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Submitted by J

       Categories: sky, bathroom, spirits, family

In 1996 my old friend from high school (class of 1980) and I went to Gettysburg for a four day visit in late July. We stayed at the old Howard Johnsons just north of where Pickets Charge took place. On our last night we treated ourselves to a nice steak dinner and afterwards decided to watch the sun go down from Little Round Top. My friend wasn't feeling very well, so he stayed in my SUV while I trekked up the hill from the parking area. After taking in the magnificent sunset in the South Mountains, two young couples came up near me to enjoy the view also.

Evidently this was their first visit, and they talked about getting a tour of the battlefield the next day. Being that I've been there eight or nine times and have read hundreds of books on the battle, I gave them a brief overview of what happened on the ground before us on the second day of the battle. By this time the sunlight had almost completely disappeared. Down below us in the Valley of Death we could faintly hear the cadence of a drum. It would stop and start up again, every time getting louder and closer. One of the young ladies was getting really spooked and implored her friends to leave. Three of them left, but one of the boys stayed with me for another minute to see if it would start up again, and sure enough it did. However, this time it sounded as it was only a couple of hundred feet away. We both left for our respective vehicles.
I recanted my experience to my friend, but he explained it as just my overactive imagination. As we descended Little Round and headed west towards the Wheatfield, we started to cross over a low bridge that traversed Plum Run. I was driving extremely slow, and as we came onto the bridge right in front of us we saw seven figures in ragged dress with rifles marching. There was a young boy with a drum tapping out the cadence I heard earlier from the top of Little Round Top. My friend couldn't believe his eyes. I rolled down my window and said ''Hey guys. What's up?'' My friend didn't like the looks of this and started pleading with me to drive away fast.

I couldn't help myself being of a curious nature; I asked them again ''what's happening?'' They stopped at a command of ''company halt. '' I went to get out of my Jimmy, but my friend pulled me back in. He wouldn't let go of my arm, but after a few tries I broke free of his grip. When I turned around to my astonishment they had disappeared. I backed the vehicle up and swung to the right and put my high beams on into the field. Nothing. I swung to the left. Nothing. At that point all my bravery had suddenly left my body. I punched the accelerator and high tailed it out of there with the hair standing up in the back of my neck. My friend has recently passed away, but whenever we talked on the phone we always recounted this experience.
Submitted by Rich

       Categories: tapping, eyes, drum, battle, alley

We were two families in Gettysburg, tenting at Artillery Ridge Campground. That weekend we toured the battlefield extensively, attended a giant reenactment, and rode on horseback over the field of Pickett's Charge. That Sunday marked the end of the re-enactor events. The roads out of Gettysburg were jammed with cars, campers, horse trailers, and even a heavy-duty flatbed truck-trailer rig with four ''Napoleon'' cannons chained to the top. By 8 o'clock the town was deserted. Our two families, tenting under a large shade tree were virtually the only guests still at the campground. We hit the sleeping bags early. I dozed off at around 10 pm. It was around midnight when I awoke to the sound of a great multitude cheering. It sounded as if a sports stadium was located right nearby, with a full crowd cheering constantly. There was the sound of a drum roll too, no rhythm, just drums rolling endlessly.

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