Throughout the night, as I stood sentinel in our Comfort Inn room that overlooked Gettysburg’s Evergreen Cemetery, I watched for wayward spirits roaming aimlessly around the historic burial ground. I saw none, which was okay with me because I’m not quite sure what I would’ve done had a ghost appeared. In all likelihood, I would have stood quietly next to the TV and just wiggled my head.
For some reason my photographer was up ten minutes before his alarm went off. At first I thought he may have been excited to be in Gettysburg; after all, we were smack in the middle of the most famous Civil War battlefield in our nation. But when I heard my photographer mention something to Mongo about Eisenhower’s farm opening at 8:30am, however, Tom’s “crack of dawn” eagerness made more sense. Even though Tom and I had visited Gettysburg in 2020, Ike’s farm was closed to visitors due to the pandemic restrictions. But on Tuesday May 25, 2021, the grounds around our 34th President’s retirement home were open to the public and my companions wanted to be the first ones there.
Due to our earlier-than-expected departure from the hotel, combined with the fact that we didn’t have very far to travel, my companions began our tour of Gettysburg at the site where President Abraham Lincoln delivered his famous speech in 1863. Ten months earlier, it took Tom roughly 20 minutes to find the precise spot where the dedication platform was situated on November 19, 1863 when Lincoln began his address: “Four score and seven years ago…” But on that Tuesday morning, while most tourists in Gettysburg were still in bed or eating their breakfast, my photographer was driving the Rogue on a beeline through Evergreen Cemetery’s main gate to the historic site.
With the help of modern computer science by using photographic evidence taken on the day of Lincoln’s speech, historians had pin-pointed the location of the dedicatory platform within an area of three tombstones located inside Evergreen Cemetery. Tom once again carried me to the spot and carefully placed me in the grass almost in the center of a triangle drawn between the gravestones of John Koch, Israel Yount, and George Kitzmiller. As I stood there, it was as though I could hear Abraham Lincoln deliver his speech. His 272-word address not only kept the large crowd gathered near the platform spellbound; the assembled crowd also remained in dignified silence for several minutes after the President had finished speaking. Abraham Lincoln’s ‘Gettysburg Address’ has been widely considered as the greatest speech in American history and it was a true honor for me to stand on the spot where our 16th President spoke those eternal words. As a matter of fact, when I heard Mongo recite a portion of Lincoln’s speech from memory, I had resin goosebumps all over my body.
We didn’t spend a lot of time in Evergreen Cemetery; perhaps 15 minutes at the most. When Tom placed me back inside the camera case for our three-mile journey out to the farm once owned by President Dwight D. Eisenhower, I had mixed emotions. It was hard for me to leave the hallowed ground where Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg Address. On the other hand, I knew we were headed to a place I had never visited before – a place where Ike had his own Gettysburg address: 1701 Emmitsburg Road.
Once again, my companions amazed me with their impeccable timing. We arrived at the Eisenhower National Historic Site at exactly 8:30am; and as planned, we were the first ones there. Well, there were a handful of NPS rangers who were busy sprucing up the grounds; but when it came to tourists, it was just the three of us. Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower fell in love with Gettysburg and the surrounding area during Ike’s military stint at nearby Camp Colt in 1918. A little over two years before Eisenhower took the Oath of Office as our 34th President, Ike and Mamie purchased a farm that stood in the shadow of Little Round Top; a strategic Union Army high ground during the Battle of Gettysburg. During Ike’s two terms as President, he used his farm as a weekend retreat; and at times, the quaint farmhouse served as a meeting place for World Leaders that included Soviet Union Premier Nikita Khrushchev; French President Charles de Gaulle; and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Ike loved his farm – he said he could feel the “forgotten heroism” from the Battle of Gettysburg there. And it was hard for him to stay away – from the time the farmhouse was renovated in 1955 until the end of his second term in 1961, Ike spent a total of 365 days down on the farm.
Due to the pandemic, the home’s interior was closed to the public; but that was okay in my eyes as there was a lot to see on the property that surrounded Ike’s two-story brick farmhouse. So much so, in fact, that we spent over 90 minutes walking the grounds and taking photos. Tom placed me in several locations where the President once stood; I also posed for a photo next to the flagstick on Ike’s putting green. During my time at the site, I could feel Dwight Eisenhower’s presence. As a matter of fact, there were several moments when I sincerely thought the President would walk around the corner to meet me. Ike had owned the farm for 19 years. There were times he ran the country from Gettysburg; Eisenhower also entertained family, friends, and world leaders there as well. Then there were the quiet times when Ike would simply sit alone in his glass-enclosed porch and reflect on his life and legacy – a legacy that grew on the battlefield in Europe and ended on another battlefield in Gettysburg. It was a true honor for me to see the farmhouse and walk the grounds that President Eisenhower and his wife Mamie had cherished during their golden years.
