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.

CHAPTER XXIV.

NICE

WEATHER MARCHING ORDERS

SUTLERS TO THE

REAR-ON THE ROAD AGAIN-BATTLE OF THE CE-
DARS-MIDNIGHT CHARGE-STONEWALL JACK-

SON KILLED-BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE
-THE POTOMAC ARMY AGAIN DEFEATED.

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

སྐ

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 sounds 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

fire, and

mass at the dead hour of night, to charge on the enemy
who are slumbering in blissful ignorance of what is going
on. Our first line have their guns primed, it is the
intention when they come to the enemy to
the other lines to charge with the cold steel. The order
is quietly given to forward, and the whole mass move into
the woods, which are thick and dark as hades. No one
knows where to strike the rebel lines; some commence to
fire, others follow suit, and all blaze away, not knowing
what at, and all seem to be one vast square of fire. All
begin to yell and cheer, some go forward, some to the right
and some to the left. The rebels open with their artillery,
and ours reply from the fields. All is utter confusion, and
no one knows where we are going. I find myself with
others, charging on some works; we get over them, think-
ing they belong to the enemy, but we soon find out that
we have been charging on our own works, occupied by the
the 12th corps, who thought the rebels wanted their works,
and they left them in peace for their old friends. Whoever
took part in the fizzle in the woods on the night of the 2d
of May, will remember it as long as they live. After a
while we make our way to the field we started from.

It was in this melee in the woods that the notorious Stonewall Jackson, of the Confederate army, received his death-wound. The rebels themselves claim they gave it to him, but we don't care how he got it so long as he is out of the way, for he was the terror of our army. The details of his death we get from rebel prisoners. When he heard the firing in the woods he rode out on one part of his own lines, and was going in by another post. The rebels were so excited by the firing in the woods that they thought it was the Yankees on the charge. They fired a

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