On June 26, 1863 ten-year-old Charles McCurdy ran as fast as he could down to the end of his street. A crowd of older men and young boys like himself had already gathered there, watching the view before them on Seminary Ridge. The marching of the Southern army into lower Chambersburg Street, and the accompanying sounds of the firing of pistols, were too much for any young boy. “I waited only for the front line to come into view,” he recalled, “making record time for home…and stationing myself on the front porch, watched the spectacular entry.” He later compared what he described as “a leisurely and gentle entry” by the Confederates into his home town, “as if it were a wild west show.”1
Charles’ neighbor on Chambersburg Street, 30-year old Sarah Broadhead, watched from her front door. “The effect was enough to frighten us to death,” she wrote in her diary.2
Several days later, on Wednesday, July 1, 1863, the civilians of Gettysburg would endure the first of three days of more fright – as the Battle of Gettysburg began in earnest. The only sounds that could be heard were the booming of cannon fire and the noise of screaming men and horses. By afternoon wounded men filled the fields west of town and soon came pouring into the streets for shelter and aid. Seventeen-year-old Jennie McCreary went to a neighbor’s home to help with the wounded. “I went over to Weaver’s to help them roll bandages. The house was soon filled with groaning soldiers, and eventually I overcame my sick, queasy feeling and could look at wounds, bathe them, bind them without feeling sick and nervous. Tears came only once when the first soldier came to the house. He’d walked from the field almost exhausted, threw himself into a chair, looked up at us girls and said, ‘Oh, girls. I have as good a home as you. If I were only there.’ And then he fainted.”3
Having difficulty returning home because of the continuing battle and chaos in the town that day, Jennie saw even more horrors. “A good many of our soldiers were killed in the street. I saw two dead ones lying in McCurdy’s alley when I crossed the street to go home. Four of our men were carrying a wounded soldier on a stretcher down the street when a [cannon]ball came along and took the legs off the two front men. There were some Rebels killed too.”4
Four row homes on Chambersburg Street were named Warren’s Row. Jacob and Elizabeth Gilbert occupied one of the homes on this row. During the battle they, along with the Broadhead family, had stayed in the cellar of their neighbor, David Troxel. In the evening they returned home. “I remember a Confederate officer who rode down Chambersburg Street,” Elizabeth wrote, “and inquired as to the nature of the building in which we lived. He was informed that these were private houses. He assured us we’d be safe in our homes, that our belongings would not be disturbed, while if we left, the houses might be ransacked. He advised us to go into the cellar during the fighting.” Taking his advice, the inhabitants of Warren’s Row on Chambersburg Street remained.5
Sarah Broadhead wrote that night in her diary, “As I write all is quiet, but O! How I dread tomorrow!”6
Gunfire woke civilian Mary McAllister early in the morning on July 2. She had slept all night in a chair next to her open bedroom window, keeping a watch on what was occurring outside her home on Chambersburg Street. A guard from the Christ Lutheran Church across the street was posted on the family’s doorstep – easing her fears a little. Miss McAllister was an exception for those who decided to stay in Gettysburg. Most of the civilians remaining had remained in their cellars for the night.
Sarah Broadhead also heard the gunfire. “It seemed as though heaven and earth were being rolled together,” she wrote. Having occupied the cellar of their neighbor, Mr. Troxel, along with about 22 others, a shell struck the house, “but mercifully did not burst,” she explained. It “remained embedded in the wall, one half protruding.” Another shell hit the house and exploded upstairs, but no one spoke of it, in order to keep calm beneath the chaos.7
Mary McAllister braved the outdoors on the second day of battle, while sharpshooters and firing artillery threatened any movement with sudden death. She went out in search of liquor to be given to the Federal wounded, who were being cared for in her home. She found her way safely to Buehler’s Drug Store, and Mr. Buehler agreed to fill a canteen for her. As he did so, “a shell burst through the front door.” It also did not explode and Mr. Buehler told her to leave quickly and to make sure that the Confederates on the street did not notice her canteen. Miraculously, Mary made it back home, and the soldiers were grateful to her for the coveted whiskey.8
By July 2, the excitement of the battle had worn off for 10-year-old Charles McCurdy. He had heard enough cannons and gunfire, and had seen more than enough death and fighting. What he had seen, he was trying desperately to put out of his mind. “I remember very little about the events of this day,” he wrote, “for there was the same dreadful monotony of sound and awful sights of suffering…The church yard was strewn with arms and legs that had been amputated and thrown out of the windows, and all around were wounded men for whom no place had yet been found.”9
As the grisly work continued at the church, across the street the McAllister house was full of work too, caring for the many wounded and cooking for both Union wounded and Confederate troops. Mary undertook the baking of bread that day, a welcome respite from the sight of wounds.
