Having passed through Gettysburg on June 28th, General John B. Gordon,
of Lee’s army, went on to York and Wrightsville before returning on July
1st. In his “Reminiscences of the Gettysburg Campaign” he tells the
following story:
“We entered the city of York on Sunday morning. Halting on the main
street, where the sidewalks were densely packed, I rode a few rods in
advance of my troops, in order to speak to the people from my horse. As
I checked him and turned my full dust-begrimed face upon a bevy of
ladies very near me, a cry of alarm came from their midst; but after a
few words of assurance from me, quiet and apparent confidence were
restored. I assured these ladies that the troops behind me, though
ill-clad and travel-stained, were good men and brave; that beneath their
rough exteriors were hearts as loyal to women as ever beat in the
breasts of honorable men; that their own experience and the experience
of their mothers, wives, and sisters at home had taught them how painful
must be the sight of a hostile army in their town; that under the orders
of the Confederate commander-in-chief both private property and
non-combatants were safe; that the spirit of vengeance and of rapine had
no place in the bosoms of these dust-covered but knightly men; and I
closed by pledging to York the head of any soldier under my command who
destroyed private property, disturbed the repose of a single home, or
insulted a woman.
“As we moved along the street after this episode, a little girl,
probably twelve years of age, ran up to my horse and handed me a large
bouquet of flowers in the center of which was a note in delicate
handwriting, purporting to give the numbers and describe the position of
the Union forces of Wrightsville, toward which I was advancing. I
carefully read and reread this strange note. It bore no signature and
contained no assurance of sympathy for the Southern cause, but it was so
terse and explicit in its terms as to compel my confidence. The second
day we were in front of Wrightsville, and from the high ridge on which
this note suggested that I halt and examine the position of the Union
troops, I eagerly scanned the prospect with my field-glasses, in order
to verify the truth of the mysterious communication or detect its
misrepresentations.
“There, in full view of us, was the town, just as described, nestling on
the banks of the Susquehanna. There was the blue line of soldiers
guarding the approach, drawn up, as indicated, along an intervening
ridge and across the pike. There was the long bridge spanning the
Susquehanna and connecting the town with Columbia on the other bank.
Most important of all, there was the deep gorge or ravine running off to
the right and extending around the left bank of the Federal line and to
the river below the bridge. Not an inaccurate detail in that note could
be discovered. I did not hesitate, therefore, to adopt its suggestion of
moving down the gorge in order to throw my command on the flank, or
possibly in the rear of the Union troops, and force them to a rapid
retreat or surrender. The result of this movement vindicated the
strategic wisdom of my unknown and—judging by the handwriting—woman
correspondent, whose note was none the less martial because embedded in
roses, and whose evident genius for war, had occasion offered, might
have made her a captain equal to Catherine.”