July 10, 1863, Gettysburg, PA 

Dear Mother. 

I have served in a battle as a drummer for the first time in my time in the military. This was the bloody battle of Gettysburg. The Battle of Gettysburg commenced on July first and ended on July third. I performed in battle with 9 other drummers and 10 fifers on the third and final day of the battle. I had made friends with 3 of the drummers, who were named Johnny, Nicholas, and Samuel. We were in a small town near Gettysburg and we were told that we would march to Gettysburg in as little as two days. As you know, I was excited to play my part in helping the Union stay together. However, despite my excitement, I still had some fear that something would happen at the battle. I knew that as a drummer, we were not supposed to fight but I still had the fear that you would try to lessen in your sweetest of letters. However, I was right to have fear due to what occured at the battle.

We woke up at 4:00 A.M and quickly I took a revolver that I hid under my mattress and stuck it in my boot. 30 minutes later, we joined at least 200 troops and started drumming a slow beat when we started marching toward the battle. Some of the soldiers marching close to me, spoke to each other about how they can’t wait for when they defeat the Confederates. I wondered if their confidence was a mask? When we walked through the forest and started walking up the next hill, I heard loud bangs and yelling. The commander shouted at the musicians to start signaling to the soldiers marching with us that they would soon charge down the hill when we got to the top. We would start drumming faster. When we reached the top of the hill, the soldiers started to charge down the hill but before any of them made it to the bottom of the hill, four shots from down below hit four of our soldiers. They fell hard on the hill and stopped moving. The rest of the soldiers disappeared into the smoke. The drummers and I started marching down the hill. My fear increased when I saw what was going on below. I saw stabbing, punching, shooting and explosions all at once with smoke in every direction. I saw grown men screaming for their mothers. The only thing that made me still beat the drum, was the sense of safety in being a drummer. When we reached the bottom of the hill, one of the fifers was hit by a stray bullet in the head while behind a large fallen tree. The boy playing a drum next to him tried to help him but I already knew that there was nothing to be done. Johnny screamed that he would leave his position and run back to our camp. I had told him that it was too late to do an idea as outrageous as that. He nodded and silently wept. Nicholas started to run and disappeared into the smoke. 

God Bless Us All,

Timothy