Yesterday Franklin Horner and the 12^th Pennsylvania Reserves marched until 1:00 a.m., some twenty-five miles. Today they began marching at 6:00 a.m. He writes that they have halted within sight of the rebels and are expecting to march onto the battlefield soon. Suddenly, his writing changes to present tense, the immediacy so great he forgets punctuation: “ evening we are on the battlefield and in line of battle the boys are determined to drive the rebels out of the state the battle is rageing [sic} fiercely now we will soon be in.”

From Thomas Ware’s diary on this Thursday we learn that he marches through Cashtown and came in sight of Gettysburg. They rested in an “old field” until 2:00 p.m. “…at which time we left to Attack the Enemy. After passing through a very heavy shelling for 20 minutes we rested and then formed a line of battle. Here at the foot of the mountain the engagement became general & fierce…”

Franklin Horner, exhausted from marching, lack of sleep, little food and the sheer nervousness of not knowing whether, in ten minutes, he would be alive or dead, ends up on the boulder-strewn west slope of a small hill south of Gettysburg, which would later come to be known as Little Round Top. It is from there he writes his entry in his diary.

Thomas Ware, his brother Robert, and the rest of the men of the 15^th Georgia have marched hours with but little rest to finally end up at the lower end of an oddly-shaped triangular field near a jumble of huge boulders the locals call the Devils Den. Just beyond Ware in the Triangular Field, within musket-range in fact, is the upper slope of Little Round Top where Horner stands, two American enemies, after 35 days of campaigning, finally on the same part of the battlefield at Gettysburg.

It is here where I must end my narrative. I do not want to spoil the ending of the book for those interested in reading it. A hint as to how it ends: one soldier lives, the other dies.

I will share an interesting story, a “perk” so to speak, associated with the writing of the book. Several years after it was published, I received a letter from a resident of Washington, Georgia, asking if I would like to speak to the descendants of Thomas Ware. That was a particularly busy year for me so I deferred, suggesting perhaps a later time. I honestly never expected to hear from him again. But Gary Norman was persistent, and the next year my wife Carol and I flew to Atlanta and drove our rental car through a night-time thunderstorm to Washington. We were put up in a delightfully restored building owned by the president of the local historical society. The next day we were treated to lunch with over 25 Wares, Normans, and Remsens, names which appear in the roster of Company G, 15^th Georgia Infantry.

One person I was particularly interested in meeting was Mary Lucy (Ware) Probst, Thomas Ware’s grand-niece, whose name had been given to me by family member Ken Norman early in my research. Every family should be lucky enough to have someone like Mary Lucy in it, for if they did their heritage would never be lost. I spoke with and wrote to her numerous times during the development of the book. It was only fitting that I should present to her, on behalf of the family, the microfilmed copy of Thomas Ware’s entire diary, which I had purchased from the University of North Carolina, Southern Historical Collection for my research. Now, anyone in the family can read first hand of their relative’s heroic, harrowing journeys.

I spoke that afternoon to some thirty heirs to the legacy of the one Confederate soldier, out of several hundred thousand, whom I had chosen to represent all the rest. For me it was emotional to have gotten to know their ancestor so well, and to pass that information on to them. I spoke about observations he had made of the land through which he was marching and how many of those landmarks remain. I talked about how astounded I was that throughout his entire diary, there were no references to slavery for this Southerner. The only “N” word Thomas ever used was “Negro” speaking of someone named Steve who sent him some food from home. I told them of the admiration I had for their kin, who endured more, physically and emotionally, than anyone should have to protect his family back in Georgia. I told them how honored I was that they should invite me to speak to them.

Gary Norman’s wife Suzanne is a Ware. They sponsored a reception at their house after my speech to the family. Speaking to Suzanne about the research and miles traveled to produce the book, I told of my one disappointment. In all the volumes of books and papers I perused and the archives I visited, I never found a photo of Thomas Ware. I had no idea what this young man, whose life I had chronicled, whose most intimate hopes and fears I was privy to,  looked like.

“Oh,” Suzanne said. “I have his photo hanging on my wall.” She walked me into the house and handed me a small picture of the young man whose life took up so much of my life for the past several years. I felt a well of emotion as I looked into his face. Two words, probably sounding strange to the rest of the Ware family who had gathered around, but summing up all that he and I had been through over the several years it took to research and write his book came out of my mouth:

“Hello, Thomas.”

