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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.

It was about midnight. Surely there would not be a reenactment in the early morning hours. It dawned on me what I was hearing when my friend in the next tent asked ''are they holding a re-enactment in the middle of the night?'' I replied, ''No, I think that's the 1863 battle. '' Both families came out of their tents. My friend's two kids and his wife were standing and listening. So was my wife. The sound was superbly clear. And it was, without any doubt, the sound of human voices, and a long drum roll. Some of the party thought they heard the snapping and popping of musketry, a sound we had come to know very well that weekend. I did not hear the muskets, but I heard the neighing and screaming of horses.

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