There was a little battle at Falling Waters, in which Custer's Division participated.
I cannot part from Custer, however, without a heartfelt word of praise and devotion for the gallant "Boy General." His Michigan troops were among the very best in our army. I hope some of the Western readers of this will see that I bear my humble testimony to the exalted opinion Custer had of them. It was the custom of the General to frequently discuss the relative merits of their troops, and Custer certainly did love his old Division.
On this occasion, one of Custer's aides was a Michigan Officer, and in my hearing, while still on horseback, under fire, I heard Custer assure the officer that he had given Michigan full credit for certain work in his official report.
While straggling off from the headquarters during a skirmish with some Rebels upon a hill-top, I was surprised to see two good-looking young men in gray uniform come out of the woods and ride up to me. While in the midst of our army, it had never occurred to me that I was in any danger of capture, but, as I was still some distance from any of our troops, these two rebel chaps had me sure. Both were armed and well mounted, while I was, at the time, dismounted. To my great relief, however, they surrendered to me, stating that they were tired of the war, and did not want to go back to Virginia, so they had concealed themselves in the woods until an opportunity offered of surrendering. I welcomed them cordially to the North. One fellow at once handed me his pistol, belt and saber, which are to-day in my possession as trophies of war. The pistol contains yet the five loads that were put in it by the Rebel soldier. As my horse had been struck in the leg by a spent ball while on South Mountain, and was lamed from the bruise, I also traded horses with the Rebel.
And now we will again say a reluctant good-by to the Army of the Potomac.
So it came to pass that I returned to the very same grounds on which we had first visited the Army of Patterson, previous to Bull Run. We are again on the Potomac, nearly at the same point we had started from two years previously.
Obtaining a furlough from the ever-accommodating General Alexander, Chief of Staff at Cavalry Corps Headquarters, I turned my horse's head North and, instead of following the Army back into Virginia, I rode my Rebel horse, as the "solitary horseman," dressed in my war clothes and wearing my captured saber and pistol, through Chambersburg to the little hamlet where I was born, where I enjoyed a few days' rest with a sister, who was attending school at Chambersburg, and who had witnessed the Rebel Army's occupation of the place. Her story would make an interesting chapter in this connection, but we are off duty now enjoying the furlough and must hurry home.
In the few days that immediately followed, I rode, solitary and alone, along the old pike, over the Blue Ridge Mountains to Bedford, Pennsylvania, and from there debouched across the mountain by an almost unfrequented path to my father's home at Wilmore near Cresson, where I surprised the homefolks by dashing up to the door about supper time, one summer evening, wearing the uniform that I had taken away from there less than a year previously. It had, however, received its baptism of fire at Gettysburg and all along the line.
The old Rebel horse remained on my father's farm for many years.
The story from this out must be told at another time. The wonderfully thrilling and romantic story of Geno and the Wells family—which represents the "other side"—will make a volume of romance in real life that is indeed stranger than fiction, and exceeds my own adventures in our lines.