Gordon made no tarrying in York, but moved on toward Wrightsville, with orders to burn the long railroad bridge crossing the Susquehanna. A few hours later marched in Early’s advance brigade—General ex-Governor William Smith on a fine horse at its head. Now this brigade had a very good band, as bands went in the Confederate service, and this band proposed to enter York playing “Dixie”! Indeed, they had begun the familiar strains when an aide appeared, “General says you ‘tooting fellows’ are temporarily to lay that air in lavender. When you are in Rome, play what Rome likes, or, in other words, Virginians, take your manners along! He says come up front and play ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
York was out of doors for this brigade as it had been for Gordon’s. In the sunny mid-afternoon, the column swung into its main street, “Extra Billy” riding at the head, beaming like the sun. Hero of a hundred hustings, he always took his manners with him; and indeed, as they came from his heart, he could not do otherwise. At the head of town he took off his hat, kept it in his hand, and began bowing right and left, always with his hearty, beamy smile. Behind him rode his smiling staff, and behind staff came the band, horns and drums giving “Yankee Doodle.”
The citizens of York upon the sidewalks—and they were crowded—developed a tendency to keep pace with the head of the column. It presently arrived that General William Smith, like a magnet, was carrying with him a considerable portion of the population. Before the procession opened the public square, bathed in a happy light. The band, having come to an end of “Yankee Doodle,” played “Dixie,” then slipped again into the first, then happily blended the two. Staff was laughing, regimental officers broadly smiling, the troops behind in the best of spirits. All poured into the sunny square, where were more of the inhabitants of York. “Tell ’em to halt,” ordered the ex-Governor, “and tell those tooting fellows to stop both tunes. These are nice people and I am going to give them a speech.”
He gave it, sitting very firm on his fine horse, to an open-mouthed-and-eyed crowd, behind him the troops at rest, the whole throng, invaded and invaders, filling the square and the street. He spoke in his geniallest fashion, with his mellowest voice and happiest allusions. The warm, yellow, late June sunshine flooded the square, lighting the curious throng, and that worn, grey, citizen soldiery, making a splendour of the brass instruments of the band and wrapping General William Smith in a toga of airy gold. “Ladies and gentlemen (and York has such beautiful ladies),” spoke “Extra Billy,” “as you see, we are back in the Union! May we not hope that you are glad to see us? I assure you that we are glad to see you! I wish that we were dressed for visiting, but you’ll excuse us, we know! What we all need on both sides is to mingle more with each other, so that we shall learn to know and appreciate each other’s good qualities. Now—”
From behind arose a murmur. The aides looked over their shoulders and beheld a pushing to the front on the part of some person or persons. Whatever it was, cavalry squad trying to pass, aides, or couriers, general officer, and staff—there was difficulty in attracting the attention of the grinning, absorbed troops sufficiently to let the party by.
“Now,” continued General William Smith, “we aren’t at all the villains and cut-throats that you’ve been seeing in your dreams! Clothes don’t make the man, and we’re better than our outfit. When this little rumpus is all over and you come visiting us in the Confederacy of the South (and I hope that the beautiful ladies of York will come often and come in summer-time, for we want to have a tournament and crown them all Queens of Love and Beauty)—when this little border war is over, I say—”
The party from the rear had now got to the front. A thin, stoop-shouldered man, with a long, thin beard and glittering, small black eyes, rose in his stirrups, leaned forward, and brought a vehement hand down upon “Extra Billy’s” shoulder. His voice followed—Jubal A. Early’s voice—a fierce sing-song treble. “General Smith, what the Devil are you about?—stopping the head of this column in this cursed town!”
“Extra Billy’s” smile, manly and beaming and fearless, stayed with him. “Why, General, just having a little fun! Good for us all, sir; good for us all!”
Smith’s brigade moved on, to be followed by Hoke’s and Harry Hays’s. Camp was pitched a mile or two out of town, “Old Jube,” however, resting with Avery’s command in York. “I made,” he reports, “requisition upon the authorities for 2000 pairs of shoes, 1000 hats, 1000 pairs of socks, $100,000 in money, and three days’ rations of all kinds. Subsequently between 1200 and 1500 pairs of shoes, the hats, socks, and rations were furnished, but only $28,600 in money, which was paid to my quartermaster, the mayor and other authorities protesting their inability to get any more money, as it had all been run off previously, and I was satisfied they made an honest effort to raise the amount called for.”
He continues: “A short time before night, I rode out in the direction of Columbia Bridge, to ascertain the result of Gordon’s expedition, and had not proceeded far before I saw an immense smoke rising in the direction of the Susquehanna, which I subsequently discovered to proceed from the bridge in question. This bridge was one mile and a quarter in length, the superstructure being of wood on stone pillars, and it included in one structure a railroad bridge, a pass-way for wagons, and also a tow-path for the canal which here crosses the Susquehanna. The bridge was entirely consumed, and from it the town of Wrightsville caught fire, and several buildings were consumed, but the farther progress of the flames was arrested by the exertions of Gordon’s men.... On the evening of the twenty-ninth, I received through Captain Elliott Johnston, aide to General Ewell, a copy of a note from General Lee which required me to move back so as to rejoin the rest of the corps on the western side of the South Mountain, and accordingly, at daylight on the morning of the thirtieth, I put my whole command in motion.... I encamped about three miles from Heidlersburg, and rode to see General Ewell at that point, and was informed by him that the object was to concentrate the corps at or near Cashtown, and I received directions to move next day at that point.... After passing Heidlersburg a short distance, I received a note from General Ewell informing me that General Hill was moving from Cashtown towards Gettysburg, and that General Rodes had turned off at Middletown and was moving toward the same place, and directing me also to move to that point. I therefore continued to move on the road I was then on toward Gettysburg....”