“Upon the first indication of an invasion of Pennsylvania, the 26th Regiment, P. V. M., was organized and mustered into the United States service at Harrisburg, under the command of Colonel W. W. Jennings of that city. Company A of this regiment, to which I belonged, was composed of students from the Lutheran Theological Seminary and the Pennsylvania College at Gettysburg, and of citizens of the town; one other company came from Hanover, but a few miles distant.
“On June 23rd we left Harrisburg for Gettysburg, to be used, I believe, as riflemen among the hills at or near Cashtown. A railroad accident prevented this plan from being carried out, and kept us from reaching Gettysburg until the 26th, by which time General Early had reached Cashtown. In accordance with orders received from Major Granville O. Haller, acting aide-de-camp to General Couch, commanding the Department of the Susquehanna, we were marched out on the Chambersburg Pike at 10 A.M., June 26th, for a distance of about three and a half miles, accompanied by Major Robert Bell, who commanded a troop of horse, also raised, I understand, in Gettysburg. Having halted, our colonel, accompanied by Major Bell, rode to the brow of an elevation and there saw General Early’s troops a few miles distant.
“We, a few hundred men at most, were in the toils; what should be done? We would gladly have marched to join the Army of the Potomac, under Meade, but where was it? Our colonel, left to his own resources, wisely decided to make an effort to return to Harrisburg, and immediately struck off from the pike, the Confederates capturing many of our rear-guard after a sharp skirmish, and sending their cavalry in pursuit of us. These later overtook us in the afternoon at Witmer’s house, about four and a half miles from Gettysburg on the Carlisle Road, where, after an engagement, they were repulsed with some loss. After many vicissitudes, we finally reached Harrisburg, having marched 54 out of 60 consecutive hours, with a loss of some 200 men.
“It should be added that Gettysburg, small town as it was, had already furnished its quota to the army. Moreover, on the first day of the battle, hundreds of the unfortunate men of Reynolds’s gallant corps were secreted, sheltered, fed, and aided in every way by the men and women of the town.”
The First Soldier Killed at Gettysburg
George W. Sandoe, the first Union soldier killed at Gettysburg, was a member of Company B Independent 21st Pennsylvania Cavalry. Upon arriving at Gettysburg, June 26th, 1863, General Gordon sent out a picket line on the Baltimore Pike. As these pickets reached the Nathaniel Lightner property, George W. Sandoe and William Lightner, also a member of Company B, approached the pike, coming across the McAllister field from the direction of Rock Creek. Owing to a growth of bushes and trees along the fence, they did not discover the Confederate pickets until they were ordered to halt. Lightner at once jumped his horse across the fence and escaped by riding rapidly down the pike. Sandoe’s horse fell in making the leap, and in attempting to escape by riding back in the direction from which he came, Sandoe was shot. He lies buried at Mount Joy Church, in Mount Joy, Adams County.
A Mysterious Letter
Having passed through Gettysburg on June 28th, General John B. Gordon, of Lee’s army, went on to York and Wrightsville before returning on July 1st. In his “Reminiscences of the Gettysburg Campaign” he tells the following story:
“We entered the city of York on Sunday morning. Halting on the main street, where the sidewalks were densely packed, I rode a few rods in advance of my troops, in order to speak to the people from my horse. As I checked him and turned my full dust-begrimed face upon a bevy of ladies very near me, a cry of alarm came from their midst; but after a few words of assurance from me, quiet and apparent confidence were restored. I assured these ladies that the troops behind me, though ill-clad and travel-stained, were good men and brave; that beneath their rough exteriors were hearts as loyal to women as ever beat in the breasts of honorable men; that their own experience and the experience of their mothers, wives, and sisters at home had taught them how painful must be the sight of a hostile army in their town; that under the orders of the Confederate commander-in-chief both private property and non-combatants were safe; that the spirit of vengeance and of rapine had no place in the bosoms of these dust-covered but knightly men; and I closed by pledging to York the head of any soldier under my command who destroyed private property, disturbed the repose of a single home, or insulted a woman.
“As we moved along the street after this episode, a little girl, probably twelve years of age, ran up to my horse and handed me a large bouquet of flowers in the center of which was a note in delicate handwriting, purporting to give the numbers and describe the position of the Union forces of Wrightsville, toward which I was advancing. I carefully read and reread this strange note. It bore no signature and contained no assurance of sympathy for the Southern cause, but it was so terse and explicit in its terms as to compel my confidence. The second day we were in front of Wrightsville, and from the high ridge on which this note suggested that I halt and examine the position of the Union troops, I eagerly scanned the prospect with my field-glasses, in order to verify the truth of the mysterious communication or detect its misrepresentations.