ds。 There was universal rejoicing in that holiday season； rejoicing and thankfulness that the tide was turning。 The army in butternut were now seasoned fighters； their generals had proven their mettle； and everyone knew that when the campaign reopened in the spring； the Yankees would be crushed for good and all。
Spring came and the fighting recommenced。 May came and the Confederacy won another great victory at Chancellorsville。 The South roared with elation。
Closer at home； a Union cavalry dash into Georgia had been turned into a Confederate triumph。 Folks were still laughing and slapping each other on the back and saying： “Yes； sir！ When old Nathan Bedford Forrest gets after them； they better git！” Late in April； Colonel Straight and eighteen hundred Yankee cavalry had made a surprise raid into Georgia； aiming at Rome； only a little more than sixty miles north of Atlanta。 They had ambitious plans to cut the vitally important railroad between Atlanta and Tennessee and then swing southward into Atlanta to destroy the factories and the war supplies concentrated there in that key city of the Confederacy。
It was a bold stroke and it would have cost the South dearly； except for Forrest。 With only one…third as many men—but what men and what riders！—he had started after them； engaged them before they even reached Rome； harassed them day and night and finally captured the entire force！
The news reached Atlanta almost simultaneously with the news of the victory at Chancellorsville； and the town fairly rocked with exultation and with laughter。 Chancellorsville might be a more important victory but the capture of Streight’s raiders made the Yankees positively ridiculous。
“No； sir； they’d better not fool with old Forrest；” Atlanta said gleefully as the story was told over and over。
The tide of the Confederacy’s fortune was running strong and full now； sweeping the people jubilantly along on its flood。 True； the Yankees under Grant had been besieging Vicksburg since the middle of May。 True； the South had suffered a sickening loss when Stonewall Jackson had been fatally wounded at Chancellorsville。 True； Georgia had lost one of her bravest and most brilliant sons when General T。 R。 R。 Cobb had been killed at Fredericksburg。 But the Yankees just couldn’t stand any more defeats like Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville。 They’d have to give in； and then this cruel war would be over。
The first days of July came and with them the rumor； later confirmed by dispatches； that Lee was marching into Pennsylvania。 Lee in the enemy’s territory！ Lee forcing battle！ This was the last fight of the war！
Atlanta was wild with excitement； pleasure and a hot thirst for vengeance。 Now the Yankees would know what it meant to have the war carried into their own country。 Now they’d know what it meant to have fertile fields stripped； horses and cattle stolen； houses burned； old men and boys dragged off to prison and women and children turned out to starve。
Everyone knew what the Yankees had done in Missouri； Kentucky； Tennessee and Virginia。 Even small children could recite with hate and fear the horrors the Yankees had inflicted upon the conquered territory。 Already Atlanta was full of refugees from east Tennessee； and the town had heard firsthand stories from them of what suffering they had gone through。 In that section； the Confederate sympathizers were in the minority and the hand of war fell heavily upon them； as it did on all the border states； neighbor informing against neighbor and brother killing brother。 These refugees cried out to see Pennsylvania one solid sheet of flame； and even the gentlest of old ladies wore expressions of grim pleasure。
But when the news trickled back that Lee had issued orders that no private property in Pennsylvania should be touched； that looting would be punished by death and that the army would pay for every article it requisitioned—then it needed all the reverence the General had earned to save his popularity。 Not turn the men loose in the rich storehouses of that prosperous state？ What was General Lee thinking of？ And our boys so hungry and needing shoes and clothes and horses！
A hasty note from Darcy Meade to the doctor； the only first…hand information Atlanta received during those first days of July； was passed from hand to hand； with mounting indignation。
“Pa； could you manage to get me a pair of boots？ I’ve been barefooted for two weeks now and I don’t see any prospects of getting another pair。 If I didn’t have such big feet I could get them off dead Yankees like the other boys； but I’ve never yet found a Yankee whose feet were near as big as mine。 If you can get me some； don’t mail them。 Somebody would steal them on the way and I wouldn’t blame them。 Put Phil on the train and send him up with them。 I’ll write you soon； where we’ll be。 Right now I don’t know； except that we’re marching north。 We’re in Maryland now and everybody says we’re going on into Pennsylvania。 …
