KINDRED SPIRITS
by John I. Lamb in Fate magazine
"I never believed in ghosts... until I visited Gettysburg," said the grizzled Union soldier, his voice subdued but full of conviction. We sat before a flickering campfire watching sparks spiral lazily skyward into the darkness. Around us, 25,000 mock Civil War troops were bedding down, preparing for sleep. It was July 1998, the 135th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, and we had assembled less than two miles from that famous battlefield to re-create the three days of savage combat. As a ghost researcher and Civil War reenactor, I found this a remarkable opportunity both to participate in the grand event and to collect dozens of fresh accounts of spectral sightings from one of America's most haunted towns.
The reenactor continued his story: "Last year I came to Gettysburg to walk the battlefield in uniform. It was always my dream to do that. So I left my family in the motel and set out before dawn because I wanted to avoid the crowds. By the time I got to MacPherson's Ridge, the sky was getting lighter, but I was alone. I was walking along near the railroad cut when I saw him." I knew the place described by the witness. It was about a mile west of Gettysburg along U.S. Route 30. This was where the battle began, as Yankee cavalry and infantry attempted to stop the advance of a much larger Confederate force. By the time three days had passed, the ferocious fighting had claimed 53,000 dead, wounded, and missing, and Gettysburg had become a vast charnel house.
There was a long silence, but I was patient. As I had discovered, many reenactors were initially reluctant to speak of their unearthly experiences, so it did no good to try to hurry a story. I lit my clay pipe and waited. His eyes peering into the fire, the reenactor finally murmured, "I don't know where he came from. He was just there... a Union soldier. I'd guess he was about 25 years old, a skinny guy wearing a forage cap. He didn't have a rifle and he just stood there looking at me. He looked so damn real, I thought he was another reenactor, so I raised my hand to say hello. No sooner did I do that than he disappeared." The bewhiskered reenactor fixed me with a defiant gaze as if to dare me to deny the reality of the episode. He spoke again: "He didn't run away or drop to the ground. He simply vanished. At first I was surprised, then I got scared because I wondered what else I might see out there. I ended up going back to the motel."
Is Gettysburg the most haunted place in America? The town and battlefield have a long history of ghost sightings and poltergeist phenomena. Indeed there are so many reports it is only natural to suspect rampant witness suggestibility and outright fraud. But it is possible there is another reason Gettysburg produces such a prodigious number of paranormal events. Richard Senate and other noted ghost researchers theorize that the living can play a pivotal role in energizing a haunted site. Senate christened this process "restimulation" and suggested that when historical episodes are re-created on or near a spectral landmark, they sometimes provide a venue for paranormal activity. In particular, Senate believes that Civil War reenactors may prime the spectral pump of a battlefield.
Members of that martial hobby invest large amounts of time and money to re-create the lives of the soldiers from the 1860s. Reenactors wear woolen uniforms, carry authentic rifles, and live in crude canvas "dog-tents." They eat salt pork and hardtack, sing sentimental tunes from the era, and stage dramatic mock fights, sometimes involving thousands of combatants. A visit to a Civil War reenactment is like stepping backward in time. Therefore, if there is even a kernel of fact to Senate's intriguing hypothesis, it isn't surprising that reenactors so often encounter the restless phantoms of Gettysburg.
An excellent example of this theory is provided by the experiences of Stanley and Ruth Bukowski of northern Illinois. Although born in "Yankeedom," Stanley is a proud member of a local Confederate regiment, and Ruth portrays a civilian. In 1992, the couple and several thousand other reenactors assembled on the battlefield to appear in Ronald Maxwell's splendid film Gettysburg. During preparations for filming the climactic scene, Pickett's Charge, Stanley Bukowski and others had a mysterious auditory encounter with an invisible army. Stanley recalled the episode: "It was about 8:30 in the morning and there were thousands of us in line, waiting to advance across the field. We were all pretty excited because we were standing on the precise spot where the Confederates advanced toward the Union lines. Then the assistant director asked us to give a rebel yell, which we did. But a few seconds later, I heard another collective rebel yell from the woods behind us. I turned around and saw that there was no one in the woods, but the sounds continued."
Perhaps there was a natural explanation, I suggested. Could the chorus of voices merely have been an echo? "Not likely," countered Stan. "We were facing Cemetery Ridge when we shouted, and the cheer we later heard came from behind us. An echo doesn't behave that way. Besides, this was a huge open field with nothing for our voices to bounce off.”
Is it possible that the gathering of several thousand reenactors on the battlefield activated a place memory of the famous Pickett's Charge? On July 3, 1863, 15,000 soldiers marched across that field and into history in a spectacular and unsuccessful attack on the Union lines. Or could it be that the spirits of those brave troops who died in the battle shouted to signify their approval of the efforts of the hobbyists?
Ruth Bukowski, too, had a ghostly encounter in Gettysburg. During the filming the reenactors lived in an authentic camp, in an area likely occupied by a Confederate field hospital during the battle. Sleeping in a tent isn't always the most comfortable of experiences, but Ruth is a seasoned campaigner and ordinarily slumbers peacefully. Yet one night, at about 2:00 A.M., she was inexplicably awakened.
"Something caused me to wake up," she said. "I sat up and saw the distinct shadows of soldiers by lantern light as they passed my tent. You could even see the silhouette of their hats and muskets on the tent canvas. But what was really strange was that they were marching with fixed bayonets!" Could it have been reenactors performing nighttime picket duty, I asked? "That's what I thought at first, but I later learned the reenactors weren't posting guards at night," she replied. "When I looked out the tent flap, they suddenly were gone and it was completely dark."