At 4 a.m. on July 3, just before dawn, the loudest and most severe firing filled the entire town. The Confederates launched an attack on Culp’s Hill that morning. Sarah Broadhead remembered, “The time that we sat in the cellar seemed long, listening to the terrific sound of the strife; more terrible never greeted human ears. We knew that with every explosion and the scream of each shell, human beings were being hurried, through excruciating pain, into another world, and that many more were torn, and mangled, and lying in a torment worse…if it was God’s will, I would rather be taken away than to remain to see the misery that would follow.” Sarah was also concerned about the outcome of the day. “We knew that the Rebels were putting forth all their might, and it was a dreadful thought that they might succeed.”10
Jennie McCreary did not hear the guns at dawn. She remembered that “the third day of the battle was comparatively quiet, until about three in the afternoon, and then the cannonading began and such a cannonading no one ever heard. Nothing can be compared to it. No one who has never [sic] heard it can form any idea of how terrible it is.”11
Charles McCurdy recalled July 3 in nearly the same way. “On the morning of the third,” he wrote, “there was a repetition of the experiences of the two preceding days. Soon after one in the afternoon, however, the most terrific cannonading that we had heard began. As soon as it slackened we came up from the cellar, and Father took me with him to the third floor of our house from which one could look from a dormer window towards the scene of the firing, a mile or more away.12
Pickett’s Charge had begun.
As the day’s fighting wore on, some Gettysburg civilians noticed a change in demeanor of the Confederate soldiers in the town. Sarah Broadhead remembered, “Some think the Rebels have been defeated as there has been no boasting…and they look uneasy.”13
Mary McAllister was encouraged by the wounded Federal soldiers in her house. “We know our cannons,” they told her. “We know our men, and those cannons, and we are getting the better of them. Don’t be scared, for we believe they are whipped.”14
Late that afternoon, several civilians heard exultant cheers from the Union soldiers in the field, and a desolating silence from the Confederates in town. “A dense volume of smoke hid everything from view,” wrote Charles McCurdy, “but we could plainly hear through this screen the Rebel yell and the answering Union cheer. Weird and inspiring sounds. Soon everything became still, and although we did not know it, the battle had ended with a victory for the Union army.”15
As the word spread that the battle was indeed over, people came out of their cellars and homes, and began to greet each other in the streets. In time, Union soldiers began to appear, bringing assurance and relief to the exhausted and beleaguered townspeople. Mary McAllister remembered, “The first thing we knew, a Union band began to play and I think I never knew anything sweeter, and I never felt so glad in my life.”16
It took months to return to even the smallest sense of normalcy for Gettysburg’s civilians. The battle at Gettysburg changed the town forever, and equally changed the lives of those who endured the three days of darkness and terror, prevailing alongside both armies.
Sources: Broadhead, Sarah. “Diary of a Lady.” Gettysburg, PA. Unpublished manuscript, Adams County Historical Society (hereafter ACHS). Mary McAllister Civilian Account, Philadelphia Enquirere, July 1974. ACHS. “Girl Saw Streets Filled With Dead and Wounded at Gettysburg.” Jennie McCreary Account. Philadelphia Enquirer, July 2, 1938, ACHS. “Gettysburg: A Memoir.” Charles M. McCurdy Civilian Account. Pittsburgh, PA: 1929. ACHS. Bennett, Gerald R. Days of Uncertainty and Dread: The Ordeal Endured by the Citizens of Gettysburg. Littlestown, PA 1994. Slade, Jim and John Alexander. Firestorm at Gettysburg. Civilian Voices, June-November 1863. Schiffer Publishing Ltd., 1998.
End Notes:
1. Bennett, p. 11.
2. Ibid.
3. Slade & Alexander, p. 65.
4. Jennie McCreary Account, ACHS.
5. Charles McCurdy Account, p. 20.
6. Broadhead, p. 14.
7. Ibid., p. 16.
8. McCurdy, p. 22.
9. Slade & Alexander, p. 98.
10. Ibid., p. 120.
11. Jennie McCreary Account, ACHS.
12. Charles McCurdy, p. 22.
13. Bennett, p. 66.
14. Slade & Alexander, p. 123.
15. Charles McCurdy, p. 23.
16. Bennett, p. 69.
Enrica D’Alessandro is a New Jersey native and graduate of Rutgers University. She is a frequent visitor to Gettysburg and is particularly interested in the Gettysburg civilians’ plight during the famous battle here in 1863.
