With the 141st Pennsylvania Infantry
Army of the Potomac
Washington, D.C.
June, 1863
“Finally,” the troops thought when the orders came to prepare for a move. Exactly where they would be going no one seemed to know for sure, but Thomas and his friends felt excited at the possibility of action of any kind after these weeks and months of little else but guard duty. As usual news of happenings elsewhere was slow in reaching the rank and file but word of the Confederate General Lee’s incursions into Pennsylvania and Maryland had brought the camps to attention. Threats to the cities of Philadelphia and Baltimore were too close to home for many of the members of the Army of the Potomac. They were eager to engage the enemy and put an end to this long-drawn out stalemate. All this about the abolishing of slavery and the upcoming presidential election was just so much talk if all they did was sit and wait.
One morning late in June found the 141st Pennsylvania Infantry on the march northward after yet another change of command. The newly appointed General Meade whose reputation was unknown to most of the officers and men, was considered untried which created a certain uneasiness within the officer corps and the lower ranks as well.
Corporal Hickok and Private Kunkle slung their bed rolls, rations, weapons and ammunition supply on their shoulders and stepped out onto the dusty road with anticipation. The weather was unseasonably hot and humid for the Pennsylvania mountain boys but having been in the Capitol area for so long they had grown accustomed to it. The large numbers of troops accompanied by cavalry units, artillery and the assortment of necessary items needed for sustenance and survival brought droves of civilians from their homes and places of work to just stand and watch as the well-fed and well-supplied Federal forces swung by. With flags flying and bands playing they made a splendid sight.
The battle was joined by chance on June 30 near the little town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania with what appeared to be a minor skirmish. But on July 1 both armies were engaged fully. Before it ended on July 3, 40,000 men lay dead, wounded or reported missing. Thomas and Wesley had been separated during the fight and as the guns ceased and night fell, Thomas hunted in vain for his friend. Exhausted, he accepted what food and drink was available as the survivors huddled around their meager campfires, but kept searching until he learned that Wes had been wounded the day before and carried off to the hospital tent area. There he learned that many of the wounded, Wesley among them, had been transported to the Jarvis Hospital in Baltimore. This at least was good news. Wes would get better treatment there than here he reasoned. His thoughts went to Rebecca and the Kunkle family. All he could do was pray.
A letter from Rebecca reached him in September letting him know that she had managed to get herself to Baltimore not too long after the news of Wesley’s wounds had reached the family. With her parent’s consent she had taken a room in a boarding house close by the hospital and been allowed to visit him daily and help tend to his needs. Despite her efforts, he could not be saved. She wanted Thomas to know that Wes had asked for him near the end and died smiling at some childhood memory of them all up to some mischief or other. She wrote that she felt it her sad duty to let Thomas know that her brother had succumbed to his wounds and died on August 8.
She would have liked to visit Thomas at the camp but it was not to be. She was needed at home. Thomas crumbled the letter in his grief-stricken hand as if to throw it from him then sank down on his bunk, smoothed it out carefully and placed it in his breast pocket. A light had gone out in his world and nothing would be the same.