The boy had stumbled and slid down the steep river bank, comming to an abrupt halt against a tree at the rivers edge. He painfully stood up in the dark of the moonless night and rubbed his knee. Nothing broken, he thought to himself. He'd been waiting in the dark watching the far shore of the river, and then he's seen it. A faint flicker of light from a shielded lamp. Then another. They were there, waiting.
The war had been raging on these two years now since South Carolina had tried to secede from the Union, and now in the end of June 1863, there was no quick end in sight. Young Billy Butler lived on a small farm just down river from Whites Ferry, outside Poolsville Maryland. His family were more than sympathic to the southern cause, they activly spied for the south. Billys mother was from Leesburg Virginia just on the other side of the river, and as a native Virginian she was loyal to the south as was her Maryland husband. They watched the main road crossing, and the ferry, taking note of any union troop movements and reporting it at pre-aranged meetings. This night the 16 year old son was carrying the information as the husband had broken an ankle in a accident on the farm. The boy tried to briddle his exitement, as maybe he'd finally get to meet one of the men from Colonel Mosby's raiders.
Yanking off the canvas cover from the small skiff on the river bank, he pushed off into the water. Born and raised on the Potomac river, boats were nothing new to the boy. He rowed quickly accross the river, fishing gear in the bottom of the boat to conceal his true reason for being out there in the night.
The bow of the skiff grounded on the far bank, and helping hands reached out of the dark and pulled the small boat up. Stepping out, the boy was face to face with half a dozen grey uniformed men. Then a familiar face stepped out of the dark.
"How's your pa, Billy" said a confederate sargent.
"Uncle Thomas, good to see you. Pa's still laid up, but getting better. He had something important to send ya, theres been a hell of alot of blue bellies heading north from here. Real brigades of infantry with limbers and artillery. Their heading up past Frederick. " the boy told his uncle and the Lieutenant that had joined them.
"Well, that does indeed sound important" said a small slight man who was standing in the deeper shadows. "Maybe we better have a look at the map inside."
They all stepping into a small run down shack back from the rivers edge in a grove of trees. Inside they lifted the shield on a lamp and a faint yellow light cast a glow over the dim interior of the shack. Only then Billy got a clear look at the small man in a Colonels uniform of the confederate cavalry. With a shock, Billy realized he was face to face with Colonel Mosby himself. He tried to be calm and buisness like. On the map spread on a rickity table he pointed to the road crossings, where they went, and where the union forces had marched off to. At the end of his briefing the Colonel rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin, and looked at his Lieutenant, John Russell of Berryville Virginia.
"I think we better go find Stuart." he said, "If they get too far north they could be serious trouble to General Lee on his march. Lee must be made aware of this movement of troops to his south."
"Yes sir, I'll tell the men to mount up."
"Colonel Mosby sir," Billy said, "Let me join up with you, please. I can ride and shoot real good. Ask Uncle Thomas. Some of the other boys have joined, and I'm near as old as them. Please sir?"
The Colonel stepped over to the boy and took him by both shoulders.
"I'd be honored to have you ride with us, Billy. But the truth is I can't spare you. Theres no shortage of fools waiting to be shot off a horse, but good intellegence is too damm hard to come by. The job you and your Pa are doing is too important for me to let you go from. The best army in the world is like a blind fool swinging wild if they don't know where the enemy is. We need eyes, need them bad. I need you watching the cross roads and that ferry for me. Let me know whats going on. I know you won't let me down."
The boy blushed, then swelled with pride at the Colonels compliments.
"No sir, I won't let you down! Not a single blue bellie will get by without me seeing sir!"
The boy was led back to his skiff, and helping hands shoved him off. They watched him till he got to the far bank.
"Think he believed you, Colonel?" asked Sargent Butler.
"I hope so. There'll be enough young boys getting killed in this damm war. Besides, it wasn't all a complete lie."
Inside the shack the colonel and his Lieutenant confered over the map again.
"Where do you think General Lee is by now sir?" asked Russell.
Mosby's finger traced a line.
"He crossed over the river three days ago. That would put him about here, by this crossroad. Looks like a small town there. Little town called Gettysburg. Probably some small farm community. Lets ride, John."
The map was rolled up into its waxed leather tube, and the men moved out. All who rode with Mosby were hand picked by him as quiet steady men. This night they departed the grove with no more than a occasional creak of saddle leather or rattle of a briddle. A few moments after they left the crickets were chirping, and an owl hooted nearby. The man known as the Grey Ghost had vanished into the night, and the clearing was Like he had never been there.
