This was a sore temptation to the boys, who every once in a while popped away wherever they saw a head emerge from the tall grass, and it delighted them greatly to see the individual drop as he heard the report, seemingly ashamed to find that the other fellow had the "drop" on him. Sudden cheering from the center was the signal for our advance. This time we only ran about ten yards and then dropped like a flash, for the enemy was about to pour a volley into us. Just at this moment the bugle sounded the "cease firing" and then the "assembly." When the firing ceased we had our opponents nearly surrounded. One man was hurt slightly with a bayonet. It was a great victory for the Second New Jersey. Lieutenant Brunner, the only one of Company L's officers present, had a hard time trying to keep his command under control, and succeeded extremely well, deserving the highest praise, the non-commissioned officers and men conforming to his commands promptly and with energy.
Friday morning at company drill Lieutenant Brunner sent the first platoon out through the woods and five minutes later the second to find the first. The second, under Sergeant Van Roden, took a short cut to intercept the first, which was under Sergeant Charles Dabinett, and this was what happened: We (the second) took post behind a shed in a deserted yard. I was stationed with four men along a fence from which some of the boards were missing. Sergeant Collins, with Private Craig and two others, went out and as the first platoon appeared these four set up a great shouting, luring them on past our ambuscade. The long legged men of the first were so intent upon coming up with the second, represented by Sergeant Collins and three men, whose heads only could be seen above the tall grass and bushes, that one section under Corporal Cohen went fairly and squarely into the trap set for them. But, unlike the rough riders, they could not get out again, for my detail, getting in their rear and being reinforced by the rest of the platoon, they were soon disarmed. The first section with Sergeant Dabinett coming to their relief were also taken into camp.
Lessons of this sort were likely to be of great benefit to the boys, especially as parts of our company were usually thrown out as flankers for the regiment, and taught them to be on their guard continually.
Towards the middle of August the climate began to tell on the boys. During June the ground was very dry and the atmosphere was clear and full of the odor of pines. In July the rains commenced, and hardly did the torrent cease before the sun set everything steaming. Vapor at night rose from the ground in greater quantities and it was not long before the hospitals were taxed to their utmost. In a great many cases home sickness would lead the way, while in others it was excesses. The number became so great that details from each company were sent to the hospital as assistants.
The sickness was also felt among the officers. During Captain Ely's leave of absence Lieutenant Blake was taken down with malarial fever and procured leave to go up the St. Johns to weather the malady. In the midst of this season of sickness (although not the worst by far) occurred the passing away of Private Jacob Kotzenberg of typhoid, the first patriot of our command and the second in the regiment, just upon the eve of dawning peace. He was buried with honors near his home after befitting services, both at Jacksonville and Rutherford. This death stirred our people greatly and set them all to thinking. The peace preliminaries had been signed and our victorious armies and navy enjoined from making further hostile advances. The return of the soldiers was eagerly discussed, for it was felt that others in our southern army might pass away at any time.
One week had hardly passed when two more of our comrades gave up their lives. Dread typhoid hovered over the camp and only the most hardy withstood its withering touch. These devoted lives were Private Henry Newman of Paterson and Corporal Bennett Cohen of Rutherford. The latter was my tent-mate and warm friend and I knew him best. At no other time during our service had such a desolate feeling spread over our camp. It rained frequently, the nights were gloomy and damp, and some of our most popular boys had gone to the hospital.
Our folks at home were clamoring for our return. Horrible stories were afloat there of our treatment. The unhealthfulness of the camp was such and lately such terrific downpours of rain had flooded everything, that camps on lower ground had become untenantable, so one morning when we found that our neighbor, the Second Virginia, had packed up and moved farther west, we felt that something must be done to break the monotonous gloomy aspect. Our boys were sickening rapidly, and only a few days before one of our most popular corporals had been taken from the street a hopeless case. We knew it as we saw him depart and pitied the poor fellow.