I often wonder that some of the accomplished Engineer officers do not give this matter their attention in the histories of the war that every other branch of the service is showering upon the land.
These men, supported by the artillery and a few infantry, succeeded at last in getting so many boats launched that the Rebels concluded it was time to quit bothering them any longer, when, all at once, every Rebel popped from behind his rifle-pits, took to his heels and ran for dear life across the plain toward the hills. Of course, our artillery opened upon them at a lively rate. In spite of the fact that the dead and wounded were thick around me, I yelled with as much fun and delight as I have since at baseball games to see a man make a home-run.
Not a single Johnny dropped, though they threw their guns away to lighten them in the race for the home-run.
This occurred some distance below Fredericksburg, and as there did not seem to me to be any intended movement of troops over the pontoons, which had been laid at such a terrible sacrifice of life, I rode off to the upper fords near the Lacey House, expecting to get over there. I was told, on reaching headquarters, that this was simply a "diversion," to detain, or ascertain if the enemy were still in our front.
Great Scott! what a disappointment to me. What a terrible thing is war, that will permit, as a simple diversion, the murdering in cold blood of hundreds of men without intending to profit by their work at all.
The services of a single reliable Spy, or Scout, would have accomplished more than all of this diversion. That evening the Staff moved off and I went along. I did not know then where we were going. I supposed, as did everyone else, that it was to be another battle somewhere near Fredericksburg. It never occurred to my mind then, that, in riding away from the Lacey House that June evening, I should never see it again.
I do not suppose a dozen persons outside of General Lee's staff, imagined we were going to ride home to Pennsylvania—to Gettysburg. That's where we went. And, before leaving Fredericksburg, I wanted to say a few words of farewell to Geno.
There are one or two old, old songs, which have always remained such particular favorites with me that my friends have learned to expect me to call for them, in season or out of season.
I mention them now for the benefit of the sons and daughters of veterans, and the other friends, young and old, who have followed the "boy" in his love-making under the great difficulties that a war develops.
They are beautiful songs besides and the words and melody more clearly define the romance than my pen could describe.