Yank. I am a prisoner, sir, and must decline to answer any questions touching our position or forces.
Confederate. That's all right, Captain, but I would like to know whether you have any skirmishers in there. Do you know where Gordon's brigade is?
Yank. Gordon's brigade! Why, I don't know where I am myself.
Confederate. Then there are two of us in the same fix. To tell the truth, I am lost. I got through an interval in your lines, I think; at all events, I found myself in your rear without knowing how I got there, and was trying to get back when you uns run over us. We just lay still, and the Yanks passed us.
Yank. In which direction did they go?
Confederate. Out yon.
Yank. Then it strikes me that your rear is in an opposite direction.
Confederate. Well, yes, I reckon so. Corporal, take this officer to the rear and find the Provost Marshal and report him.
En Route to Lynchburg
I found myself traveling toward Richmond in quite different company and under less favorable auspices than I had ever imagined would be my lot. After running about an hour we at length found the Provost guard of the Confederate army, and to my chagrin about twelve hundred of my companions in misfortune. Some, like myself, were wounded. Some expressed impatience and mortification. Others evidently accepted their condition as inevitable and determined to make the best of it, expressing more concern for the success of our arms than solicitude for themselves.