“Last I heard,” James, her husband said, “McClellan's Army was marching north toward Pennsylvania to hedge up the rebs from making any inroads. I’ve not heard of any battles or even a skirmish as of late.”

“I’m worried about him, James. It’s not like him not to write.”

“Well an army on the move don’t have much time for much of anything. I remember how it was durin’ the Mexican war. A lot of marching and a little fightin’ from time to time. I’m sure things are alright with him”

“I sure hope you’re right.”

Two more weeks passed and still no word from Franky, Then one day came news of the bloodbath at Gettysburg, Mary’s heart sank. Even James was worried.

More time passed and one day two army officers showed up on the door step. Mary fainted at the sight, knowing the news they bore.

Once revived, the Lieutenant said, “We regret to inform you that your son, Franklin Carter was killed in battle, But you must know he died a hero. His company was wiped out and he alone held off the rebs until reinforcements arrived."