let them beware, for it may be our turn next to play the same game. Let them fit up their Alabamas and man them, to destroy our commerce. They can do a great many mean things now with impunity, but the day of reckoning will come, when John Bull will be paid back with heavy interest what is due him by our much abused Uncle Sam. After a few days' stay, I take a parting farewell of friends and relatives and am off for Detroit, where I arrive much. recruited in flesh and health. An all-nights' ride on the lazy express on the D & M. railroad finds me once more in the Valley City. Everything looks as natural as ever. By night my right arm is very lame, and no wonder, after the shaking it had to go through by all my friends. All is done that can be to make my visit pleasant. But now only four days are left for me to get back to the army, and bidding good-bye to dear friends, I retrace my way back to my log house in the camp in front of Fredricksburg, where I arrive in due time and am met by my comrades, and it seems like home to get back again, and tell them of the thousand things I saw while away in the North. CHAPTER XXIII. ORDERS TO MARCH-WE TRY A FLANK MOVEMENT—AND GET About the 1st of February we have orders to be ready to march, and so we fill our haversacks with hard-tack, saltpork, coffee and sugar. We take off our shelter tents, and pack them in our knap-sacks, leave the bare walls of our houses to keep lonely watch, and file out of our camp on the Richmond road again. The army march along to the right of our lines, and it is plain a flank movement is on foot. After getting twelve or thirteen miles the rain pours down in torrents, making the roads fearfully muddy. The army halt on the banks of the Rappahannock. We pitch our tents for a covering from the cold rains, and build fires in the woods. The smoke lingers around, for the atmosphere is so heavy it will not bear it away. Our eyes are nearly melted out of their sockets with the thick smoke, and we have to lie on the wet ground to relieve them. Oh, what misery we are in, wet to the skin, ragged, dirty and hungry, for our supplies cannot get up over the muddy roads, and artillery, wagons and ambulances are all stuck in the mud. One morning, on looking across the river we observe that the rebels have plac-cards stuck on poles, letting us know that Burnside is stuck in the mud. They throw all kinds of slang at us, and have lots of fun at our expense, and we can't help it, for we all know we are stuck. Our commander finds out that it would be useless for him to try to go any further, and we get the order to retrace our steps for camp. We pack up our wet traps, and each man has a load fit for a mule to carry. I never knew so much discontent in the army before. A great many say they "don't care whether school keeps now or not," for they think there is a destructive fate hovering over our army. At this time there are a large number of desertions, and unless something is done to prevent it, our ranks will grow pretty thin in a short while. Arriving back in our old camps again we cover the bare walls of logs, and go to house-keeping once more. The picket-line is doubled to keep a closer watch on those who mean to desert. Hand-bills are circulated through the army by the Southern authorities, that they will furnish free transportation to any country on the globe to all who will desert into their lines. Orders come, and are issued from our headquarters, putting quite a veto on the above offer. All who are caught deserting will be shot. This puts an end, virtually, to deserting. About the last of March, General Burnside is removed, and General Hooker takes command. The authorities at Washington want to try another experiment on the army of the Potomac. Now, we all feel that General Hooker will be like the poor man that won the elephant at the raffle. After he got the animal he did not know what to do with him. So with fighting Joseph. He is now in command of a mighty large elephant, and it will remain to be seen if he knows what to do with him. All know that General Hooker can command and fight a division to perfection, but to take a great army like ours in hand, and cope with the great rebel chief successfully, is another thing. But we will wait and see, and like good soldiers, obey orders and go where we are sent, even unto death. NICE WEATHER CHAPTER XXIV. MARCHING ORDERS SUTLERS TO THE SON KILLED-BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE The spring of 1863 is ushered in with beautiful weather, and, of course, should it last long, we shall soon be on the move again. About April 26th we have orders to be ready to march. The sutlers, with their surplus stuff, are ordered to the rear. The sick are sent to the different hospitals, and we are all ready for the Richmond road. We proceed along on the same road meant to be traveled by General Burnside, when we got stuck in the mud. We cross the Rappahannock at Ely's Ford, on the 28th, and proceed as far as we can into the enemy's country, pulling up at the Chancellorsville House, where the Army of the Potomac is got into position. Now the army is in splendid condition, and we all think that probably we might do something under Fighting Joe; and he thinks so himself, for he issues an order to the army, that he has got the enemy where he wants them; that they will have to come out and fight him on his own ground, or fly ignominiously, which will cause their utter destruction. Now, after this celebrated order is read to us, we feel confident that something extraordinary is going to be done, and we wait anxiously for the enemy to come out of their holes, or see them fly ignominiously. The Red Diamond division has a position on the Richmond road, commanded by our gallant Birney. Ha, we see over the valley beyond, long wagon trains, moving south. Now they are on the move and are flying sure. Our division is ordered forward, and get into the cedar woods, where we strike some rebels, who fire into us, but we go for them with the bayonet. They fall back, and we advance, fighting all the way for about three miles. They pull up behind some works, and we halt in front. The rebel train keeps moving on, and we lie still, for some cause or other. Berdan's sharp-shooters have quite a fight on the picket line. Our regiment is ordered to lie down, and we are in such a position that the rebels have a good chance to fire at us. Once in a while one of our poor fellows is taken to the rear, mortally wounded. It is here that a comrade of mine gets killed, P. H. Doran, and a better soldier never carried a musket than he. While lieing down, a bullet from a sharp-shooter did the deed, and passed through his head. Poor fellow, he has fought his last battle, and his campaigns are ended. Let him be inscribed on the roll of honor as a martyr to his adopted country. While lying still, we hear, all at once, a tremendous firing in our rear; it scunds in the direction of the position we left in the morning. Can it be possible the enemy is in our rear? Such is the fact, for we soon find out that the rebel General Jackson has got around behind us, and is fighting the 11th corps under Howard, who was in the position we left. Now we are in a pretty condition, rebels in front and rebels in our rear. We must get out of this, or else be gobbled up. So getting back, we change our front of the morning to rear at night. The 11th corps are driven from their position. Night puts an end to all fighting, and we take up a position in an open field, and try to rest after our day's fatigue. The queen of night shines out with all her brightness, and throws her lustre all around, making the fields as bright as day. All is as still as the grave; nothing to break the stillness of the hour but the neighing of the horses of the artillery close by. At about twelve o'clock we get the order to fall in, and it is made known to us that a midnight charge is on foot to dislodge the enemy and take back our lost ground. The awful grandeur of the scene defies description. About 15,000 soldiers are in solid |