This Tuesday, the last day of June, was the day Franklin Horner and his fellow Union soldiers mustered for pay. They took up the line of march at 7:00 a.m. and marched until 7:00 p.m. covering some 20 miles. As they passed through several towns they uncased the colors—their flags—and had their bands play martial music.

Thomas Ware began their march about 9:00 a.m. It was a short day ending at 1:00 p.m. stopping to camp in the town of Fayetteville. His comrades gathered a large amount of cherries, which were in season in Pennsylvania and, as he put it, “We made fences fly…” for firewood, of course. He has some time to write a letter home.

Horner casually mentions that they marched twenty miles this day, but it was probably one of the hardest marches he’s had to make. They are on the move for twelve hours, which means a lot of it was stop and go before they could go into camp and take a long rest.

Since it is the end of the month, there are some administrative duties each company has to take care of. They determine how many men are present and accounted for so that they can requisition money from the government to pay them for their service. In the Union army, pay was $13 per month.

The end-of-the-month muster also gives us a general—but not specific—idea of the troop strengths at the time. When historians analyzed the muster records, they felt confident in determining the number of soldiers present on July 1, the opening of the Battle of Gettysburg. But there are variables: men get sick overnight, or drop out of the ranks marching the next day. In addition, the muster rolls give only an approximate number of combat troops. There were thousands more non-combatants, from teamsters to farriers to personal servants to “camp followers” who accompanied the armies and remained behind the lines during combat. The total number of human beings being drawn to this part of Pennsylvania as if caught in a whirlpool may never be known; but it certainly was more that the 97,000 Union and 75.000 Confederate combat troop figures we used in the National Park Service.

Once again, the Federals are marching an inside arc to the Confederates’ sweep northward and eastward. The rebels had been reported in York and so Horner’s unit is sent toward the east, always trying to be the buffer between the enemy and their capital. Music playing and flags flying while marching through northern towns were more for the civilians’ benefit than the soldiers. Horner, who had lived through the bloodiest single day in all of American History at the Battle of Antietam, knows he is headed toward yet another, and potentially bloodier battle with one of the finest and most deadly armies on the face of the planet; one that had already whipped his army more than once before. The cheering civilian residents of the towns may not have exactly inculcated Horner and his fellow veterans with confidence.

Perhaps because of the extra free time he has thanks to a short march, Ware’s thoughts turn homeward and he records in a sort of code that he has been using, that he wrote a letter to “J. B. F.” Throughout his diary, Thomas Ware uses his alphabet code to record letters he sends to someone at home. Could it be that he has a sweetheart in Washington, Georgia?

This night, Ware and Horner are only thirty-seven miles apart, a day’s march for each of these American enemies to a collision-point.

For Franklin Horner, the campaign has begun in earnest. Starting at 6:00 a.m. they march until 1:00 p.m. and encamp near Buckeystown, MD. Horner writes that they have joined up with the Army of the Potomac’s Fifth Corps.

For Thomas Ware, just north of Chambersburg, PA, it is a welcomed day of rest. He writes about the “soldiers taking evry [sic] thing. Camps full of chickens, butter & milk. Our mess had a chicken stew, cherries in great abundance…can get almost any thing at your own price.” He records what a rich country it is north of the Mason-Dixon line and how thickly settled it is. “People all Dutch…Our army living all-together on what we capture. Our advance infantry at or near ‘Harrisburg.’”

The last two days for Ware have been eye-openers. His comments yesterday concerning how many young men in Chambersburg are not in the army must make him realize that there is an abundance of manpower in the north. Even during this huge Confederate invasion, they haven’t been called upon to serve. As well, today’s observations about the agricultural riches in the area must be a harbinger of the importance of making this a successful campaign and a short war, since it appears that the north’s resources are vast.

His comments about the people all being “Dutch” refers to the fact that this part of Pennsylvania was settled by German (“Deutsch”) immigrants. This area and the area to the east are still populated with Hollabaughs, Weikerts, Trostles, Spanglers, Culps (and Kulps) and even a Stoltzfus or two.

My narrative in 35 Days to Gettysburg for this day covers the organization Horner and the men of the 12^th Pennsylvania Reserves just joined. It is a template for the way both armies are organized. The 12^th Pennsylvania Reserves is a regiment that joins four other Pennsylvania Reserve regiments to form Fisher’s Third Brigade. Two brigades (the First and Fisher’s Third) made up General Crawford’s Third Division. Three Divisions made up the Fifth Army Corps. Finally, the Fifth Corps (pronounced “core”) was one of seven army corps (plus a cavalry corps) that made up the 97,000 man Army of the Potomac.

