the rest of us.

  “And I found out where that Irishman is who put a bounty on our heads.” I pointed to the south. “He is less than two miles away.”

  “And that might as well be on the moon. There must be fifty thousand men on this battlefield. At least that’s what the colonel said.”

  “You had better take me to him so that I can report.”

  The senior officers Wade Hampton, Fitzhugh–Lee and the colonels of all the regiments, were all gathered in the dining room. It was crowded and smoky and smelled of stale alcohol. They had all been drinking and bottles littered the floor. I couldn’t help comparing this with the men who had just fought to try to take Cemetery Ridge and making do with stale bread and salty pork. There was little justice in this world.

  Colonel Boswell saw me and walked unsteadily towards me, “Its Lucky Jack! Now we know we can win this battle!”

  Everyone cheered and I felt sick to my stomach. To these men it was a game but to the poor troopers like Trooper Duffy, this was life and death. If he lost his arm Duffy would be crippled and would not be as lucky as old Stumpy. He would have to eke out a living. If any of these officers lost a limb he would be rich enough for it not to affect him.

  “Sir, Captain Hogan reporting. General Hill has no further need of me.”

  “Excellent Jack.” Give the general your assessment of the battle thus far.”

  The room went silent and I realised that Dago and I were the only ones who were still sober. I sighed and explained what we had done. I told them of the Union resources I had discovered and the good defensive position the Yankees had created. None of them seemed at all put out by that.

  “Don’t worry Captain Hogan. We will strike tomorrow and defeat these damn Yankees. This upstart Custer will learn who the better general is!”

  I wanted to leave that instant. This was all about egos. It was not about the south or the war; it was like Ireland all over again. The rich ruled and the poor suffered. Here the officers prospered while ordinary men died. Many of the generals I knew did not survive the war but it galled me that even incompetents like General Sickles, who, although he had lost a leg that day, had a great political career ahead of him. The men who lay in the wheat field had nothing.

  I went outside with Dago. “How did Jed die?”

  “It was at Hanover. We ended up charging and their horse artillery scythed into Jed and his troop. There weren’t many survivors.”

  “How did Danny take it?”

  Dago pointed to the north. “He’s not here is he? He is in the camp with Harry and the men. Colonel Boswell spends more time with the other colonels than with us.”

  I looked at him. “And why are you here?”

  He looked hurt for a moment then his shoulders sagged. “All the other colonels have an aide. I am only a lieutenant. I got the short straw.” I could hear the bitterness in his voice.

  “Never mind, Dago. I will keep you company.” I looked to the south were we could still see the flashes of muskets in the Devil’s Den. “We don’t know how many more of these moments we will have.” I sat on the stoop. “I never even got to say goodbye to him.”

  “Neither did I. That is a luxury we don’t have.” He pointed upwards. “He is up there and he is watching us.”

  “You believe that?”

  Dago looked at me seriously, “We don’t talk about God and stuff like that but I know that you believe that your mom is watching over you.” I could not deny it and I nodded. “Then Jed is up there too and that gives me some comfort. He’ll be watching our backs tomorrow. The battlefield is no place for an atheist.”

  We carried our drunken colonel back to our camp. The general’s aide, who had not drunk as much as General Stuart, told us that we would not be operating with the Corps the following day but we had a special mission. My heart sank as we dragged our leader home. Special missions normally meant that my friends died.

  We were up before dawn the next day. Harry threw his arms around me. “I couldn’t believe it when Jed got killed. I thought we were special and nothing could touch us. The Wildcats are becoming fewer in number.”

  “I know. Listen Harry; let’s not take as many chances now.
I am not sure that it is worth it.”

  He laughed, “It never was. Remember Jack, that the colonel, when he was plain Mr Boswell, took us and gave us a life when we had nothing. You would still have been aboard the Rose, or drowned; who knows. Me? I would be either a drunk or dead in some bar fight. Jed and Dago are the same. So long as the colonel fights then we have to as well, because we owe him. Not the Confederacy and not General Jeb Stuart but James Boswell.” He shook his head. “We can do nothing about that. Danny and I talked about this last night before you and Dago came back. Life is a great adventure. Don’t over think it. We do this job and then you go and find your sister Caitlin.”