It seemed extremely special for me to visit the farmhouse where President Dwight Eisenhower lived after he left the White House in January 1961. While I would’ve loved a tour of the home’s interior, I was thankful the grounds had been opened-up to the public only a few weeks earlier. The COVID pandemic has made it difficult, or impossible, for me to visit some Presidential sites in the past year. On the flip side of that coin, however, was the fact the virus has kept the crowds lighter than normal, which was a great compromise – at least in my eyes.
Dwight Eisenhower could see Little Round Top from his front porch – the historic Civil War high-ground was a little over one mile away towards the east. And although I thought I could see it when I stood on Ike’s sundial, my companions and I needed a closer look. It was a few minutes past ten o’clock when the three of us arrived at the parking area near the crest of Little Round Top, which was the smaller of two rocky hills (the other being Big Round Top) located roughly two miles south of Gettysburg. During the second day of fighting in the Battle of Gettysburg on July 2, 1863, Union forces occupied the hill and they thwarted an assault by the Confederate troops who had been ordered to capture the high ground. Some historians have speculated that had Confederate Lt. Gen. Longstreet’s First Corp been successful, the Battle of Gettysburg may have had a different outcome. When Tom carried me along an asphalt pathway up to the peak, I saw numerous monuments that were dedicated to the Union soldiers who had fought there. Once my photographer had placed me alongside a statue of Union General Gouverneur Warren, I had a breathtaking panoramic view of the battlefield below; including the infamous Devil’s Den. As I stood there among the monstrous boulders, I took a moment to think about the soldiers who had died in the skirmish to capture or defend Little Round Top. Over 400 Americans died on that 63-foot tall hill; 134 Union soldiers lost their lives as they defended Little Round Top, while 279 Confederate troops were killed as they tried to overtake it.
Devil’s Den was a rock formation that I saw from my position on Little Round Top and when my companions were finished on the historic hill-top, we made the short drive to lower ground. Once there, Tom carried me to several locations where he set me onto some of the huge boulders that were there during the Battle of Gettysburg. Devil’s Den was a boulder-strewn hill that served as a natural fortress where Confederate sharpshooters positioned themselves while they fired upon the Union troops on Little Round Top. While it seemed as though the ungodly name “Devil’s Den” was given to the rock formation because of the July 1863 slaughter, it was actually named well before the historic battle. According to legend, the crevices between the large boulders played host to a large black rat snake the locals had named “The Devil”. That legendary snake was reported to have been 15 to 20 feet in length and had the thickness of an ordinary man’s waist. At one point, when my photographer was carrying me to the famous “Devil’s Den barricade”, a woman claimed to have spotted a copperhead within the rocks and she let everyone within earshot know about her sighting. When I heard the boisterous woman tell my cameraman about her snake sighting, I laughed to myself because I thought she had imagined it. But when I learned about “The Devil”, along with the fact that Devil’s Den had been home to a handful of snake species for a long time, her story gained some credence – at least in my mind.
Tom and I finally made it to the spot we had been searching for since our arrival at Devil’s Den. That famous area was called the “Devil’s Den barricade” and it was where photographer Alexander Gardner had captured an image of a dead Confederate soldier as he laid near the man-made rock formation. In later years, photographic imagery experts determined the soldier was likely killed roughly 40 yards away and was dragged to the barricade; primarily because it made for a more dramatic photo for Gardner. In my mind, Alexander the Great Photographer was thee snake of Devil’s Den; only he was a “Gardner snake” and not the black rat snake of local legend. Then out of nowhere, it happened – Tom insisted that I replicate the scene where the deceased Georgia soldier had been photographed near the sharpshooter’s nest. I had to admit, when my photographer placed me on my back on the ground in the same spot where that soldier once laid, it “creeped me out”. I could feel his presence; that young man from Georgia was there with me and I became overwhelmed with sadness. That young soldier was someone’s son; he was a brother and a grandson; and he lost his life in battle, likely from artillery fire from the Union position on Little Round Top. During those three days of intense battle, that soldier from Georgia was one of 7,058 Americans from both sides to die fighting for what they believed in.
