Gettysburg National Battlefield
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
July 25-26, 1998 July 10th. 1863
Army Hospital
Harrisburg, Pa.

Dear Father,

By now you have read the accounts of the battle at Gettysburg, Pa. You are probably more knowledgeable of the full details of the battle than I, since you are able to avail yourself of several newspapers back in Hartford. I however being but a private soldier, and not privy to the officer's reports, know only of what I was directly involved in.

I am afraid that I have some hard news for you, Father. Us Connecticut boys were heavily engaged on the last day of the battle. We were placed in the middle of the Union position, behind a stout stone wall that angled out on our right flank upwards toward our artillery. It was a hot, humid day and although there was a small grove of trees nearby on the left, they were too far away to afford us any shade. We were under a strong artillery barrage for what seemed to be an hour or more, then the Johnnies came out of the woods way across the field, dressed their ranks, and started coming. Some are calling it "Longstreet's Charge" and some just call it the "Grand Charge" but I must tell you, those Rebs meant to take our wall away from us. We decided that we'd like to hold onto it for just a little while longer, so when they got in range, we leveled our muskets at them and let fly.

Now, you'd figure that with all of the cannons and muskets being fired at them that those Rebs would get discouraged and go back home. They were of a singularly stubborn disposition. Those boys climbed up on our wall and came on over. I turned to see if we had any maneuvering room, because it looked like we were going to have to give way.

That was the last thing that I remember about the battle. The next thing I knew, I was lying under the shade of a poncho canopy in a barnyard with many wounded men. My head hurt like the dickens, and I couldn't see out of my left eye. I felt my head and found that I had been bandaged up pretty heavily. Oh, the misery that surrounded me ! There must have been twenty men lying in the dirt there at that barnyard. Some were wounded in the hands and arms, some in the feet and legs. To my horror, there was our drummer boy, gasping for air, a large wound in his chest.

The flies, filth, and stench were enough to drive a man insane. The hot sun beat down upon us all and baked our wounds. Misery and despair reigned supreme, we had been forgotten by our Army. I learned that we had been overrun in the attack and that I had been carried here only after our troops had counter attacked and driven the greybacks away. That had been nearly two days ago. We needed attention and we needed water. We got neither.

Suddenly a staff officer came upon our dying group. "Who's in charge here ?" He bellowed. A sergeant struggled to his feet and weakly saluted. They had a short conversation and the officer called for an orderly who rushed to us carrying a canvas bucket full of warm dirty water. Water !!! How it revived our spirits and gave us hope ! "You will have to move," the officer said. "Anyone that can move on their own must help those who cannot."

We staggered to our feet, and one by one began our long (five mile) march to an aid station. A stretcher and barers had been found for our drummer and we hoped for the best. Two of our group, men of my own company, became delirious from their wounds and exertions and staggered off into the woods. "Going into town" they said , "we'll be right back." We were too weak and numb from pain and exhaustion to stop them. We had to go on. They were never seen again, (God help them).

The last mile was the worst and most of us had reached the end of our endurance. If it hadn't been for the ministrations of a kind orderly that had been detailed to lead us to the aid station, we all would have perished. He shared what water he had, sang to us, cheered us, and half carried us when we were "all in." I don't know this angel's name. He was a man of some years, gray bearded, and clear of eye. Everyone knew him as "Pops," and I hope that he receives a King's reward when he meets his Maker.

We finally reached the aid station and to a man collapsed under the shade of some canvas that had been rigged there. We were immediately surrounded by representatives of the U.S. Sanitary Commission and the Christian Commission, offering us help and assistance that was sorely needed. Nurses came to us and soothed the wounds of men who were so disfigured by war, filth and exertion that they would have been shunned by most other people. Ah ! A pound of gold to each of them !! While we waited for the surgeon to examine us, the nurses cleaned our wounds and offered what comforts they could. They soothed us with scented waters (essences of lavender and lemon) , and talked to us of home, health and hope.

For some of us it would be in vain. Our drummer breathed his last just as the surgeon was examining him. Poor lad ! He was only 13 or 14 years of age and had no one in this world, save the men of our company. His passing will be mourned by all for years to come. Another man, his foot badly mangled by a ball, was shouting to the surgeon, "you can't take my foot !!! I'm a farmer !!!!" The soldier was given some ether, and the foot was amputated. If he survives, he will need to find another trade.

I was seen by the surgeon and had my head wound re-dressed. Much to my relief my vision was restored, (my left eye had been closed up due to clotted blood, when this was washed away my eye opened up unharmed).

As soon as wagons were available, we were sent to the trains and from there to a hospital. Here we receive first rate help: dressings are changed as needed, there is plenty of fresh air and water, and -- we sleep on beds !!! Father, you cannot imagine the restorative power that lies in a good nights sleep ! Our nurses tend to our healing wounds, and minister to our broken and bruised spirits. Miss Pat and her ladies have helped us more than any pill or other medication ever can. Some of us have had letters written for us, some of us have had letters and books read to us (what a joy !). We are well fed and we now have hope.

I do not know if I will be allowed any leave to come home to recuperate. If I do, I will come home straight away. If not, I will do the best I can to regain my health right here. There is a new feeling among the boys in this army Father. We finally beat old "Bobby Lee" at his own game. And we all mean to see this war out to its end.

Make sure you greet everyone back home for me. Let them know that I am recovering and that I send them my best. Keep me in your prayers Father, as I keep you in mine. Lord willing I will be home soon.

Your loving Son,

Steven