Vignette: a brief incident or scene as in a play or a book…
This is a short, romanticized version of the story of John Wesley Culp, Jack Skelly and Ginnie Wade. Though they are historical figures and there are many facts and also many legends surrounding their lives, the thread of this story sprang from my own imagination. What we do know is that at the battle of Winchester, Jack Skelly, a wounded Union Soldier, wrote a letter to his betrothed, Ginnie Wade, who lived in Gettysburg. He gave the letter to their childhood friend, Wesley Culp, who was fighting for the South, and asked him to deliver it to Ginnie. The contents of the letter and what happened to it are subject to much speculation and so I have joined in. My part in that speculation created an imaginary diary written by Ginnie Wade that I have used to tie this story together. As far as I know, the diary never existed except on these pages. It is my hope that my theories concerning this event will, as you read A Gettysburg Vignette, be at least entertaining and hopefully thought-provoking. Enjoy!
Patrick E. Craig
Part One
The Letter – 1863
June 15
I have spent this day with the terrible feeling I will never see Jack again. It has haunted me all my waking hours. The commonplace doings of life in Gettysburg have faded into the fabric of this fear that clutches at my heart. It is my understanding that our boys are in Virginia somewhere fighting Robert E. Lee. I have, up to this point, not feared for Jack, as I know him to be a good and capable soldier who is dedicated to the Union cause. But this morning, when I awoke, there was a certainty that something terrible has happened or is about to happen to my beloved, and I cannot free myself from it. I pray that this dread is my own imagination, and not some divine instillation from above. Oh, Jack, may the sheltering hand of Providence be with you.
Diary of Ginnie Wade
Chapter One
Winchester
June 12, 1863
The sun was a caldron in an otherwise empty sky. The blazing heat beat down on the dusty road. The soldiers in gray were slowly moving into columns. It was the middle of June and Richard Ewell’s Second Corps was headed toward Winchester. All of the top commanders –Rodes, Ewell, Early, Johnson, and the old man himself, Robert E. Lee – had met together the night before, and now the Army of Northern Virginia was on the move again. Wesley Culp stuffed the last of his things into his pack, tied it up, and left the field where his Company was bivouacked. All around him the Rebel Army was moving onto the road that led north up the Shenandoah Valley. They had been moving north for days and they were tired, but the men of this Army didn’t care. They had been beating the pants off the Federals for months and they were in high spirits. Now the rumors were flying. Wesley’s tent-mate, Jed Culpeper smiled as he fell into step beside Wes.
“We’re headed to Pennsylvania for sure, Wes. Lee is going to take this war to old Abe and we’re going to end it once and for all.”
Wesley, felt a sharp pang of regret at the words. Pennsylvania was his home state and most of his family was fighting for the North. Jed kept on.
“Ain’t yer brother fighting for the Yanks?”
“When the war broke out, my brother, William and my cousin, David, joined Company F, 87th Pennsylvania. My best friend, Jack Skelly, joined up with them.”
“How come you didn’t go back to Pennsylvania and fight with them?” Jed asked.
“When I moved to Virginia, I was only fifteen. I made new friends and when they all joined the local militia, the Hamtramck Guards, I joined too. At first it was just a social club, but when the war started, we all joined up. I thought the fight would be over in a couple of weeks, but I was wrong.”
Jed looked over at Wes.
“The word is that the 87th is up at Winchester.”
Wesley shook his head.
“Well, Jed, I sure don’t want to run up agin’ Willie and David in Winchester. It would be a shame to have to shoot at ‘em.”
“Well, if you do see ‘em in battle, you’ll shoot, won’t you Wes?”
“I reckon I’ll have to, Jed.”
Wesley got a look on his face that said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Jed shut up. The two men marched along in silence. All around them the grey army moved inexorably like a flood – pouring out of the South in what they hoped would be the campaign that would force the Federals to take their hands off and leave them alone.
The 2nd Virginia had just come from some of the worst fighting of the war at Chancellorsville where they had crushed Hooker’s army and pushed it north. Now the Southern troops were invading the North, forcing the Army of the Potomac to leave Washington D.C. and confront them. Everyone knew that a big fight was coming and the Army of Northern Virginia was ready.
Jed pulled a chunk of chaw out of his pocket, offered some to Wes, and when Wes shook his head no, bit off a big piece. In a few minutes he looked like a cow chewing its cud. He spit and then started talking again.
“I hear that Billy Yank has re-built those forts up there at Winchester. Old Milroy’s gonna have his Bluebellies hunkered down up on them hills just waiting for us with some artillery.”
Wesley grinned.
“What are you worried for, Jed? You sound like an old woman. Those Yanks will break and run just like they always do. Besides, we got to get in there and rescue those folks from that butcher.”
Wesley reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper.
“Listen to this. The Yanks were passing these out and some of our boys got a hold of them.”
He read out loud.
In this city (Winchester) of about 6,000 inhabitants … my will is absolute law – none dare contradict or dispute my slightest word or wish. The secesh here have heard many terrible stories about me before I came and supposed me to be a perfect Nero for cruelty and blood, and many of them both male and female tremble when they come into my presence to ask for small privileges, but the favors I grant them are slight and few for I confess I feel a strong disposition to play the tyrant among these traitors.
— Robert H. Milroy
“I tell you, Jed, we got to go up there and drive that devil out.”
Jed looked at his friend.
“Well, I reckon that’s what we’ll do, then, Wes.”
The two marched on in silence.
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