A Union orderly sounded the alarm. “It’s theRebs. They’re on this side of the Roundtops. They’re coming acrossthe fields. If they get to Taneytown Road, we’ll be in danger!”
It didn’t appear that way to her. Ifanything, they seemed to be attempting to scale Little Roundtop.Her brain told her to run to the house, but fear paralyzed her bodyas a crazy sense of déjà vu washed over her.
Shouts and bugles calling a charge came fromthe south side of the house. How did the Rebs get so close?
Tillie spun, expecting to see gray backs,guns raised, ready to kill them all. Instead, blue-coated men inranks of four ran across the barnyard. A young boy in the firstrow, no older than sixteen or seventeen, held the battle flag andscreamed, “First Pennsylvania!” The men roared and charged.
The First Pennsylvania? James! Tillie droppedthe bucket, ignoring the wounded men’s pleas. Raising her skirts,she hopped over men in her haste to find a place to observe as theyran by. She cleared the clot of men on the ground and stopped atthe corner of the house.
The men of the First Pennsylvania Reserveadvanced on the Rebels at Little Roundtop. Her heart skipped a beatas she scanned their faces. She didn’t see James, but the menpassed in front of her so fast, she couldn’t be sure.
She cupped her hands around her mouth andhollered as loud as possible. “James Shaw Pierce!” A man turned hishead in her direction. James? A flash of recognition hit her, buthe didn’t look like her brother. He seemed shorter and thinner thanshe remembered. Still, she knew him, but his identity remainedelusive. Dismayed, she stared at their backs as they ran past atthe double-quick.
As the men approached the lines, theConfederates fired on the Pennsylvania boys. A few fell, butundaunted they charged at the enemy. As the blue uniforms advanced,the gray retreated.
She tucked herself close to the corner of thehouse to observe the fight. Rebel soldiers tried to climb a stonefence near Little Roundtop, only to discover more Union soldiershiding behind it. The Boys in Blue rose and fired at point-blankrange, cutting the Rebs down. Tillie’s body jerked as though theirbullets struck her. Those able retreated between the two mountainsand disappeared from sight.
* * * *
As twilight approached, more soldiers arrivedat the hospital with devastating wounds. Across the road, the newConfederate wounded lay in the fields and orchards further from thehouse.
Tillie nursed the men and tried to close herears to their screams and pleas. After witnessing the devastatingfight, she couldn’t muster animosity. She decided to nurse them allas what they were: shattered men in desperate need of care.
She worked in the burned-out field across theroad, giving water to the Confederate wounded and wiping theirdirty, sweaty faces, wishing she could do more. As full darknessapproached, the doctor who put her in charge of water came out tospeak to her. “You need to go back inside the house now, miss.” Hetook the dirty rag and bucket from her hand.
“But these men still need help.”
“And they’ll get it. You must go back inside.It’s far too dark out here to see what you’re doing.”
“Then get me a lantern. For I’m determined tocarry on my task here.”
The doctor shook his head. “Can’t do that,miss. I’m sorry.” He let his eyes roam over the black hulk ofLittle Roundtop, backlit by fading daylight. Then he leveled thosetired eyes on her. “Please, miss. I bet their guns are trained onus right now. The only thing keeping you alive is your skirts. Inthe complete dark all they’d see is a light, and they’d shoot.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
“He’s right, Miss Tillie,” the rebel soldiershe had been helping when the doctor arrived spoke up.
“Go back in the house, Miss Tillie,” othersimplored. “Come back tomorrow.”
“All right.” She glanced around at the boys.“I’ll go inside. Good night, boys. I’ll come back in the morning.”She scanned the men lying in the burned-out wheat field. How manywould survive the night? She smiled at them as she pushed thethought away and returned to the house amid a chorus of good nightsand God bless yous.
* * * *
Orderlies cut bread, spread butter and jam onthe slices, and set them on plates, which Tillie took andserved.
As she served the bread, her eye caught ayoung man in the back corner of the basement near a small storageroom. He sat with his back against the wall, his legs spread out infront of him, crossed at the ankles. A wounded man lay with hishead in the young man’s lap, and the young man stroked hiscompanion’s forehead in an absent-minded manner.
She walked over, carrying the empty plate.She knelt. “Would you like some water?”
The soldier licked his lips as the man lyingin his lap groaned. He glanced down at his companion and strokedhis hair. The young man raised eyes so full of anguish, she had togo to him.
“What do you need?” She touched him on thearm.
“Well, first, may I have some bread? I’m veryhungry.”
“Certainly.” Tillie rose and approached thetable. She grabbed two pieces of bread, spread butter and jam onthem, and returned, offering him the plate so the crumbs wouldn’tdrop on his companion’s face. He thanked her and ate the bread withslow deliberate motions, though he said he was hungry. She sat nextto him and waited, her gaze drifting to the young man lying in hislap.
Dark-brown hair swept back off his face. Hisbeard did nothing to hide the ashen appearance of a dying man. Ahole in his coat near the shoulder left a bloody stain. The bulletthat entered his shoulder and exited in a gaping wound at the baseof his neck mangled one of the stars on his lapel. Tillie reachedover and pulled away the bandage at his neck. She swallowed hardand recovered the wound.
When his companion finished eating, he passedher the plate. She set the dish by her foot. At each grunt or groanof pain, the captain stroked his forehead. “Would you do
