This was a piece of open ground, where it seemed all the shells that passed through the trees in the grove stopped and ploughed into the earth, and scattered the dirt or exploded in the air and scattered the pieces of iron.
I felt for the minute and a half that I was out from under the imaginary protection of the trees, that the whole Rebel Army were after me. Really I was so badly rattled that I did not know whether I was on a horse or afoot. Once behind the big brick Seminary Building, I felt it safe enough to dismount, cool off myself and the horse, and repair damages.
Discovering that both the horse and myself were unharmed, and being anxious to see how the rest of them out that way were getting along, I availed myself of my privilege as a signal man on the Staff, and climbed the stairs to the top of the building, getting out on the cupola.
There were several Generals up there. They were somewhat excited, and talking together in an earnest manner about something that was going on in another part of the field.
They left the cupola as if they were in a hurry. So did I, without stopping to examine the outlook very closely. There was plenty to be seen—it was quite a moving panorama of blue and gray, and far more realistic from that platform than the cyclorama I have viewed from similar elevations in the center of the battle scenes they depict.
I noticed from the cupola that there was some excitement or stir to the right of the town. I had not thought of there being any Rebels, except those I had seen immediately in our front. As I had seen enough of this part of the field, I concluded to go over to the right and see what I could do to save the day there.
I went down the steps, three or four at a jump, and was on my horse before any of the Generals, who had preceded me.
I rode out toward the right as far as it was expedient for a horse to go.
In 1863 there was a railroad embankment, or fill, along that edge of the town. Behind this I dismounted and fastened my horse to a fence, discreetly advanced as dismounted cavalry to reconnoiter, and, if possible, learn what all the fuss over here was about. I soon found out—one good look was enough. There was another barn out that road, and from behind it, or from all corners, puffs of white smoke were to be seen at frequent intervals. Beyond this there were other lines of this same white smoke; and, before I knew exactly what was going on, there came suddenly from another direction that awful sharp din of volleys of musketry. Dear me, how sharp and how sudden the noise of musketry—it rings to-day in my ear, after a lapse of twenty-five years, as distinctly as it were but yesterday. I frequently visit Gettysburg—the place has a strange fascination for me. As I walk alone over the very ground I am trying to tell about here, I recall every incident, and wonder, and wonder, in the strange quiet of the old town, where all the 200,000 are to-day!
"No marshalling troops, no bivouac song,
No banner to gleam and wave;
But, Oh these battles! they last so long—
From boyhood to the grave."