Sep 21, 2026 · 52 min · 13 segments
Shanna is all fired up over her recent trip to Gettysburg and had to set the record straight on one of the locations she visited during her stay. Join us as we learn all about the Rupp House! * * *…
Pukwa PJ wasn't one of them.
Nope.
He'd heard the stories, of course.
Every bookstore, museum, gift shop, and tour guide seemed to have one.
Yon.
Phantom soldiers marched across moonlit fields and invisible artillery boomed in the distance.
Cliché.
Shadowy figures wandered through old houses where the dead outnumbered the living.
Ooh.
It all felt too convenient.
Mm-hmm.
A little too polished for tourists hoping to be frightened before bedtime.
That's right.
No, Pacwa PJ had come for the history.
Along with Scott, Psycho Penny's history-loving husband.
By the way, I got the approval for this.
That was what led them down Baltimore Street on a warm autumn afternoon.
The sky was a brilliant blue.
Birds chirped from nearby trees.
Tourists laughed as they crossed intersections.
It felt like the furthest thing imaginable from a haunted battlefield.
When they arrived at the site known as the Well in No Man's Land, they almost walked past it.
There was no crumbling ruin, no iron fence draped in cobwebs, no weathered warning signs telling visitors to stay away.
Just a simple, historic location nestled among ordinary buildings and sidewalks.
Pukwa PJ wasn't one of them.
Nope.
He'd heard the stories, of course.
Every bookstore, museum, gift shop, and tour guide seemed to have one.
Yon.
Phantom soldiers marched across moonlit fields and invisible artillery boomed in the distance.
Cliché.
Shadowy figures wandered through old houses where the dead outnumbered the living.
Ooh.
It all felt too convenient.
Mm-hmm.
A little too polished for tourists hoping to be frightened before bedtime.
That's right.
No, Pacwa PJ had come for the history.
Along with Scott, Psycho Penny's history-loving husband.
By the way, I got the approval for this.
That was what led them down Baltimore Street on a warm autumn afternoon.
The sky was a brilliant blue.
Birds chirped from nearby trees.
Tourists laughed as they crossed intersections.
It felt like the furthest thing imaginable from a haunted battlefield.
When they arrived at the site known as the Well in No Man's Land, they almost walked past it.
There was no crumbling ruin, no iron fence draped in cobwebs, no weathered warning signs telling visitors to stay away.
Just a simple, historic location nestled among ordinary buildings and sidewalks.
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