(This series is only loosely based on facts surrounding the Gettysburg campaign of 1863. None of the major characters are intended to represent any real persons. Units, corps, and other battle-related facts are not meant to exactly mirror the actions of either army at Gettysburg.)
June 29, 1863
Outside Chambersburg, PA
Elizabeth Wade opened the back door and peeked in both directions. She dared not go out the front. Rumors of Confederates in the area had been discarded by Mrs. Wade until the previous evening, when smoke rose above the trees less than two miles to the east, where there should have been no smoke.
Now she gathered up the shawl that hung from her neck and walked briskly towards the barn. She'd do the chores as normal, but with an eye cast up the road. Her long brown hair fluttered behind her as she moved rapidly, nervously taking care of chickens, cows and pigs.
In all her thirty years, she was never this frightened. Oh, how she wanted her Robert home with her. They said they would add to their family of four when he returned. Until the danger passed, her son and daughter were with her mother in Pittsburgh. She prayed every night they would all live long enough to be back together.
A short distance away, to the east of the Wade farm, the men Elizabeth feared most huddled around morning campfires.
"I hear that ol' Lee has no clue where the yankees are," Sam Fisher grumbled, poking at the fire with a stick.
"Yeah. Showman Jeb has gone on another of his publicity seeking joyrides with the cavalry and kinda left him guessing," Jack Campbell replied, pulling off his coat.
The morning air was already full of humidity and warmth, not a good sign for the travel-worn members of the 102nd Virginia infantry. They had left the comfort and safety of Virginia three weeks previous and were now in southern Pennsylvania, living meagerly off the land or what they could 'buy' from the locals as they passed through.
It was rolling farmland mainly, with thick woods, corn and wheat fields, and the occasional small village. Hatred for the Confederates was more than evident, although violent hostility was rare. Days were spent marching and foraging.
And repeatedly reading the latest mail from home. Jack pulled out the most recent letter from his wife Jennie, back on the farm in southwest Virginia.
Sam was rambling on, but Jack was lost deep in thought about his beautiful brown eyed wife and their two year old daughter. The only picture he had of Jennie was nearly faded out, and rains from a few weeks ago left it wrinkled. But he kept it with the letter and used them both as reasons to continue living from day to day.
He was almost done reading when a sergeant rushed up.
"Campbell. Fisher," the short, bearded man bellowed. "Go get Wilson and an empty wagon and take a ride down that road."
The sergeant pointed to a nearby dirt path heading west.
"Don't start no trouble. Just find whatever supplies you can. Bread. Meat. Especially meat," he said. "Bacon. Ham. Whatever they got at the first farm you come to. Give 'em a receipt and tell 'em Richmond will send 'em cash."
He was about to leave, but turned and said, "And keep your hands off the women."
Jack and Sam were actually pleased to have something to keep them occupied for a few hours. Neither of them had made an 'official' visit to a farm on the march into Pennsylvania, so it promised to offer a nice reprieve from the daily routine. And the youngster Wilson would be entertaining, if not necessarily helpful."
Jack Campbell was twenty five. Tall, lean, and good looking, his rugged face and body made him the target of many young women before Jennie latched on. He was smart, dedicated to the cause, and fearless.
Sam was in his mid thirties, heavier set with an unkempt beard, as opposed to Jack's neatly trimmed facial hair. Sam had volunteered right after the news of Fort Sumter, and had fought in several hot spots already. His calm demeanor was soothing to the newly enlisted Jack.
Wilson was just eighteen. He joined the 102nd in May. Little did he know what he was in for, but his youth made him blind to it anyway.
As soon as a wagon was found, the three soldiers set off down the road. Morning fog was lifting and bright sunshine overhead promised good weather. The only sounds, once they left the proximity of the camp, came from the mourning doves, pheasants, and wagon wheels on the gravel path.
"I'd pay the devil for some new shoes," Sam groused while fumbling with his boots. "These gave out sometime around Sharpsburg."
"I heard somebody say there's a town close by called Gettysburg that was supposed to have shoes," Jack said. "Maybe we'll get there."
"Or maybe that farm has some," Wilson said, pointing at a farmhouse when they got to the top of a small rise in the road.
"I see a smokehouse," Jack said, squinting in the morning sun. "And I hear cattle. So far so good."
"Now if these folk get nasty," Sam warned, "we're to turn right back and skedaddle. Got it?"
Jack and Wilson nodded.
Jack was paying more attention to a figure he saw between the smokehouse and the farmhouse. There was no mistaking the sight of a woman; a woman with long, flowing, dark hair that reminded him instantly of Jennie. Even the way she moved was like her.
The three Confederates saw her look their way. She stopped dead in her tracks. And then rushed inside the back of the house.
"She's getting her man," Sam said. "Remember, no trouble here or the sergeant will have us hung from a tree."
The two-story farmhouse sat in front of a medium size farm by northern standards. The rebs would have loved to own a farm as nice, with its German barn, outbuildings, and smokehouse. And as soon as they saw the horses in the first barn they passed, each of them knew they would not come away empty handed from this scavenger hunt.
Once off the wagon, they approached cautiously, instinctively separating themselves by several paces to make it harder for someone to take them all out at once. But no shots were fired by the time they were at the rear of the house. Sam stepped onto the creaky back porch and pounded on the door.
He moved to the side of the door, musket raised at his side, ready for quick use if need be.
"Who is it?" a female voice called out.
"Open up, ma'am," Sam ordered.
A short pause was followed by an unlatching of the door and another squeak as it opened. Sam could only see the woman's frightened face.
"Members of the 102nd Virginia infantry, first corps, under the command of Major General Pickett and General Longstreet, here to purchase from you necessary supplies in compliance with the orders of commanding General Lee. Open up, ma'am."
Elizabeth had been told by Esther McVicker just the week before that the rebels wiped out entire villages that refused to supply them. Her survival the rest of the summer depended on her store of meat. Yet, disobedience meant never getting to see Robert again.
She opened the door half way, enough to see the faces of the three men encircling her porch.
"I've got nothing," she said with a quivering voice.
"Where's your husband?" Sam asked.
"He's in town. He'll be back soon," she replied.
Same wouldn't have believed her even without looking into her eyes.
