238 NortH Caroiina Troops, 1861-65.

The march into and through Pennsylvania was delightful,
at least until the time when the corps left Carlisle. The
country was magnificent and full of all needed supplies, ex-
cept certain articles which our soldiers especially needed,
such as hats, shoes, etc. These articles had been shipped
away or concealed so that we did not find them. The writer
was Military Governor of Carlisle for nearly two days and
the only thing that he got for governing and taking care of the
city during that time was one glass of beer. When the corps
left Carlisle the battalion had orders to wait until all the
other Confederates were out of the city and then bring up the
rear. We left just before daybreak and as we were on the
point of marching, several hundred Federal prisoners were
turned over to us by our cavalry. The prisoners were Penn-
sylvania militia that had been called out to repel our inva-
sion. What to do with them was the question. I had no
idea of being incumbered with such a large lot of inoffensive
people. The late Colonel D. M. Carter, then a member of
the military court of Ewell’s Corps, who was with me, con-
cluded that the best thing to do was to parole them and let
them go home. After some trouble we got them into a long
line, single file, and requiring every man to hold up his right
hand, administered to them, en masse an oath that they would
not take up any arms against the Confederacy again until
they had been regularly exchanged. They evidently took
the oath willingly. The streets of Carlisle were macada-
mized and consequently were full of small pebbles and stones.
The moon was shining brightly and I observed that the pris-
oners moved about very gingerly, but did not know the cause
until happening to look down I saw that the last one of them
was barefooted. The scene was extremely ludicrous. The
battalion had nothing to do with the matter. The prisoners
were just as we received them. Possibly they exchanged
their shoes for tobacco, as was sometimes done down in Vir-
ginia, or possibly their captors may have taken their shoes
from them as a punishment for sending out of our reach all
the shoes that should have been in the stores. From Carlisle
we marched in the direction of Gettysburg and when near
that place the battalion was ordered by General Ewell, to

First Barrarion, 239

Cashtown, a small village some three miles from Gettysburg.
to guard his train and protect it from Federal cavalry. Next
day the train was moved to the right and to a point immedi-
ately in the rear of Longstreet’s Corps. On the morning of
3 July, hearing that there was Federal cavalry a short dis-
tance in our rear, Colonel D. M. Carter and the writer rode
back a mile or two to reconnoiter. We found that the ecav-
alry had been in the vicinity, but were gone. Returning, and
Just as we reached the top of a high hill and about a mls and
a half in rear of our army, the artillery fire of that day
opened. In a few minutes a large number of guns were at
work. It was reported that about 140 guns on each side were
firing at the same time. The scene was grand as well as ter-
rible and was far beyond anything that I had witnessed be-
fore, though I was at Malvern Hill and most of the other great
battles in Virginia. We sat on our horses for some time and
witnessed the terrible conflict. Afterwards, when the in-
fantry got to work, we went up into the immediate rear of
the fight, where the wounded were being collected. It had

then begun to rain and for most of the wounded there was no
shelter.

THE RETREAT FROM GETTYSBURG.

Next morning, 4 July, General Ewell ordered the battalion
to escort his train back to Williamsport, on the Potomac, and
sent a company of Alabamians, commanded by a Lieutenant
and containing about thirty men, to reinforce it. The Ala-
bamians were placed in front, and the battalion brought up
the rear. The train contained more than a hundred wagons
and ambulances, and when strung out on the road extended
over several miles. Our route, after passing through a valley
for several miles, led up a mountain side by a narrow rough
road to the Gettysburg and Hagerstown turnpike. Soon
after we started an exceedingly heavy rain fell which ren-

dered travel slow and difficult.

At the junction of our road with the pike a considerable
force of our cavalry had been previously stationed, ‘as an at-
tack on that point by the enemy’s cavalry was apprehended.
During the afternoon we occasionally heard a few shots on