Devil’s Den had been an eye-opening experience for me, especially when I envisioned Confederate sharpshooters using the large boulders as a sniper’s nest. But when the Union Army’s artillery fire rained down on the Slaughter Pen on July 2, 1863, over 300 Rebel troops were killed. While the large rocks had shielded the Confederates from Union rifle fire, the boulders enhanced the concussion of air from the cannon fire, which caused most of the human carnage. Trees, fields and buildings constantly change, but those large boulders at Devil’s Den have remained the same for the past 158 years. Those huge boulders and rock formations that I stood on and gazed at through my painted resin eyes were the last things on Earth some of those Confederate soldiers saw before they were killed. For me, the devastation of those three days in Gettysburg came to life at Devil’s Den. But then, as I watched a small smattering of unsupervised children laugh, play, jump, and climb on those large boulders, oblivious to what had happened there many years ago, all I could do was shake my head. But it wasn’t the kid’s fault. I put the blame solely on their parents for letting them run amok on sacred ground instead of taking them to an amusement park where they would have more fun and freedom to run.
There were a few other areas of the Gettysburg battlefield that Tom and Bob wanted to visit before we headed into town. Our first site was a field filled with weeds; the wild grasses came up to my waist when my photographer placed me onto the ground. At first, the field seemed insignificant to me; it was just another field of weeds. But that field turned out to be much more than that. On July 2, 1863, the field that I stood in was filled with stalks of golden wheat; stalks that turned blood red in the late afternoon when Confederate troops launched an attack on the Union Army who were positioned there. That’s right; I was standing in the middle of Gettysburg’s ‘Bloody Wheatfield’ where the Rebels made their fiercest attack of the entire battle. As I stood among the waist-high weeds while my camera guy snapped his photos, it was as though I could see dead Union Army troops all around me. That field came to life in my resin mind – I could hear the moaning; the cries of pain and the smell of death.
From the Bloody Wheatfield, we made our way to the famous battlefield where the Battle of Gettysburg was won and lost – the site of Pickett’s Charge. On the third and final day of fighting near Gettysburg, General Robert E. Lee ordered most of his forces to attack U.S. General George Meade’s stronghold on Cemetery Hill. With guns-a-blazing and cannons firing, three Confederate divisions attacked. Major General George Pickett led one of the divisions toward Cemetery Hill where they met head-on with the United States Army; but the hour-long battle turned catastrophic for the Confederacy. When the smoke cleared and the fighting had stopped, over half of the Confederate forces were either killed, wounded, or captured. As a matter of fact, all of Pickett’s officers suffered casualties during the historic charge; but because Pickett had stationed himself well behind the lines, he survived the blood bath. What George had lacked in courage, he made up for in brains!
Before we walked out to the site of Pickett’s Charge, I posed for a few photos on the Virginia Monument that was located where the historic charge began – near the edge of Spangler Woods. That large memorial featured a bronze statue of Robert E. Lee mounted on his horse Traveller; while six bronze figures that represented the Confederate Artillery, Infantry, and Calvary were positioned below Lee. When we were finished at the Memorial, Tom carried me out to the site where Pickett’s Charge began. In the distance, I could see the famous Copse of Trees – the site of the high-water mark of the Confederate attack. As I gazed out at the vast expanse in front of me, I saw trees, fences and small buildings in the distance. I was awestruck – that field in front of me was where the Battle of Gettysburg had been decided on July 3, 1863. When Tom set me down onto the ground of that historic battlefield, my mind was instantly filled with images of Confederate soldiers running towards the Union line for their ultimate battle with destiny.
Just after the clock struck one o’clock in the afternoon, Tom placed me back into the camera case and we drove to our final site on the battlefield – the Pennsylvania State Memorial. The 100-foot-tall monument, which was erected near the Union’s position at Cemetery Ridge, was built to commemorate the 34,530 Pennsylvania soldiers who fought during the Battle of Gettysburg. At one point during our short visit, my photographer carried me to the memorial’s observation deck where I had a great view of the battlefield. As a matter of fact, I could see the Virginia Memorial off in the distance.
The Battle of Gettysburg was the turning point of the Civil War. Had the Confederate Army under Robert E. Lee won that battle, the War Between the States may have had a different outcome; or at the very least, it may have lasted a lot longer. During my three-hour visit to the strategic points in and around the battlefield, it was painful for me to think of all the death and destruction that happened during those three harrowing days in July 1863. And the fact that all of those deaths; and all of the suffering and pain; all happened to Americans on American soil. And the sad thing is, at least for me, if we don’t learn from history – it just might repeat itself.