  I smiled and nodded and then I told him about Mary. “You are truly Lucky Jack. You have more reason to live than any of us. You have two women now in your life. That is twice as many as the rest of us put together. You will survive of that I have no doubt and the rest of us will watch down on you.”

  I was shocked, “Harry! This is not like you! You are not usually maudlin.”

  “No, but I am a realist, and I don’t have your luck.”

  I headed for my tent and Sergeant Major Mulrooney strode over to me beaming from ear to ear. ”I heard that you made it sir!”

  “And I am glad to see you too.” I handed him my carbine. “This broke a few days ago. You couldn’t look at it for me could you?”

  “Sir, I would be delighted.”

  The colonel was still a little hung over when the courier brought our orders. Danny read them. We were not to be with Stuart. We found out later that he spent the day fighting the Union cavalry at East Cavalry Field. Instead General Hill had requested that we support the attack of General Longstreet. We headed south to a date with destiny. We were to guard the right flank of General George Pickett’s division as they attacked the heart of the Union lines at Cemetery Ridge.

  We left as the first thin light of dawn peered over the eastern horizon. As we headed down the Emmitsburg Road we could see the fires of the Union pickets flickering on the skyline. The supply sergeant was probably beginning to fry his bacon and brew his coffee as we passed the Confederate troops who were making do with stale bread and watered down coffee dregs. The men we passed were, however, in good spirits.

  “Yee haw boys, you give ‘em hell!”

  We cheered them back. They probably thought we were going to charge the lines. Artillery men always liked the thought of their own cavalry hurtling across a field with guidons fluttering and sabres shining. The reality was different. Danny waved me forward.

  “Jack, you know this area well. The orders say that the attack will go directly east. Where does that place us?”

  “There is a stream called Plum Run. We can leave the horses at Codori Farm and head down to the valley bottom while it is still dark.” I looked at the lightening sky. “What time is the attack supposed to be?”

  “Some time after noon.”

  “Then we better make sure we have plenty of ammunition and supplies.”

  Danny nodded. “Sergeant Ritchie, go and see what you can dig up. Do you know where the farmhouse is?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Then meet us there.”

  I nodded to Danny and pointed at the colonel’s back. He was riding next to Harrison, the bugler and his shoulders sagged. “What is eating the colonel?”

  “He enjoyed playing cavalryman; the charges and the fighting with sabres. It is what he always really wanted to do and now he is missing out on a cavalry battle. He doesn’t like us being a supporting regiment. He wants us to be at the heart of the action.”

  “I have lost my appetite for action sir.”

  “I know what you mean.” He smiled brightly, “Still if this attack works today and General Stuart can attack them in the rear then this war could be over. Abe will have to sue for peace if we are loose in Pennsylvania.”

  “I have seen their cannon sir. This will not be an easy battle. Those men will have to charge uphill into the teeth of a fierce cannonade.”

  “Well, Jackie boy, at least we will have a front row view of the whole thing eh?”

  We left the horses with Sergeant James and four men. We should have left more but we had less than one hundred and twenty men left for this action. I was just pleased that Copper would be spared the fighting. I did not want lose my horse. Copper was worth more than a vainglorious charge. The colonel looked glumly at Major Murphy, “Well Danny, where to? You read the orders.”

  Danny deferred to me and I spoke, “Well sir, if we head down to the bottom of the valley we will be in dead ground. We can move forwards when the attack begins.”

  “You suddenly seem like an expert, Jack.”

  “I have been watching men attack across this valley for two days. The generals might have maps and know where the men are going but once the attack starts then anything can happen. I guess we need to be flexible.”

  Sergeant Ritchie and his men joined us. They had some sacks with them. “We managed to get some ham; it’s none too fresh but it will be better than nothing. We managed to get some ammunition off the Yankee prisoners from the other day.”

  Colonel Boswell waved an impatient hand, “Come on then; Captain Hogan lead them off.”

  The artillerymen gave us a cheer as we marched in single file down the slope. “We’ll blast a hole for you cavalry boys. You’ll just walk right through them!”

