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to look down the hill at the Yankees who are getting into formation. No one’s watching me. This is as good a time as any to slink away. I know the battle will pass this hill in a little while. Maybe I can just hide until everyone moves on. There’s a fallen tree about twenty yards behind our line. If I can just make it to there, I should be able to sit out the rest of the battle. Then I can concentrate on getting back.
    Just as I am getting ready to run, someone barks, “You two! I need two fast runners.”
    â€œYes, sir,” calls Cyrus eagerly, pulling me to my feet.
    The order has come from an officer. It’s Colonel Evans, and Cyrus seems anxious to please him.
    â€œOur signal boys are missing,” Colonel Evans says. “I need you two to take a message to General Bee.”
    â€œYes, sir!” chirps Cyrus happily.
    This sounds great. If I can’t hide behind a tree, at least I’ll be running away from the action.
    But as Colonel Evans hands Cyrus the message, another thought occurs to me. “What happened to the other signal boys?” I ask.
    Colonel Evans doesn’t answer. From the look on his face, he doesn’t have to. Those boys aren’t missing. They’re already dead. Messengers make easy targets for Yankee sharpshooters.
    From where we’re standing on Matthews Hill, Colonel Evans points out Bee’s men. They’re about half a mile away on top of Henry Hill, beside a two-story white building that has to be the Henry House. It might as well be thirty miles away. The land between the two hills is an open hay field. Separating the hills is a wide dirt road known as the Warrenton Turnpike and Young’s Branch, a creek that flows into Bull Run. A brick house by the turnpike and a few trees along Young’s Branch are the only protection from Yankee sharpshooters and cannons pouring fire on us.
    It’s hard to believe these guys had to go through this much trouble to send a message half a mile. I’m going to be really ticked off if I get killed because Colonel Evans didn’t have a cell phone.
    â€œGet going!” roars Colonel Evans. “You tell Bee to either send more men up here or expect us to fall back to that hill where he’s standing. Now go! Go!”
    Cyrus takes off like a freaked-out rabbit. I’m right behind him, realizing that the faster we run the safer we will be. I hope this isn’t where Cyrus gets his butt shot, because then I’ll be out there all alone.
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    For a moment, no one seems to be shooting at us. I look around as we run down Matthews Hill and notice that except for a stray cannonball every now and then, we aren’t in the line of Yankee fire.
    We scramble through the field and pass by the brick house, which I recognize as the Stone House from my many trips to the battlefield park with dad. We cross the Warrenton Turnpike and wade through Young’s Branch.
    Cyrus must be in good shape, because he’s still going strong. Me, I’m panting and wheezing. The only time I’ve ever run this far was in gym class, and it took me the whole period to make it. But now I’m too scared to fall behind.
    We come out of the trees lining the creek and start up Henry Hill when suddenly to our right we see two old ladies in dusty dresses carrying an even older lady on a mattress. They stumble. The old lady almost falls to the ground. She cries out, and I can see that all three women are terrified.
    â€œWhat the heck?” says Cyrus, who is, of course, completely surprised by this. I’m confused for a second too, until it dawns on me it has to be old Mrs. Judith Henry.
    I hesitate, not sure what to do. I know that Mrs. Henry, whose house sits on Henry Hill, is not going to live through the day. By pure coincidence, her house, out of the thousands and thousands in Virginia, is where these two massive armies fight their first battle.
    â€œNo, no, take me back to the house!”