The same regiment-brigade-division-corps-army organization was employed in the 75,000 man Confederate Army with a few minor differences.

I use all figures guardedly. These are the figures we used when I worked for the National Park Service, and I’ve heard different ones from historians since. The point is, nobody knows for certain.

We used the figure 620,000 men dead from both sides after the four years of Civil War. We used to say that more Americans died in the Civil War than in the Spanish-American War, WW I, WW II, Korea, and Vietnam all added together. We’ve had some wars since, but as if to make the Civil War our most horrible conflict in perpetuity, a historian re-analyzed the census figures and upped the death figure to 850,000.

To make that more relevant to modern times, recall that the country was about one-tenth the size it is today, so you must multiply either of those figure by ten to accommodate for the century-and-a-half of growth. Imagine if one of our four-year wars today cost eight MILLION five hundred thousand American lives. Figures that large are almost too big to wrap your head around. But if you boil is all down to individuals, the tragedy on a family-to-family basis is incalculable.

Franklin Horner and his fellow Union soldiers begin their march to join the rest of the Federal army at 5:30 a.m. this Friday. They marched through Dranesville, VA, passed the Union Army’s Sixth Corps, and camped at 4:00 p.m. He wrote that the men were getting too tired to march much more. It rained a little this night, and they get orders to be ready to march at 5 the next morning.

Thomas Ware talks about the rainy morning he experiences. Being to the west of Horner, it’s probably the same shower that dampened him that evening. Once again, Ware records in detail his march route and the towns he passed through. After the first four miles, they ford the Potomac River (only a little over knee deep). They also cross the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal, which parallels the Potomac. It was still raining, so the boys were issued “a dram…Several of the boys got quite drunk & we had a jolly set.” Several more miles brought them to the Maryland and Pennsylvania line. After 16 miles of marching, they encamped, found that it was cherry season in Pennsylvania, supplied themselves and were “…living finely.”

I found it interesting that the Confederate troops were issued a “dram” of whiskey, apparently to warm them up after marching in the rain and wading the Potomac. Thought to be a stimulant during the Civil War, according to Ware it made a few of the men “jolly,” and a few more belligerent, mentioning that a few fights broke out along the march.

For Thomas Ware, this is a momentous day: He has been in three states, is probably farther north than he has ever been in his life, and officially becomes an invader of a northern state.

Like a giant ship passing by, the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia begins drawing Union troops toward it. Horner and his comrades, after digging entrenchments outside of Washington, now must call on a new set of muscles to catch up with Lee’s invaders. His route takes Horner from Ball’s Crossroads toward Leesburg (modern route 7). They march beyond Leesburg and, too tired to go any farther after fifteen miles, encamp outside of town.

The Chesapeake & Ohio (C & O) Canal was created in the early 1800s to open commerce to the west from Washington and the east along its 184.5-mile length. But shortly after its completion, the railroads began their expansion westward. Where the Canal could transport cargo and passengers at the speed of a mule towing a barge, the railroads could do the same at an astounding thirty or forty miles per hour. The Canal eventually fell into financial ruin, but the towpath continued to be used by the military as a road. Today it is a wonderful recreational area for hikers and bikers along the scenic Potomac.

By now Confederate troops were fanning out toward Harrisburg, the capital of Pennsylvania, and York, PA, on the road to Philadelphia. In fact, this very day, Confederate general Jubal Early’s men pass through one of the number of small Pennsylvania towns they will capture during the invasion. As in every other town, they request supplies: 60 barrels of flour, 7,000 pounds of bacon, 1,200 pounds of sugar, 600 pounds of coffee, 1,000 pounds of salt, 40 bushels of onions, 1,000 pairs of shoes and 500 hats. The mayor of the town is worried and writes to Early, “The quantities required are far beyond that in our possession.” Early’s men take what they can and move on, never realizing that they will be returning in less than a week, albeit under more difficult circumstances, to the town of Gettysburg.

At this point, the Confederate movement into the north has no name, since no one knows where—or if—it will end. Their goals are to draw the northern hosts out of the south for a growing season and bring relief to the farmers there. Perhaps this invasion will garner worldwide recognition to their cause of independence and give more credence to the arguments of the Peace Party in the north. Most of all, the Confederate leaders wish to force the north into some sort of negotiations toward the Confederacy’s independence. Nowhere do you see this invasion called “The Gettysburg Campaign” because there is no reason to connect Gettysburg to it. One day hundreds of books and millions of words will be written about it, but for Horner and Ware, it draws but a few lines in their diaries.