“Pa； I thought that we’d give the Yanks a taste of their own medicine but the General says No； and personally I don’t care to get shot just for the pleasure of burning some Yank’s house。 Pa； today we marched through the grandest cornfields you ever saw。 We don’t have corn like this down home。 Well； I must admit we did a bit of private looting in that corn； for we were all pretty hungry and what the General don’t know won’t hurt him。 But that green corn didn’t do us a bit of good。 All the boys have got dysentery anyway； and that corn made it worse。 It’s easier to walk with a leg wound than with dysentery。 Pa； do try to manage some boots for me。 I’m a captain now and a captain ought to have boots； even if be hasn’t got a new uniform or epaulets。”
But the army was in Pennsylvania—that was all that mattered。 One more victory and the war would be over； and then Darcy Meade could have all the boots he wanted； and the boys would come marching home and everybody would be happy again。 Mrs。 Meade’s eyes grew wet as she pictured her soldier son home at last； home to stay。
On the third of July； a sudden silence fell on the wires from the north； a silence that lasted till midday of the fourth when fragmentary and garbled reports began to trickle into headquarters in Atlanta。 There had been hard fighting in Pennsylvania； near a little town named Gettysburg； a great battle with all Lee’s army massed。 The news was uncertain； slow in coming； for the battle had been fought in the enemy’s territory and the reports came first through Maryland； were relayed to Richmond and then to Atlanta。
Suspense grew and the beginnings of dread slowly crawled over the town。 Nothing was so bad as not knowing what was happening。 Families with sons at the front prayed fervently that their boys were not in Pennsylvania； but those who knew their relatives were in the same regiment with Darcy Meade clamped their teeth and said it was an honor for them to be in the big fight that would lick the Yankees for good and all。
In Aunt Pitty’s house； the three women looked into one another’s eyes with fear they could not conceal。 Ashley was in Darcy’s regiment。
On the fifth came evil tidings； not from the North but from the West。 Vicksburg had fallen； fallen after a long and bitter siege； and practically all the Mississippi River； from St。 Louis to New Orleans was in the hands of the Yankees。 The Confederacy had been cut in two。 At any other time； the news of this disaster would have brought fear and lamentation to Atlanta。 But now they could give little thought to Vicksburg。 They were thinking of Lee in Pennsylvania； forcing battle。 Vicksburg’s loss would be no catastrophe if Lee won in the East。 There lay Philadelphia； New York； Washington。 Their capture would paralyze the North and more than cancel off the defeat on the Mississippi。
The hours dragged by and the black shadow of calamity brooded over the town； obscuring the hot sun until people looked up startled into the sky as if incredulous that it was clear and blue instead of murky and heavy with scudding clouds。 Everywhere； women gathered in knots； huddled in groups on front porches； on sidewalks； even in the middle of the streets； telling each other that no news is good news； trying to comfort each other； trying to present a brave appearance。 But hideous rumors that Lee was killed； the battle lost； and enormous casualty lists coming in； fled up and down the quiet streets like darting bats。 Though they tried not to believe； whole neighborhoods； swayed by panic； rushed to town； to the newspapers； to headquarters； pleading for news； any news； even bad news。
Crowds formed at the depot； hoping for news from incoming trains； at the telegraph office； in front of the harried headquarters； before the locked doors of the newspapers。 They were oddly still crowds； crowds that quietly grew larger and larger。 There was no talking。 Occasionally an old man’s treble voice begged for news； and instead of inciting the crowd to babbling it only intensified the hush as they heard the oft…repeated： “Nothing on the wires yet from the North except that there’s been fighting。” The fringe of women on foot and in carriages grew greater and greater； and the heat of the close…packed bodies and dust rising from restless feet were suffocating。 The women did not speak； but their pale set faces pleaded with a mute eloquence that was louder than wailing。
There was hardly a house in town that had not sent away a son； a brother； a father； a lover； a husband； to this battle。 They all waited to hear the news that death had come to their homes。 They expected death。 They did not expect defeat。 That thought they dismissed。 Their men might be dying； even now； on the sun…parched grass of the Pennsylvania hills。 Even now the Southern ranks might be falling like grain before a hailstorm； but the Cause for which they fought could never fall。 They might be dying in thousands but； like the fruit of the dragon’s teeth； thousands of fresh men in gray and butternut with the Rebel yell on their lips would spring up from the earth to take their places。 Where these men would come from； no one knew。 They only knew； as surely as they knew there was a just and jealous God in Heaven； that Lee was miraculous