In the fight about these headquarters I saw a Confederate officer sabre a man who I believe belonged to the Maryland regiment; and although the man begged for quarter, I saw this officer strike him twice after he offered to surrender. I tried to shoot him, but the ball from my pistol missed him and struck his horse. This did not take immediate effect. Finding that I was about to be cut off, as Windham's command had been repulsed and Kilpatrick had not arrived, and having only one charge left in my revolver, I had to allow the officer to ride up to strike me, so as to be sure of my aim. As I presented the pistol, it missed fire, and as soon as he could recover his seat in the saddle he struck at me. I had, however, fallen down on the neck of my horse, so the point of the sabre cut into my collar-bone, but the weight of the blow cut a two-quart pail, that I had borrowed that morning to cook coffee in, nearly in two. Before either of us could recover control of our horses, I had gotten my sabre in my hand, which had been hanging by a knot from my wrist, as was the custom. He then struck at me the second time, which blow I parried. His horse then sank under him. I was then being crowded in a corner, where a fence joined a building, by four of his followers, one of whom was dismounted. The latter I saw shooting at me. Urging my horse he jumped a fence and then a ditch beyond it. This enabled me to escape with only the loss of my hat. I was particularly anxious not to be captured, because before going into the action the General had confided to me, for safe-keeping, all his despatches and instructions, which it was my custom to carry about my person, as, wearing a private's uniform, in the event of capture, there would be less liability of my being searched than in the case of a staff-officer wearing the uniform of an adjutant-general. I finally joined some of our men near the railroad station, but could not find the General; so, for the time being, I reported to an officer of the First New Jersey cavalry, whom I knew, and remained with him until we were again cut off by a force of the enemy. Later in the day I found General Gregg, who, I was told, had been quite anxious lest I had been captured, for some one had reported that he had seen me hard pressed by the enemy, and he supposed I was captured, and the General knew I had his papers in my pocket.
My wound was not dangerous, though painful, and that night, after it was plastered up by the doctor, I sat up and made out a list of the casualties of the division during the day. When it was suggested by Adjutant-General Weir, that I include my name, I remarked that I thought I would not do it, as seeing it in the newspapers would needlessly alarm my mother, and that it did not amount to anything serious, and wasn't worth while. After the war, however, on the advice of friends, I reported this circumstance to the War Department and had it certified by both General Gregg and Colonel Weir,[1] who are still living, merely to make it a part of my record there on file.
Kilpatrick's men soon reached the house, capturing Stuart's adjutant-general and his papers. The fighting was desperate; charges being made, repulsed, and repeated by our men against a much larger force, as Duffie's brigade had failed to report. Finally, the Confederates bringing infantry from Culpeper, our commands were withdrawn, without molestation by the enemy, across the Rappahannock, the purpose of the movement being accomplished; which was to cripple Stuart's cavalry, to prevent his starting on a raid to Pennsylvania which was contemplated, and also to ascertain if Lee's army was still in that vicinity. It was also a great benefit to our troops engaged, in giving them experience in fighting in large bodies mounted, with sabres, and added much to their confidence, as was demonstrated in later engagements.
After the battle, meeting the man who loaned me his tin pail which had been destroyed by the sabre blow I described, I explained to him how it happened, when, to my surprise, he complainingly remarked, "Well, how do you suppose I am going to cook my coffee?" Whereupon, I remarked, "Well, I can't help it, but I will give you a new pail as soon as I can buy one." Evidently the loss of his coffee boiler was of more consequence to him than my narrow escape.
CHAPTER VII
In about ten days General Gregg's division marched towards Aldie, the object being to discover the movements of Lee's army; the idea being that our cavalry should find their cavalry, attack and drive them back on their infantry, thus obtaining the knowledge the commander of the army required. On this march to Aldie General Pleasanton, the corps commander, was represented at General Gregg's headquarters by one of his staff officers, Captain George A. Custer, afterwards General. When Custer appeared he at once attracted the attention of the entire command. On that day he was dressed like an ordinary enlisted man, his trousers tucked in a pair of short-legged government boots, his horse equipments being those of an ordinary wagonmaster. He rode with a little rawhide riding whip stuck in his bootleg, and had long yellow curls down to his shoulders, his face ruddy and good-natured.
While on this march we came to a stream beside the road, in which a full battalion could water their horses at once. As the headquarters staff and the troops following us had gone into line to permit their horses to drink, Custer, for some reason, concluded to go in on the other side of the stream, riding in alone to allow his horse to drink. He did not know how deep the water was, and after his horse was satisfied, instead of returning by the way he went in, concluded to cross the stream and come out on our side. The water was deeper than he anticipated and his horse nearly lost his footing. However, when he got to our side, he urged his horse to climb out at a point where the bank was steep. In this effort he fell over backward, Custer going out of sight in the water. In an instant, however, he was up on his feet and the horse struggled out amid the shouts of the spectators, when, mounting his horse, the march was resumed. The dust at this time was so thick that one could not see more than a set of fours ahead, and in a few minutes, when it settled on his wet clothes and long wet hair, Custer was an object that one can better imagine than I can describe.
