Custer and Kilpatrick, with whom I was then serving, were at first immensely amused at the efforts of the militia officers to make themselves agreeable. The officers and men, too, felt, no doubt, that it was their only opportunity to see a live General, like Kilpatrick and Custer, and were bound to gratify their curiosity while they had a chance.
In addition to their curiosity, these chaps were continually imploring General Kilpatrick to let them have "just one chance at the Rebels." They begged that they might be permitted to have an opportunity to distinguish themselves before they returned to Philadelphia.
One evening Kilpatrick told Custer, in my hearing, to put some of these men out on the picket-line, which was really a most dangerous place, for they were in close proximity to the rear-guard of Lee's army. The rear of an army cornered, as was Lee's at that time, is an ugly place to put a recruit, and General Kilpatrick knew very well that, in yielding to their foolish requests, he was subjecting them to great danger. But General Kilpatrick concluded he would have a little fun out of the recruits, so he placed some of them on the advance line, and watched to see what they would do if attacked. We all dismounted, and were watching the lines of Rebels. The officer of the guard protested against having these new men on his line, saying they would be likely to raise a hornets' nest about our ears, but Kilpatrick told him to let them try their hands a little while. These men went up the hill a little distance, when their brilliant uniforms attracted the attention of the Johnnies, and, as they acted as though they were going to drive Lee's army across the Potomac, they let these recruits have a few shots by way of warning, which was answered by the Philadelphians, who became excited, with a broadside. The Rebel fire had injured about a dozen of the recruits, one big fellow keeling over and yelling like a boy stumping a sore toe. Instead of continuing up the hill, or even falling back, they all crowded together where the wounded lay, and began to console with them. They were finally brought away, with the loss of a few more men, and they did not bother General Kilpatrick again to be placed in the front rank of the army. But there was one thing about Kilpatrick: he never ordered a man to go where he was not willing to lead. I stood beside him the following day, near Williamsport, when a rifle-ball whizzed close by his ear. Jerking up his hand nervously, as if stung by a bee, or to brush off a mosquito, he turned to me and said: "Holy Moses! That ball came near hitting me." But he didn't move out of range of that sharpshooter—but I did.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CLOSING CHAPTER.
We were all expecting another great battle at Hagerstown. I hung close to the headquarters in the stirring days, after Gettysburg, during which I witnessed some scenes that would make quite interesting reading. At this time there was frequent communication between the Washington War Department and Headquarters, the greater part of which, coming by wire, I had an opportunity of scanning.
In reading the recent Century war-papers, and also some of the official reports now being published, the thought oftenest occurring to my mind is, why don't they publish everything, even the little straws, which significantly tell which way the wind was blowing at that time. We were in a manner besieged by the visitors who thronged about Headquarters, after Gettysburg, in a civil, inquisitive way that was very annoying to the officers.
General Meade has never received the full meed of praise to which he was entitled for his management of the Army of the Potomac during and in the days immediately following Gettysburg.
He was a peculiar man—in many ways, one not constituted to "command" attention. He was evidently conservative, and, perhaps, too cautious, but when one recalls that he had won a great victory, and in forcing a second battle, unprepared, he not only staked his hard-earned laurels, but he risked the army and the Capitol.