I was gratified to hear this from him, and asked no further questions as to his source of information, but ever after that I was further convinced not only of the Captain's kindly feeling toward me, but of the other officers as well, by the fact that, on almost every important occasion, I was honored by being selected for special Orderly duty with the officers.
We marched or rode our squadron out of Fort Albany camp one cold, damp December morning, crossed the Long Bridge, passed through the lower part of the city, up over Capitol Hill, where I got a farewell glimpse of Old Capitol Prison from under my fatigue cap, seated on a horse, going to the front.
We crossed the old bridge, beyond the Navy Yard, over the Eastern Branch, went up over the hill, and were soon out of sight of Washington, traveling all day over the same route that Wilkes Booth took in his flight to Virginia the night of the assassination.
The next morning we reached the river at some point, and put in all that day in getting our horses and baggage ferried across about four miles of water.
The next night we slept on the sacred soil at or near Aquia Creek, in Virginia—precisely the same point from which I had embarked as a first-class passenger in charge of an officer en route to Old Capitol Prison.
The following day we marched over a long, wind-about road to cover the fourteen miles from the Potomac to the Rappahannock. How shall I write it, but that evening at sundown, as soon as I could beg the privilege, I rode my horse down to the Lacey House, which, as all old soldiers know, is located on the banks of the Rappahannock directly opposite Fredericksburg. The Rappahannock river only was between me and Geno; but, oh! my heart ached when I realized what a great gulf it was; and that was as near as I could get to Fredericksburg. Though at this point it is but a narrow stream—so narrow indeed that a conversation in an ordinary tone of voice could be carried on over it—I could not, except under the penalty of being at once shot to death by our own or the rebel forces, make even the slightest attempt at signaling to the other shore. The Rebel Army occupied that side.
I could see walking about the streets some few persons in citizen's clothes, but all along the river, and at the foot of the street leading to the river, were armed men in gray uniforms. They had possession of the town that held all that was dear to me just then—little Geno Wells.
I lingered until the early twilight of that December evening began to drop down like a curtain; then with a heavy heart I rode slowly back to our own camp, determined in my own mind and heart that I should get into that town somehow, in spite of our own and the Rebel Army.
In my hurry to go down to the river, I had not taken sufficient care to get the bearings of our newly-located camp, and on my return at dark I experienced considerable difficulty in finding my way home. In my bewilderment, I ran afoul of so many camps and extra sentries that I was detained until quite late.
Our regiment was acting as Provost-Guard at Gen. Burnside's headquarters, and, as almost everybody knew where headquarters were to be found, I finally got on the right track.