  Our troopers cheered but I was not so sure. Our guns were effective at close range but I did not think they would worry the Union forces too much. Cecil hurried to catch up with me. “Here sir,” he handed me my carbine, “it sure was in a bad way. Lucky I kept some parts from bust up guns. It’ll work fine from now on.”

  “Thanks Cecil, I don’t know what we would do without you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. The colonel was a good fifty paces behind us. “Between you and me sir, I wish I was your sergeant again. I am not cut out to be a Sergeant Major.”

  “You are Cecil but I am not sure that any of us are cut out for this.”

  When we reached the bottom I sent my company up the slope about a hundred yards. “Tell me what you can see.”

  When the colonel arrived I saw him pale as the dawn showed the bodies left over from the previous day. They were still littering the valley bottom. Reb and Yank were entwined in death. The smell would be atrocious once the July sun started to cook them.

  “How come nobody moved these bodies?”

  “I think they were more concerned with the living, colonel.”

  “They are going to stink when the sun gets up.”

  I looked at Dago and shook my head, “That’s war sir. Men die and their bodies rot.”

  It seemed to me that the reality of the situation finally sank in. This was not the glorious picture of war envisaged by the colonel. His dream of leading a regiment behind Jeb Stuart in a charge to win the war was a pipe dream. He sank to his haunches.

  Danny looked at him sadly. “Right, let’s get the men organised. Sergeant Major Mulrooney, spread the men out below Captain Hogan’s skirmishers. Tell them to rest while we can. Sergeant Ritchie, distribute those supplies.” He looked at the stream. “I was going to say fill the canteens but I ain’t going to drink that water.”

  I pointed to the north. “There are two good streams just the other side of the Emmitsburg Road.” I saw Sergeant Jones on the hillside. “Sergeant Jones, collect some canteens and head for Pitzer’s Run and get them filled with clean water.”

  While the sergeant and four men went back up the slope Danny and I slithered forwards to join my men. We could see, in the distance the ranks of cannon arrayed on the top of the ridge. Behind them we could just see the officers of the infantry regiments on their horses. I looked to the right and saw the Irish flag which marked the position of Mick O’Callaghan’s guns.

  “Those are the fellows who want us dead, Danny.”

  He looked in the direction I was pointing. “Where the flag is?”

  “Yup. We know he is
a sergeant but each gun will have one of those.”

  Danny looked at me; he had a wild grin on his face. “When the battle starts it would be nice and easy to crawl close to them guns eh? Mebbe end this once and for all.” I nodded. Yes, I would like that too. I hated looking over my shoulder and wondering if they were just the enemy or murderers. But we would obey orders and follow the colonel.

  It was just after noon when the one hundred and fifty Confederate guns began to roar across the valley. Soon the whole of the Emmitsburg Road was wreathed in smoke. We heard the whistling as balls and shells soared overhead. Strangely the Union guns remained silent. We could see nothing of our own lines now save a fog of smoke which rose in spirals. We knew that the men of Pickett’s division would be assembling and preparing to charge the Union lines. I did not know how they would charge for if we tried it as cavalry we would have to pause before the final assault. They would be running uphill and I did not think they would move very fast. The temperature was soaring. Although I would not drink the polluted water of Plum Run I did soak my jacket in it to cool me down. Others followed suit.

  The cannons fired for almost two hours and then they stopped. We all knew what that meant. The attack by the infantry would soon begin. Danny mobilised us. “Sergeant Major, get the men spread out. We will approach to within carbine range and harass the gunners.”

  I turned to Sergeant Ritchie, “Let’s go sergeant.”

  I made sure, for the umpteenth time that my carbine was loaded and we began to move up the slope. The shape of the hill meant that we saw nothing until we crested a bump and we saw the guns. I could see they were ready to fire for each gun captain had his lanyard in his hand. We still had another hundred yards to go before we were in range. An officer saw us and I expected an order from them to fire but I suspect we were too few in number to worry about. I risked a glance back to our own lines and saw that the smoke had cleared. There was a line of men a mile long and they were marching resolutely towards us.

  “Good God Almighty! Will you look at that?” There was wonder in Sergeant Ritchie’s voice.