The following morning Ruth casually mentioned the episode to another woman who confirmed that she too had seen the spectral figures passing her tent. After two more nocturnal visits from the spectral squad, Ruth became convinced that the silhouettes were the spirits of Confederate soldiers watching over the women in the camp. "Like true Southern gentlemen, they were protecting the ladies," said Ruth with a chuckle.
Ghosts abound at Gettysburg, but research seems to indicate one region in particular is infested with revenant spirits. This is in a southern part of the battlefield near Devil's Den, the Wheatfield, and Little Round Top. During the second day of fighting, this area became hell on Earth as the Yankees and Rebels fought each other with inhuman fury. Echoes of that fighting seem to persist to this day. John Rushoe is a Union reenactor and resident of central Pennsylvania. Early one evening in October 1996, Rushoe and a party of family and friends visited Gettysburg and decided to go on a playful expedition in search of ghosts. They didn't expect to encounter any specters, but in this the amateur ghost hunters were mistaken.
The group's destination was the grotesque playground of boulders known as Devil's Den. While walking eastward near a stream called Plum Run, Rushoe and others in the party heard the distinctive sound of drums and fifes approaching through the dark woods. The tune was somewhat familiar and certainly from the Civil War but neither Rushoe nor his friends could remember its name. At first, Rushoe thought that someone was playing a practical joke or perhaps a reenactment musical group was practicing in the gloom. But this seemed improbable, for he had seen no one in his journey from the nearly empty parking lot.
"I tell you, a chill went down my spine as that music continued to move toward us," recalled Rushoe. "But there was nobody there. The music seemed to be coming right out of the air. Then, when the drums and fifes got to about Plum Run, the music stopped abruptly." Rushoe later wondered if he and his friends hadn't experienced an auditory echo of the fighting. On the second day of battle, Confederate troops had swept eastward across the Emmitsburg Road and through the boulder-strewn Devil's Den. The fighting had been so savage and casualties so heavy that Plum Run turned red with human gore and became known among the combatants as Bloody Run.
Stunned by the spectral music, Rushoe and the group nonetheless decided to continue their expedition to the nearby hill called Little Round Top. However, as Rushoe walked along the pathway leading along the slope of the promontory, he was in for yet another shock. In the darkness, Rushoe saw a gray luminescent mist possessing a vaguely human form. The vaporous figure was gliding among the trees toward the hill's stony summit. Rushoe gasped and pointed to the apparition, but no one else in the party could see it. "It wasn't ground fog, I can tell you that," Rushoe declared. "The shape was over five feet tall and about a foot wide and had sort of a human shape. I'd never seen a ghost before, but I knew I was looking at one now. I watched it for about a minute or so and then it vanished."
Rushoe believes the apparition might have been the revenant spirit of a Union soldier from the 20th Maine, a regiment that courageously defended the hill. But considering the phantom's movement toward the hill, the spirit was just as likely of Confederate origin, perhaps a former member of one of the regiments from Alabama that attacked Little Round Top. Regardless, John Rushoe is firmly convinced that specters abide on the Gettysburg battlefield.
If an individual reenactor could restimulate a haunted site, I wondered what effect 25,000 uniformed hobbyists would have on the ethereal environment. The answer wasn't long in coming. On the third day of the event, stories began to circulate that several reenac tors had been awakened the night before by the marching tread of many troops. I spoke with one of the witnesses whom I shall refer to as Mike since he requested anonymity.
"I was asleep in my tent when I suddenly woke up to the sound of a lot of troops marching past. It's a real distinctive sound: footsteps and tin cups clanking," said Mike, who is a member of a Federal infantry company from the Midwest. "It was real late, about 2:00 A.M. I'd guess, and I wondered who would be stupid enough to march troops around in the dark. So I got up to take a look."
The puzzled hobbyist searched for the origin of the sound, but no troop formations were visible. Indeed, the camp was dark and all appeared normal. Yet Mike had no doubt that he had heard a spectral regiment pass in the darkness. Later, the reenactor learned that others, too, had heard the mysterious noise. It is difficult to identify the specific source of the invisible marchers, but it is known that a portion of General James Longstreet's Confederate force was encamped near the modern reenactment site. Therefore, it is possible the hobbyists were fortunate enough to experience a 135-year-old auditory echo of troops marching to or from their camps.
Mike doesn't consider himself so fortunate. Said he: "It was spooky as hell hearing those guys march past and I'll be happy if it never happens again."
On the final day of the battle reenactment, the spectacular Pickett's Charge was staged. In excess of 12,000 rebel troops emerged from the woods in perfect parade order, their rifle barrels glittering in the sun. Into the maelstrom of cannon and rifle fire the formation marched, and before 15 minutes passed, their course was littered with countless mock corpses. The scene was surreal, and I struggled to appreciate how so many men could have died in such a brutally short time. It was then that I realized the valiant spirits of the dead, both Union and Confederate, are far closer than we can ever imagine.
Some of the ghosts might be unaware of their violent passing, and a few may be trapped in their own private hells, but I'd like to believe the majority of specters remain as a phantasmagoric honor guard for this sacred place. Whatever the reason for their spectral occupation of Gettysburg, I can only salute the restless warriors and pray they finally rest in peace.