The three of us headed for town as Mongo wanted to pay a quick visit to the National Cemetery. Since Tom and I had been to that cemetery just ten months earlier, my photographer picked up some dollar burgers from the nearby McDonald’s and we waited for Bob in the Rogue while he toured the burial ground. Once both of my companions had finished their business, Tom navigated our vehicle into the center of town where he found a parking space at Lincoln Square. But just like we had encountered in July of 2020, the David Wills House was still closed to the public due to the COVID pandemic. Although I posed near the exterior of the historic house while Tom snapped a handful of images, it was once again a huge disappointment to find the doors locked – even though the three of us had been fully vaccinated.
David Wills’ three-story brick home was built on the southeast corner of the Gettysburg Town Square in 1816. Wills, a prominent lawyer and local leader, purchased the home in 1859, just before the start of the Civil War. In July 1863, he watched some of the famous Battle of Gettysburg from a third-floor window of his home. When the fighting ceased, his home was transformed into a makeshift hospital where his wife Catherine cared for many of the wounded soldiers. But the Wills House didn’t become famous for being a medical center and that certainly wasn’t the reason for our visit either.
In his first-floor law office, David Wills wrote a letter to President Abraham Lincoln and requested him to give “a few appropriate remarks” at the new cemetery dedication ceremony that the lawyer had spearheaded. On November 18, 1863, the day before the ceremony, Lincoln arrived in Gettysburg and he spent the night in a second-floor bedroom at the Wills House. While in that house, the President put the finishing touches on his speech – a speech that would go down in history as one of our nation’s greatest. The following morning, November 19th, Lincoln and other dignitaries formed a procession outside of the home. The President rode a chestnut-colored horse as the procession, which included David Wills, slowly made its way out to the new cemetery. As I posed near the exterior of the Wills home, I looked up at the second-story bedroom windows where Lincoln had stayed. I wondered how many times the President had looked down from those windows during his time there. Perhaps Lincoln stared at the darkened square throughout the night while he searched for just the right words to add to his speech.
When we were finished at the Wills House, Tom drove two blocks north to the train station where Lincoln had arrived and departed Gettysburg. While Mongo captured his images of the historic train depot, my photographer and I stayed with the vehicle; we had visited the station ten months earlier. A few minutes later, Tom delivered Bob to the front door of the nearby Eisenhower house. Once again, the two of us stayed in the air conditioning of the Rogue while Mongo snapped his photos.
After spending the entire morning and most of the afternoon in Gettysburg, I was exhausted. It was as though I relived the entire three-day battle in my mind – I saw the death and destruction; and I felt the pain and suffering. But on the bright side, I also visited the home where a battle-tested General-turned-President had spent the last years of his life. With historic Gettysburg in the rearview mirror, the three of us began our journey westward across the state of Pennsylvania.
My companions wanted to find a hotel close to Shanksville because the Flight 93 Memorial was the first scheduled site for Wednesday. During the 118-mile drive that took over two hours to complete, Mongo worked his magic and found a reasonable rate for a room at the Fairfield Inn, located just north of downtown Somerset, Pennsylvania. It was roughly 5:30pm when we arrived at the Fairfield; within minutes my companions were registered and they had all of their stuff, including me, lugged to the room. Tom set me alongside the room’s TV set while he and Bob went into town to order Chinese takeout food from Main Moon – a small restaurant located on the main drag in Somerset. When they returned to the hotel, I watched in wonderment as my two friends ate their food. Tom and Bob gobbled their meal so fast they must’ve thought someone was about to snatch the food off their Styrofoam plates. I worried about Mongo; it seemed as though his delicate condition hadn’t improved much in the last day – although that didn’t seem to slow him down one bit, at least during dinner.
Tom extinguished the lights at 10:30pm and once again I stood alone in the darkness. But that night, I didn’t think about what I had experienced in Gettysburg earlier in the day. Instead, the only thoughts that went through my hollow resin head were centered on United Airlines Flight 93 that was intentionally flown into the ground about ten miles from where I stood. Even though I hadn’t yet been molded and assembled in China when the terrorists attacked our country in 2001, I learned a lot about 9/11 when my photographer brought me to the World Trade Center site in 2017.
I knew the Flight 93 Memorial had a Presidential connection for me because every President from George W. Bush to Donald Trump had paid their respects at the crash site since that fateful day. But as strange as it may sound, something told me the memorial would be much more than just another Presidential site. After all, it was where courage, guts, and American patriotism had prevailed over pure evil. It was also where the brave passengers of Flight 93 gave their last full measure of devotion to ultimately save our Capitol from certain destruction. I was anxious to visit the site. I was anxious to pay my personal tribute to the passengers and crew of Flight 93. And like those heroes who died in that field, I couldn’t wait to roll.
