Custer respectfully but firmly demurred to moving until his men could have their breakfast—rather their dinner, for the forenoon was already spent. Neither men nor horses had had anything to eat since the night before, and he urged that the horses should have a feed and the men have an opportunity to make coffee before they were required to go farther.
Custer was a fighting man, through and through, but wary and wily as brave. There was in him an indescribable something—call it caution, call it sagacity, call it the real military instinct—it may have been genius—by whatever name entitled, it nearly always impelled him to do intuitively the right thing. In this case it seemed obstinacy, if not insubordination. It was characteristic of him to care studiously for the comfort of his men. And he did not believe in wasting their lives. It is more than probable that there was in his mind a suspicion of the true state of things. If so, he did not say so, even to the general commanding the division. He kept his own counsel and had his way. The delay was finally sanctioned by Kilpatrick, and the brigade remained on the bank feeding their horses and making coffee, Davies meanwhile advancing cautiously on the Warrenton road to a point within about two or three miles of Warrenton. Stuart made slight if any attempt to resist his progress.
The Gainesville-Warrenton pike, after crossing Broad Run, is bounded on both sides by cleared farm lands, fringed about one-third of a mile back by woods. From the place of Custer's halt it was not more than 500 or 600 yards to these woods. The road runs in a westerly direction and the brigade was on the south side of it.
There is very little of record from which to determine the time consumed by Custer's halt. It is a peculiar circumstance that not a single report of this battle made by a regimental commander in Custer's brigade appears in the official war records. A similar omission has been noted in the battle of Gettysburg. Custer made a report and so did Kilpatrick and Davies, but they are all deficient in details. There is no hint in any of them as to the duration of the delay. The confederate chronicles are much more complete. From them it would appear that the stop was made about noon and that the real battle began at 3:30 in the afternoon. Memory is at fault on this point for the reason that after coffee and while the horses were feeding I lay down upon the ground and fell asleep. Before that some of the men had gone into the adjacent fields in search of long forage. It was understood that the Seventh Michigan after crossing at the lower ford was scouting through the country toward Greenwich and there was no hint or suspicion that an enemy could approach from that direction without being discovered by this scouting party.
Finally Custer was ready to move. Awakened by a staff officer I was directed to report to the general.
"Major," said he, "take position with your regiment about 500 yards toward those woods remain there until the command is in column on the pike, then follow and bring up the rear."
The order was given with a caution to be careful, as the Seventh Michigan had been scouting near Greenwich and might be expected to come in from that direction. Greenwich is almost due south from Buckland Mills, whereas Auburn, from which place Fitzhugh Lee was approaching, lay considerably west of south.
The movement of the two commands began simultaneously. The Fifth Michigan, Pennington's battery, the First Michigan and First Vermont, with Custer and his staff leading, were in a few moments marching briskly in column on the Warrenton pike, which was not very far away from the starting point. The Sixth Michigan meantime proceeded in column of fours toward the place designated by General Custer, close up to the woods. Nothing had been seen or heard of Davies for some time. Everything was quiet. Nothing could be heard except the tramp of the horses' feet and the rumble of the wheels of Pennington's gun carriages, growing more and more indistinct as the distance increased.
