Are There Ghosts in Gettysburg?

The air had a snap to it and the trees were shedding their brilliantly colored leaves in sudden, miniature flurries. The overcast sky promised a dampening of the day at some point when we entered the Gettysburg Military Park, where 51,000 men and boys lost their lives over a three day period in 1863. Monuments were in abundance and we stopped our car repeatedly to get out and peruse the area we were currently in.

The sun in the overcast sky helped set the mood.

Ghost stories aside, the mere knowledge of the grisly deaths that happened on the ground under our feet left us stricken. It’s written that he skirmish at The Wheatfield left the ground so thick with bodies of the dead and dying, that one couldn’t put one’s foot down without stepping on someone. Soldiers laid in the hot sun for days in excruciating pain, suffering fever and chills, while waiting for help to arrive.

It didn’t take long to feel it; it was nearly palpable.  Standing by the first field, the knowledge of the pain, suffering and death that took place there was overwhelming. The grass was beginning to turn its mid-autumn brown, and I felt it difficult to breathe when I thought of how it was once brown with the dried blood of fallen soldiers. My throat tightened as tears welled up in my eyes. I knew I couldn’t speak, lest the tears actually begin to flow. Waves of chills overtook me, repeatedly.  Looking to Kevin, I could see that I wasn’t alone with these sensations. The feeling of desolation was all encompassing; the knowledge of forlorn.

We moved through the various stops on our self-guided auto tour, discussing the emotional and eerily unexplainable experiences we both felt at each stop. The stop at the Eternal Flame Peace Monument had an unexpected twist for us. Not considered to be one of the most haunted sites, the crystal spinning non-stop from my rearview mirror spoke of energies that couldn’t be seen.

Devil’s Den, where many people experience difficulties with videos and photography, proved to not afford us with the same difficulties. Thankfully, the creek that ran red with blood from the skirmish at Little Round Top ran with nothing but water. But, once we left, Kevin admitted to me that as we scaled the top of the rocky crest, he was hit with an excruciating pain in his left elbow that only dissipated when we left the area. It made us both wonder about the man who once stood there and must have taken a shot to his elbow.

Looking down into Devil's Den from Little Round Top.

Little Round Top, as seen from Devil's Den.

The creek in Devil's Den that ran red with blood.

I, myself, experienced a very odd and strong sensation, off and on. I smelled what I first thought was the ocean; later I just thought of it as salt water. Kevin never experienced this, leaving me alone to ponder what it meant. Perhaps a regiment from a state that bordered the ocean had fought there.

Perhaps it was sweat and tears.