Very early on the morning of July 1, 1863, on a ridge in southeastern Pennsylvania, one of history’s pivotal battles was about to begin. A division of Confederate infantry heading east on the Chambersburg Pike toward the town of Gettysburg stumbled into a body of Union cavalry; a few shots were exchanged, lines were formed, and the great struggle was joined. Not long afterward Major General John Fulton Reynolds, bringing up the main body of the Union Army’s First Corps to support his cavalry, was struck in the back of the head and killed by a Rebel sharpshooter’s Minié ball.

The death in battle of a professional soldier, even one of so high a rank, is not remarkable. But this soldier was someone quite special, and the subsequent disclosure of his secret engagement to a handsome and unusual young woman—an engagement so abruptly and tragically terminated—makes his passing one of the most poignant stories of the Civil War.

The sharpshooter’s accuracy imposed a fearful loss on the Federal Army, for John Reynolds was one of its most promising, efficient, and popular officers. “His death affected us much,” a subordinate wrote, “for he was one of the soldier generals of the army.” Only a month before, he had been offered command of the entire Army of the Potomac by President Abraham Lincoln. Fearing political interference, he had declined the post, and it had been given to Major General George Gordon Meade, Reynolds’ junior in rank and service. Meade immediately appointed Reynolds to the command of his left wing, composed of the First, Third, and Eleventh Corps. Thus, John Reynolds, instead of being at Union headquarters back at Taneytown, Maryland, on July 1, 1863, as he might have been, was on the skirmish line at Gettysburg, directing the disposition of front-line troops.

As Reynolds fell from his horse, his orderly, Sergeant Charles H. Veil, rushed to his side. He found that the General had been killed instantly. Jn loosening the collar of Reynolds’ military blouse, his aide, Major William Riddle, discovered around the General’s neck a silver chain from which hung a Roman Catholic medal—Reynolds was a Protestant—and a gold ring in the form of clasped hands. Inside the ring were inscribed the words, “Dear Kate.” In collecting the dead man’s elicits, Veil and Riddle came across several letters sent to him from Torresdale, Pennsylvania, and signed “Kate.” They noticed also that his West Point ring, always a treasured possession, was not on his finger.

Who was Kate? As far as John Reynolds’ family and friends had known, the General at forty-two was a confirmed bachelor, dedicated single-mindedly to his profession. Ever since he entered West Point in 1837 he had kept up a voluminous correspondence with his family, especially with his beloved sisters; but none of his letters contained a hint of a serious interest in any particular young woman. Now his death, after