Free Gallant Boys of Gettysburg by Gilbert L. Morris

“Don’t feel too good … but I’ll be all right,” Pete said. His voice was weak and thin, and he asked for water.
    Jeff sprang up to get it.
    Pete drank thirstily, then said, “Like I said, Jeff … it’s a good thing … we had our talk last night.”
    “You still know that the Lord’s with you?” Tom asked.
    “Sure do. Never had anything … like this before. I’ve always knowed … I needed something … but I didn’t know it was God. I ain’t never gonna forget … callin’ on God. I wish everyone … in the whole army … would do it.”
    Tom smiled. “Well, when you get better you’ll be able to preach to ’em some.”
    “Dunno as I can do that … but I can sure tell ’em … about how Jesus came into my life.”
    When Tom and Jeff returned to their squad, they found Henry Mapes and Curley Henson talking.
    Curley looked up. “How’s Simmons doing?”
    “He’s hit pretty bad. I hope he makes it, but I just don’t know.” Then Tom said, “What’s gonna happen tomorrow?”
    “I think we’re gonna have another run at ’em,” Mapes said.
    Curley shook his head. “It won’t do no good. They’re up on top of those hills. We’d have to march right across that open field to get at ’em. I sure hope we don’t do that.”
    Jeff looked in the direction of the ridge where the Union army lay. “I can’t imagine marching across that field into the fire of the cannon and the rifles of the Union soldiers on top of that hill. They’ll never make us do that,” he said. “General Lee wouldn’t send us into a thing like that.”
    “I don’t know. General Lee ain’t been himself this campaign,” Tom said. “Pa said he’s been sick—got some kind of heart trouble. He’s just not thinking like you’d expect Marse Robert to think.”
    Tom stared up at the low ridge. “Sure hope we don’t try to go up those hills!”

8
A Walk into Peril
    W hat’s the date?”
    Jeff looked over at Tom, who stood in a growth of tall oaks and stared across the open field. “July third,” Jeff replied. “Why you asking?”
    Tom did not answer right away. There was something almost pathetic about the way he looked out across the field. He managed a brief smile. “Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July—Independence Day. Back home they’ll be shooting off firecrackers and rockets, and the bands’ll be playing.”
    “I guess so.” Jeff did not like the way Tom was acting, but he had noticed that almost all the soldiers lined up in the grove of trees along Cemetery Ridge were not their usual selves. “I wish we were there,” he said somewhat nervously. “Back home.”
    Tom seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. He kept looking up at the ridge where the Yankees were entrenched.
    From where they were stationed in the center of the battle line, Jeff could see the whole fishhook-shaped line of Union troops. Right in the middle was a stand of trees, and they could plainly see the enemy moving back and forth, bringing guns into position and throwing up some kind of breastworks out of logs.
    Tom’s face was pale when he turned to Jeff. “I just hope we don’t have to go up that hill,” he said.
    Jeff looked at the open field, then up at the Yankee guns on the crest of the ridge. “Why, even I know better than to cross an open field with the enemy on a hill on top of you!”
    What Jeff did not know was that Gen. Robert E. Lee had been engaged in a debate with Gen. James Longstreet concerning the wisdom of the planned attack.
    For two days, General Lee had sent the Army of Northern Virginia to batter the Union lines. Now he faced General Longstreet, saying, “The enemy was strong on both his flanks, but there has to be a weakness somewhere, and that has to be in the center.”
    Longstreet looked at the open field, then at the thousands of Union soldiers and massed artillery at the top of the ridge, and said with some heat, “General, I’ve been a soldier all my life, and I have to tell you that, in my