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��IN BATTLE AND IN PRISON.

��part of Wilcox's Alabama brigade, McLaw's division. But I must not an- ticipate.

During the winter of 1862-63, our brigade lay encamped near White Oak church, a locality about equi-distant, if my memory serves me, between Fal- mouth on the Rhappahannock and Belle Plain on the Potomac. It had bad ample time to recuperate from the fatigue of the "mud march," as Burn- side's second futile attempt to dislodge Lee from his intrenchments about Fredericksburg, was facetiously termed, and as spring opened the routine of life in cantonment was relieved by pa- rades, reviews, inspections, drills, and, occasionally, target practice. Mean- time Hooker had superceded Burn- side in chief command, and a new and more vigorous life had been infused in- to all branches of the service. This was particularly true of the cavalry, which had fallen into general disfavor. Under Hooker's discipline it became very effective. The high-sounding grand divisions had been broken up, and the over-cautious, phlegmatic Franklin, relieved. With other changes, came Sedgwick to the command of our corps — a great improvement in some respects on Franklin. The cool and sagacious Slocum, so long at the head of the red-cross division, had been pro- moted to the command of a corps, and Gen. Brooks, as brave, perhaps, but a far less skilful soldier, had succeeded him, having been promoted from the Vermont brigade. Gen. Joe Bartlett of New York, commanded our brigade — a fine officer, and a lion in battle. A brave man, too, was our Colonel, but deficient in tactical skill. He might not "set a squadron in the field," but he could face the enemy's line of bat- tle without flinching. In action he was the embodiment of pluck, and at such times he looked as if he might be the very

" Colonel

Who galloped through the white infernal powder cloud."

in continental days. But he did not appear to advantage on parade, being undersized and awkward gaited, with a shrill, piercing voice, not unlike that of

��the late Isaac O. Barnes, or the irre- pressible Mel. Weston, and totally in- different to all the niceities of drill so pleasing to the holiday soldier. On one occasion he forgot his place at a Brigade dress parade, and was then and there rebuked sharply by the gen- eral. Meeting the latter at headquar- ters the same evening, where a " recep- tion" to the officers of the brigade was in full career and good fellowship, aid- ed by copious draughts of " commissa- ry, " abounded, the Colonel extended his hand and piped out in a high key which attracted the attention of all present: "Gineral, I'm not much at drill I confess, but I've got a hell-fired stomach for a fight ! "

On the morning of the 28th of April, 1863, our regiment was ordered on picket duty, but scarcely had we re- lieved the old picket guard when or- ders came to return to camp, strike tents, and prepare to move at once in heavy marching order. This meant work, but was an agreeable change. I had only joined my regiment the day previous, after a brief leave of absence, and was resplendent in a new uniform, sword, etc. Of course I packed the uniform away, arid left it in care of the sutler, while I donned a knit blouse, and with a due regard for sharpshoot- ers of which the Confederacy had, as it always seemed to me when on the skirmish line, more than its share, put myself in condition for serious work, having nothing in the way of wearing apparel save my side-arms to indicate military rank. Meantime a great change had been effected in our winter quarters. The tents had been removed from the log huts to which they had served as roofs and windows, and now the bare interiors, with the debris strewn about, and broken chimneys and blackened walls alone remained. A more dismal or melancholy sight than a deserted cantonment cannot be con- ceived. "Warm work ahead, boys," gaily and cheerily remarked our jovial, stout-hearted adjutant, as he rode up to the head of the regiment. It proved to be particularly hot for him, for he received a wound in his head, in the

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