About the 20th of October we have orders to be ready to march with three days rations and the usual forty rounds of ammunition in the cartridge boxes. We file out of the fort and this time strike off to the left of our lines, on another flank movement. We march in the rear of our lines, and pull up by a run named, I presume, after some man by the name of Hatcher. We get into line in front of some rebel works that command the Boydtown plank road. The rebels open a vigorous fire on us from a fort in our front, and our artillery in an instant is in position and return their fire. Part of our corps is heavily engaged in some thick slashing, and the rebels retire inside their works, where they hold their own. Our brigade, under the funny Frenchman, General De Trobriand, is assigned a position on the flank to guard it from an attack, but we do not anticipate one in this quarter, and if we are left here we all think we won't have much fighting to do. So we walk around leisurely, and some of us stroll up to a small grove to see the head generals of the army. There is a lull in the battle, and they all sit or walk around taking observations and discussing the probabilities of the move. There is General Grant, Commander of the army, the gallant Generals Meade and Hancock, other Generals of lesser note and their aids, orderlies, and servants. They are having gay times, and talk and laugh as though nothing was going to happen; but their fun comes to a sudden stop. The rebels open out on them, and pour shot and shell into their midst. Of course, there is a scattering, and we all put back to our regiments. The enemy keep up the fire, and all wonder what the next move will be. We have some videttes out in front, and all laugh and talk as though we were safe from an attack in our position. Hark! a shot is heard in our front. It is only some of the boys in front

discharging his piece, to reload again with a fresh cartridge, think all; but pop, pop, pop, is heard again, and some of our videttes come back wounded. They could not tell who fired at them-probably some of our own men by mistake. But pretty soon all the advance fall back on our lines, followed close by heavy lines of rebel infantry, and before we have time to be ready for them they fire a deadly volley into our ranks. In an instant every man is in his place, pouring deadly missles into the ranks of the advancing foe. The fire along the line is deafening, and the remnant of the old Third, with the gallant "Fighting Fifth," never fought better during the whole war. The foe gets away from our front and make an onslaught on the regiment to our right, and they have to give way against fearful odds. The enemy now pour an enfilading fire on us, and get reinforced in our front. For awhile we hold them, and pour the bullets from our breach-loading guns among them, but they are too many for us, and charge right into our midst. Of course I must get away with my colors, and a number around me are taken prisoners. Looking behind me, I see a large corn field to be crossed, and with several of the boys start to run the gauntlet. The rebels open on us, and the balls spat around us like hail. Some of our comrades fall dead, but we must keep on and get out of the way. Of course, it would not be gallant to say that anybody run, but if there was any tall walking done during the war, we did it crossing that field. How is that, Captain Gunsalar? There is a high fence before us, but I, for my part, cannot tell how I ever got on, the other side, but I found myself there safe, pursued closely by the rebels. All now is utter confusion. The rebels turn our guns on us. They have captured large numbers of prison

ers, and unless something is done we shall all be captured, for the rebels are advancing in large force.

Our brave Corps Commander, General Hancock, rides up and brings order out of chaos. We go to work and throw up breastworks, and soon have a covering made with rails, and all fall behind and wait for the rebel charge. They come, but cannot drive us from our covering, and we hold them at bay. Meantime some reinforcements arrive, and they walk around the Johnnies and capture nearly all that charged on us, besides retaking most of our men and all our cannons. This, for a short fight, has been one of the bloodiest of the war, and some of us never were in a tighter box during the whole campaign of '64. Our regiment lose very heavily in this day's fight in killed, wounded and prisoners. Among the former is our gallant Adjutant, James McInly, as brave a soldier as ever marched; Lieutenant Birdsal is wounded, and Lieutenant Peter Lennon, with several others, is missing. Peter afterward made his escape, after enduring severe hardships, from the Salisbury prison hell. The account of his escape would fill an interesting volume.

Night puts an end to the battle of Hatcher's Ruo, surnamed the Bull Ring. We get the order to march back again to camp, after lying down in the mud and rain to have a rest after our late fizzle on the rebel's right. We arrive safe at our camp in Fort Davis, after a hard night's march.

CHAPTER XLVI.

CAMP LIFE AGAIN-WINTER QUARTERS-THANKSGIVINGHOME AGAIN-FEELING IN THE NORTH-BACK TO

THE ARMY-PROGRESS OF THE SIEGE.

November now is upon us, and we settle down to camp life again. The same routine is gone through-camp guard, picket duty and fatigue duty. Winter is upon us, and heavy cold rains commence to fall. Of course we pitch in and make ourselves as comfortable as we can; build fireplaces in our tents, and draw more covering from our Uncle's wardrobe. Now that all operations, except the regular siege, are at an end for the season, we say that the quicker the winter is over the better we like it, for no soldier likes the inactive life of camp more than three or four weeks at a time.

The time honored Thanksgiving day is announced by the President. We have a rumor that the good old New England States are to give the Army of the Potomac a dinner in the olden style-turkeys, chickens plum puddings and pumpkin pies. Everybody is on the lookout for the grand dinner. The day has arrived, and sure enough the rumor proves to be true, for vessels are discharging their cargoes of good things from our New England friends. Everything is dealt out in good shape, and each man gets his share, which is more than enough for a good square meal. God bless those dear friends for their kindness in

not forgetting us. All will remember with gratitude the donors of the good things sent us on that ever to be remembered thanksgiving day.

Now that the campaign is over, I am thinking of visiting my friends once more. I send up my furlough through the regular channel, and it comes back approved. I bid good-bye to my comrades and take the train for City Point, and thence by boat for Washington, spending a miserable night on the way. Not being an officer, of course I could not enter the cabin, and with hundreds of soldiers, choose a soft spot on deck, and go to sleep. Arrived safe in Washington, we leave the boat with sore hips, and go to the paymaster's to get our pockets filled with greenbacks. Making my way to a barber shop, I get fixed up and feel as fresh as though hardships are unknown to me. Taking the train for Baltimore I spend the night in the Monumental city for the first time. I go to the theatre and see the brilliant little star, Maggie Mitchell, play in her favorite character of Fanchon the Cricket. Next morning I leave for Harrisburg, then through the old Alleghanies, which are covered at this time with their winter sheet of snow, to Pittsburg. The ride I enjoy very much, for it is a comfort to ride in the beautiful coaches of the Pennsylvania Central. Cleveland is reached, then Toledo, and in good time the City of the Straits, where a Michigan soldier is always welcomed, and feels at home. Crossing the river I am soon among my friends in Canada. The same bitter feeling still exists among the Kanucks against the North, and they say the South will never be brought back into the Union again. This kind of talk I don't like, and a short visit is enough for me, and I make my way back to Michigan, my Michigan again, where I find a different feeling prevailing in regard to the war. I am asked how the soldiers in the field feel about the war at the present state of affairs. I tell my friends that nothing but hard fighting will put down the rebellion, and they would have to come and help,