It was June 30th, 1863.
The war had been raging on these two years now since South Carolina had tried to secede from the Union, and now in the end of June 1863, there was no quick end in sight. Young Billy Butler lived on a small farm just down river from Whites Ferry, outside Poolsville Maryland. His family were more than sympathic to the southern cause, they activly spied for the south. Billys mother was from Leesburg Virginia just on the other side of the river, and as a native Virginian she was loyal to the south as was her Maryland husband. They watched the main road crossing, and the ferry, taking note of any union troop movements and reporting it at pre-aranged meetings. This night the 16 year old son was carrying the information as the husband had broken an ankle in a accident on the farm. The boy tried to briddle his exitement, as maybe he'd finally get to meet one of the men from Colonel Mosby's raiders.
Yanking off the canvas cover from the small skiff on the river bank, he pushed off into the water. Born and raised on the Potomac river, boats were nothing new to the boy. He rowed quickly accross the river, fishing gear in the bottom of the boat to conceal his true reason for being out there in the night.
The bow of the skiff grounded on the far bank, and helping hands reached out of the dark and pulled the small boat up. Stepping out, the boy was face to face with half a dozen grey uniformed men. Then a familiar face stepped out of the dark.
"How's your pa, Billy" said a confederate sargent.
"Uncle Thomas, good to see you. Pa's still laid up, but getting better. He had something important to send ya, theres been a hell of alot of blue bellies heading north from here. Real brigades of infantry with limbers and artillery. Their heading up past Frederick. " the boy told his uncle and the Lieutenant that had joined them.
"Well, that does indeed sound important" said a small slight man who was standing in the deeper shadows. "Maybe we better have a look at the map inside."
They all stepping into a small run down shack back from the rivers edge in a grove of trees. Inside they lifted the shield on a lamp and a faint yellow light cast a glow over the dim interior of the shack. Only then Billy got a clear look at the small man in a Colonels uniform of the confederate cavalry. With a shock, Billy realized he was face to face with Colonel Mosby himself. He tried to be calm and buisness like. On the map spread on a rickity table he pointed to the road crossings, where they went, and where the union forces had marched off to. At the end of his briefing the Colonel rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin, and looked at his Lieutenant, John Russell of Berryville Virginia.
"I think we better go find Stuart." he said, "If they get too far north they could be serious trouble to General Lee on his march. Lee must be made aware of this movement of troops to his south."
"Yes sir, I'll tell the men to mount up."
"Colonel Mosby sir," Billy said, "Let me join up with you, please. I can ride and shoot real good. Ask Uncle Thomas. Some of the other boys have joined, and I'm near as old as them. Please sir?"
The Colonel stepped over to the boy and took him by both shoulders.
"I'd be honored to have you ride with us, Billy. But the truth is I can't spare you. Theres no shortage of fools waiting to be shot off a horse, but good intellegence is too damm hard to come by. The job you and your Pa are doing is too important for me to let you go from. The best army in the world is like a blind fool swinging wild if they don't know where the enemy is. We need eyes, need them bad. I need you watching the cross roads and that ferry for me. Let me know whats going on. I know you won't let me down."
The boy blushed, then swelled with pride at the Colonels compliments.
"No sir, I won't let you down! Not a single blue bellie will get by without me seeing sir!"
The boy was led back to his skiff, and helping hands shoved him off. They watched him till he got to the far bank.
"Think he believed you, Colonel?" asked Sargent Butler.
"I hope so. There'll be enough young boys getting killed in this damm war. Besides, it wasn't all a complete lie."
Inside the shack the colonel and his Lieutenant confered over the map again.
"Where do you think General Lee is by now sir?" asked Russell.
Mosby's finger traced a line.
"He crossed over the river three days ago. That would put him about here, by this crossroad. Looks like a small town there. Little town called Gettysburg. Probably some small farm community. Lets ride, John."
The map was rolled up into its waxed leather tube, and the men moved out. All who rode with Mosby were hand picked by him as quiet steady men. This night they departed the grove with no more than a occasional creak of saddle leather or rattle of a briddle. A few moments after they left the crickets were chirping, and an owl hooted nearby. The man known as the Grey Ghost had vanished into the night, and the clearing was Like he had never been there.
It was June 30th, 1863.
