We were right at the bank of the river and saw so many large turtles, watching for bugs or anything that might be floated. We soon looked out across the river that had spread a mile or more over the swamp, and saw a number of objects that looked no larger than many of the turtles, advancing in regular line.
I told the boys that I believed that was Yankees wading in the water and trying to make us believe they were turtles. The other boys all thought they were turtles, though.
I was right in the road that crossed the bridge and had a good view, and felt sure they were men we saw and not turtles. So I called to Lieut. McGruder to come down and investigate the matter. He hadn’t much more than reached me, before these men in the water opened fire on us and killed McGruder while talking to me.
The Yankees were armed with Spencer rifles and it made no difference how wet they got the water couldn’t penetrate the powder. They had stooped down until only their heads were above water, where it wasn’t deep enough to hide them, and when they were yet about fifty yards out from the river in the swamp timber, they fired on us, killing several men of our skirmish line and the Lieut.
We were ordered to fall back over the crest of a little hill south of us, in double quick time. We had a very brave Irish Sergeant, who said he’d never run, and as we were going back in double quick time, the Capt. said to him:
“Paddy, I thought you’d never run.”
He said: “Ah, Capt. It is shust this way. Those d——d rascals have played turtle on us and it is better for a fellow to be a coward for a few minutes, than a corpse for the rest of his life. Let the d——d rascals come out of the water loike min, and I’ll foight them until hell freezes over and thin I’ll foight thim on the ice.”
We fell back to our regular line of battle and artillery and when they came out of the water we rushed up to the top of the hill with our artillery and charged them, driving them back through the river with heavy slaughter.
Gen. Stewart, who had been taken to his brother-in-law’s home in Richmond, and was gradually growing worse, heard the cannonading and asked what it meant. They told him that Sheridan was aiming to cross at Meadow Bridge, and that Fitz Lee and Wade Hampton were holding the ford. Stewart’s reply was: “If Fitz Lee is there with the Va. cavalry, Richmond is safe.” These were the last words he spoke, that any one could understand. I’ll tell you it did our sad hearts good to know that the man we had fought with that long, had that confidence in us and that we could be among his last thoughts.
At about two o’clock the water had run down considerably, and some of us crossed to see if we could locate Sheridan’s movements. Scouting parties were sent in every direction and we soon found that he had retreated in the direction of the White House, on the York River.