“To thunder with your pipe, Jimmy,” responded Sergt. Murphy. “You better be using your short legs pretty lively or you’ll be smoking in Libby prison tomorrow evening,” and sure enough Jimmy was among those captured.
The most ludicrous incident connected with the Bull Run affair occurred near Fairfax Court House when we supposed we were safe from the Confederate cavalry.
Between Centreville and Fairfax we passed the 14th Massachusetts, that had formed a line of battle across the turnpike to arrest the pursuing Confederates.
We breathed somewhat easier after we had put the troops between us and our pursuers.
The day was an intensely hot one, and the hundreds of horses galloping over the turnpike, hauling the heavy wagons, raised clouds of dust that were nearly suffocating, so when we crossed a little stream of water most of the teamsters halted in a large field near by for the purpose of refreshing and resting their exhausted steeds.
The two boys got out of the wagon, stretched their legs and with many others went over to the creek for a wash up.
Among the bathing party were William McNeil and “Hod” Clair of our company, who had made the retreat from Bull Run, one mounted on a mule with nothing but a halter and the other on the confiscated horse of some officer who had been killed in the battle.
While we were splashing the water and having as much sport as any party of youngsters ever did in an old fashioned “swimmin’ hole” in their school boy days, somebody shouted “The rebs are coming,” and sure enough there was a squadron of Confederate cavalry coming at a gallop down a cross road about a mile away. You may be sure that there was some right-smart hustling.
Some grabbed a blouse, cap or shirt while others buckled on their equipments in undress uniform.
My partner and I saved our clothing, but deferred dressing until we were safely in our wagon with Charley Rogers urging his four horses to their utmost speed.