I was moved to tears.
I don’t say this lightly. I also don’t say it for dramatic effect.
I say it because as I stood there looking east over the gentle, vast, peaceful fields of Gettysburg–the spot held July 1, 1863, by the Northern Army of Virginia, before 50,000 of our nation’s boys lost their lives in three days of horrific, bloody battles–deep sadness overtook me in a heartbreaking, guttural way.
Those fields go on forever.
As do the 1,328 memorials, monuments and markers.
They are there to remind us
of the unimaginable price our forebears paid,
and that we should never, ever forget.
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