Return to Brandy Station

RETURN TO BRANDY STATION

With their preparations complete, the brothers surveyed the room one last time. The realization, of what they were really going to do this, was heavy upon their shoulders. But despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, they knew they were ready.

"Are you ready for this, Robbie?" Matt asked, his voice tinged with excitement and apprehension.

              Robbie nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "I've been waiting for this moment my whole life, Matt. To witness history firsthand, to explore the unknown—it's what we’re meant to do."

"Let's do it," Matt said, his voice steady with determination. ‘

Picking up their back packs, they walked out to the barn. Together, they approached the time sphere, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

“Open,” said Matt. And with a shared glance, they stepped inside.

He programed the machine for 6:00 AM, June 8, 1863, to be set down outside the field where the Grand Review took place before the Battle Brandy Station in the Civil War.

The computer screen on the dashboard lit up and data started scrolling past.

“Here we go,” said Matt as he engaged the Time Sphere.

And then, just as before, they were gone, hurtling back through time to a moment that shaped the course of U.S. history.

To their amazement, the time sphere was standing on the edge of a vast open field. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the boys could see groups of soldiers on horseback or milling around on the ground, their uniforms a blur of gray.

"We did it, Robbie! We’re actually here.”

Robbie's eyes darted around, nervously, his excitement tempered by the realization of their precarious situation. "Yeah, but now what? How do we blend in? We don't exactly look like we belong here."

Matt furrowed his brow, considering their options. "Thanks to your research before we left, we’re wearing our Button fly Levis with suspenders and our paddock boots, so we don’t look completely out of place.”

              “We'll have to be careful and stick together. Let's try to find a safe place to observe without drawing attention to ourselves."

Nodding in agreement, the boys set off around the edges of the field, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. As they moved closer to the action, the sounds of soldiers getting ready for the spectacle grew louder.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind them, causing them to freeze in their tracks. "Halt! Who goes there?"

Turning slowly, Matt and Robbie found themselves face to face with a group of Confederate soldiers, their rifles leveled at the intruders.

Caught off guard, the boys exchanged a panicked glance, their hearts pounding in their chests. This was not how they had imagined their first encounter with history would be.

“We live in town,” spoke Matt, with more confidence than he felt, “and we came out here to watch the Review. We thought we’d just look around before the parade starts.”

“Yea,” added Robbie. “Everything is so interesting.”

“Are you sure you boys is from town? You sure does talk funny.”

“We’ve only lived here for about six months,” added Matt. “Our mother moved us down here to get away from Baltimore. There was just too much tension there, it being so close to Washington. Our father is in the infantry with General Pemberton’s troops.”

“Well, OK boys. But spectators need to stay on that hill over yonder, in front of that there Mansion. And if you boys is lucky, you jest might spot General Robert E. Lee, his self. He is why we is doing this here second review.

The boys headed off to where the soldier pointed breathing a sigh of relief that their story was accepted.

When they were out of earshot, Robbie whispered, “That was close. Where did you come up with that story about us coming down from Baltimore?”

“I knew we had to come from somewhere where some people spoke with a less Southern accent. I picked Baltimore, because Maryland was a slave state, and being a large city, I just hoped these soldiers would believe we could be from Baltimore with this accent. It worked for now. We’ll just have to be more careful from here on out.”

With the sun rising in the eastern sky, the boys made their way up Fleetwood Hill. The air was full of excitement and anticipation. Every detail was attended to with the utmost care, for this day was not merely about military display; it was a solemn tribute to the indomitable spirit of the Confederate cause and the unyielding leadership of General Lee.

Over 10,000 Cavalry, composed of units from Virginia, North and South Carolina, and the rest of the South, formed long lines of horses and riders, waiting anxiously off to the East, for as far as the eye could see. The horses stomping their hooves and nickering, as if to say, “Let’s get this get this spectacular started.” 

As the clock struck the appointed hour, a hush fell over the assembled crowd as Colonel Stuart, resplendent in his dress uniform, mounted his horse and rode to the head of the procession. With a nod from General Lee, the signal was given, and the cavalry sprang into motion, their horses' hooves thundering against the earth in perfect unison. 

As each regiment passed in review with military precision, amid the cheers, individual voices could be heard. “That’s your pa’s regiment, Billy,” or “My husband is riding with that unit,” or “I can see your James,” and many more proud comments. 

The rhythmic clatter of sabers against stirrups provided a martial accompaniment to the spectacle, punctuated by the occasional blast of a bugle or the thunderous boom of cannon fire in salute. 

Amidst the pomp and ceremony, Colonel Stuart's meticulous planning shone through. Every aspect of the review had been carefully choreographed to showcase the prowess and discipline of the Confederate cavalry. From the precision drills, executed flawlessly, to the thunderous cavalry charges that echoed across the field, each maneuver spoke volumes of the skill and dedication of the men who rode under Stuart's command. 

But beyond the martial display, there was an unmistakable sense of pride and defiance that infused the proceedings. For these men were not merely soldiers; they were the standard-bearers of a cause for which they had pledged their lives, and today, they rode in honor of the man who embodied that cause—General Robert E. Lee. 

As the last regiment thundered past, all those present, in a final thunderous salute, sent a wave of applause through the crowd. The General rose from his seat, his weathered face suffused with emotion, and raised his hand in acknowledgment of the tribute paid to him and to the cause for which they were fighting so valiantly.

"We should go," Mat\t said reluctantly, tearing his gaze away from the now-empty field, and we have to be careful. We can't risk getting caught at this point.”

Reluctantly, Robbie nodded, and together they turned to leave. As they walked, their minds were filled with the memory of what they had seen, and the knowledge that they had been granted a rare glimpse into the past.

As they made their way down the hill, the echoes of history followed in their wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of time and the enduring power of memory.

“Think you can write a good short story for your English class, now?” Matt said as he engaged the Time Sphere to go home.