Gettysburg: History That Still Breathes
When we first arrived in Gettysburg, I knew it would be emotional. What I did not know was just how much this place would seep into me, one story and one encounter at a time.
I began my journey at the Visitor Center, a natural starting point for any newcomer. From there the paths opened wide—to Little Round Top, where I joined a guided hike and stood where Union soldiers had fought desperately to hold the high ground. Looking out over the rolling fields, it was almost impossible to reconcile the beauty of the landscape with the brutality that once unfolded there.
One of the highlights of our stay was a two-hour bus tour led by a National Park Guide. Her knowledge and passion brought the battlefields to life in a way no book ever could. She wove together troop movements, personal stories, and the geography around us with such clarity that the past felt alive all over again.
Ron and I also shared other memorable experiences together, including watching a re-enactment of cannon fire. The ground shook, the air filled with smoke, and for a moment I could imagine what soldiers must have felt as battle closed in on them. One evening we even attended a Civil War ball. I was taught a few dances by some of the most charming re-enactors, their kindness making the past feel alive in a lighter, almost joyful way, even amidst the weight of history.
Gettysburg offered me not just sweeping battlefields, but also intimate human stories. I toured the Eisenhower Farm and House, learning about the General who later became President, and how he chose this quiet place for respite. At Spangler Farm, I walked with guides who explained its role during the war. Back at our campground, I was gifted something truly special: a one-on-one conversation with a female history interpreter. For an hour and a half she opened a window into civilian life during those three harrowing days. Her words painted a vivid picture of families torn between fear and duty, and how ordinary lives were forever changed.
I also set out on my own with a self-guided walking tour through downtown Gettysburg. Along the way I explored two very different cemeteries. The National Cemetery, where Union soldiers are honored, carries an atmosphere of solemn pride. Nearby, the Evergreen Cemetery holds its own powerful story. There I learned about a woman, six months pregnant, who dug one hundred graves herself while her husband fought in the war. Both husband and wife were of German descent, reflecting a wider truth: many here in Gettysburg and across Pennsylvania were of German Lutheran roots. Hard-working, faithful, and deeply anti-slavery, they threw themselves into the cause of Union and freedom.
As a Lutheran myself, I felt a strange sort of relief, even joy, in learning that Germans were on the “winning side” this time. My silly mind could not help but contrast it with other times in history, when Germany stood on the wrong side and bore a heavy burden. Meanwhile, England, had sympathized with the Confederacy. History always complicates our sense of belonging.
One of the most intense stops was the Lutheran Seminary Museum. Its exhibits pulled me straight into the raw realities of war. Some rooms recreated the grim world of Civil War medicine, complete with graphic scenes of surgeries carried out without the mercy of anesthesia. Another exhibit explored the moral debates of the time: Should a Lutheran take up arms? Should you risk everything to hide a runaway slave? The questions were not just historical—they echoed forward in time. I could just as easily imagine them being asked during the Second World War, when conscience collided with fear and conviction demanded courage.
Walking away, I realized Gettysburg is more than a battlefield preserved in stone and plaque. It is a living classroom that still demands we ask ourselves: What would I have done? Which side would I have stood on?
Perhaps the best way to end is with the words spoken here by President Abraham Lincoln, less than five months after the battle. His brief address has carried through generations, reminding us that sacrifice must always be met with responsibility:
The Gettysburg Address
November 19, 1863
“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
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