“If I did not know you and the Colonel were at headquarters last evening, I would be inclined to believe you had partaken of some of the proceeds of Commissary John Howard’s successful raid of yesterday,” he replied.
“But I do not know anything of Captain Howard’s raid or what he captured,” I somewhat petulantly rejoined, for I did not like the idea of my great secret being treated with such indifference; “and I moreover assure you I am altogether in earnest. Now listen, and I will convince you I am right: You know that Longstreet and Hill are in advance of us, and I will inform you that Rhodes has left Carlisle, and Early is at York. Well, from York there is a turnpike to Baltimore, as you are aware. Early will take that road and operate upon the line of the Northern Central Railroad. There are two fine turnpikes also from Gettysburg (whither we are going, as this road can lead us nowhere else,) to Baltimore, the one passing through Littlestown, Westminster, &c., the other by the way of Hanover and Manchester to Reisterstown, sixteen miles from the city, where the two meet. Rhodes will join us at Gettysburg, and the whole army, with the exception of Early, will take these parallel turnpikes and reach Reisterstown simultaneously, for the distance is the same. Rest assured all this marching and countermarching was for the purpose of misleading Hooker; and now that General Lee has him out of the way, he intends to slip into Baltimore and Washington before he can discover his error.”
I believe my reasoning made some impression; but not being of so sanguine a temperament as myself, he was far from being fully convinced. How far right and how far wrong I was in my conjectures the sequel proved. It was not my first attempt to penetrate the designs of my commander-in-chief, but I determined it should be my last.
After a rapid march of a few hours the column reached the town of Fayetteville, through which we passed without a halt. Shortly after, the troops of Longstreet’s corps were encountered, quietly cooking their rations in a wood close by the roadside. These veterans—scarcely a man of whom did not carry the scars of some hard fought field—suspended their labors and closely scrutinized us as we passed by. How it made my heart thrill with pleasurable emotions as I heard the compliments they bestowed with no sparing hand upon the splendid command to which I had the honor of belonging. By the tap of the drum they moved like machinery, and with that quick, nervous step and precision for which they were so justly celebrated throughout the entire army.
“Look out for your laurels, Fourth Texas,” I heard an officer exclaim in that regiment of imperishable renown, “for if I mistake not there goes a little battalion that will give you a tug for your next wreath.” And similar remarks were heard on every side.
On we pressed, and rapidly neared the town of Gettysburg. But eight miles more, and we will encamp for the night upon its outskirts.
But what means this commotion ahead? Something is out, most assuredly. The order passes along the line to “Move up, men, move up.”
“Dr. Snowden,” I remarked to the surgeon of the battalion, who was riding by my side, “I have imagined for some minutes that I heard the sound of artillery ahead, and from the confusion among the staff officers I am half convinced I did.”
“I was about to remark the same,” the Doctor replied. “There it is again, and there, and there,” he continued, as so many sounds of artillery were distinctly heard. “But here comes the Colonel, perhaps he can enlighten us.”
As Colonel Herbert approached I could see from his manner that something was wrong. Addressing me, he said: