It was four o’clock in the morning when the alarm bells started ringing. I knew my Master, Thomas Galway, would be in the stable soon. We had camped in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania for three days with still no sign of the Confederate’s gray uniforms. I never had a good night’s rest, for the camp went to sleep by eight o’clock and was usually disturbed with false alarms. But tonight was different. Men, carrying lamps, started to stream into the barn, unlatching stall doors and putting the tack on their horses. When Thomas Galway came to me, I nuzzled him when he walked through my stall door.
“Come now, Thunder,” he said, when he slipped the bridle over my head and fastened the saddle underneath me. “We have a long journey ahead of us.” He patted my nose lovingly.
When I was ready, he led me out of my stall and mounted me. He whispered in my ear, “Thunder, our scouts have brought back news that Confederates have been seen in the North. We now have to send men out to different posts. We have to lead my regiment to the hill in the West. Run, now. Run.”
With those last words, I sped off down the stable path and through the campgrounds while Thomas shouted to his men, “Ride. Ride with me to the West Hill. Ride Galway’s regiment.”
As my Master shouted his commands, I pondered on what he had said to me. Were the Confederates planning an attack, or were they lining up for battle? When we reached the road, I spotted one of our spies riding hard on the road ahead. We halted and waited for him to ride up. When he arrived, he said breathlessly, “Confederates have been seen marching toward Gettysburg with black cannons and arms up to two-thousand or more. Ride hard and hurry, Sergeant.”
Galway turned to one of his men, riding beside him. “Give this messenger some water and take him back to camp for we must ride in haste before the sun has risen.”
Then we started again at a good pace. Soon the other horses and I grew weary and began to slow down. “Only a few more miles,” said Galway.
Toward the end of our journey, we finally made it to the hill at about five- thirty in the morning. We had been galloping for at least three hours. When Galway dismounted me, I felt chilled to the bone but was sweating at the same time
Galway then put on me the blanket that was in my saddle and let me drink from the pond that was nearby. I felt very much refreshed when he was finished combing me, and I nuzzled him with gratitude.
After fifteen minutes, the sun had risen and was just starting to warm the cold morning ground. A few men had fallen asleep nearby their horses, and some men were on guard; but all men, asleep or awake, felt the tense anxiety of war.
At the time of nine o’clock, the sun had warmed the trees and the ground with its hot rays of summer, while the confederates came marching through the field to lay siege upon the hill where we stood. This was a great advantage for us, for now we could overlook them and see their number while they could only see the front ranks of our army. Their army was greater still and could overtake us with some effort, but we having the advantage of view, did not have to look up at our enemies and could shoot down with good eyesight of the men. It was a terrible position for the confederates.
At this time, General Lee was holding conference in the tent below while we waited tense and ready to fire.
When the sun was high in the sky, the men were eating their lunch while they thought that the captains were still in meeting with Lee. But they were mistaken entirely.
The confederates started to fire upon us, and we fired back. For a while, this kept up. It lasted for an hour or so until the firing departed and we saw men creeping up the hill to our encampment. The men had been creeping while the firing kept up, but now it ceased, and we saw them. We then started to fire upon them and watched legs blown off, arms being shot and men laying in agony on the field. This was the sorrow of war.
My master mounted me and led close to 100 men in a charge down the hill. Bullets flew by me, close enough that I could feel the air they made. Cannons rumbled. Men groaned upon the field. All felt the grievous feel of war. Some bullets found mark. Others fell helplessly to the ground. Those that did hit mark were the pain of men .
While all this horror was passing me, a bullet, aimed well by its shooter, hit my master’s leg. Galway winced as it hit. He loosed his grip on my bridle. I surely thought he was to fall off my saddle, but he held his place just barely. He rode me still in battle and led his commands, while he slowly lost his strength. He rode for more than an hour until he laid his head upon my neck and hardly breathed. “He has lost too much blood,” I thought. I walked slowly from the battlefield making sure that I did not let him slip from the saddle.
When I arrived at the hospital tents, men walked up to me and examined Galway, saying, “Is this not the sergeant Thomas Galway that led the charge?”
“Verily,” said the other “This is he.”
Then they dismounted Galway and took him to a nearby tent. A boy came to me and brought me to the stables, watered me, gave me a blanket, and said soothingly, “Now, do not have a worried care. Your master will recover soon,” and he left me to rest until the new day.