The morning wore away and there were no evidences of a renewal of hostilities. About ten o’clock, General Johnson requested me to make a reconnoissance from a hill about three-quarters of a mile in our front. Being perfectly familiar with the country, having hunted over almost every foot of it in my youth, I put spurs to my gallant sorrel, and, making a detour to the right, I after a few minutes rapid riding reached its summit. Here screened from the enemy’s view by an undergrowth of cherry trees, I witnessed a sight I shall ever remember. In front of me, distant about half a mile, was the long ridge leading to cemetery heights, and then cemetery heights themselves. This ridge and the heights were crowned with innumerable batteries of artillery, and immediately in rear of them a long dark mass of infantry, their bayonets glittering in the sun. I was on the ridge which separated the contending armies, and never before upon the eve of battle was I so struck with the advantages one army had over the other in point of position, save at Fredericksburg. In fact the thing was about reversed except in the numbers of assailants. It was almost impossible for us to find position for a single battery on our left or in our centre. The spot upon which I stood was the only one in front of Johnson, and a battery could hardly live here an hour, as was demonstrated that day. For at least twenty minutes I gazed upon the opposite heights, where all seemed life and animation, and then turned my horse’s head and galloped back to where I had left the General, and to whom I made my report. As the coast was clear, in company with Major Latimer, his chief of artillery, he proceeded to the hill, and shortly after ordered up two batteries of artillery, one the Chesapeake artillery, under command of the lamented Captain Brown, of Baltimore.
During the afternoon Colonel Herbert proposed we should visit General Walker, of the Stonewall Brigade, which was in position a short distance to our left, and if possible procure something to eat, as we were suffering very much from hunger, having partaken of no food except the sardines since the morning of the day before. We found the General in pretty much the same predicament, but his Adjutant-General very kindly furnished us with two biscuits apiece, which were thankfully accepted. In the course of the conversation which ensued, mutual surprise was expressed that the attack had not been renewed.
“However,” said Walker, “it is not too late; and I think it possible it will yet be made before nightfall.”
Now these late-in-the-evening fights are the most disagreeable things imaginable, as will readily be conceded by all who have participated in them, and I sincerely hoped the General’s prediction would not be verified. In the first place, you are as liable to shoot and be shot by friend as by foe. Moreover, the inextricable confusion inevitable is unpleasant, for you are more likely to get into the enemy’s lines than keep in your own, and I saw many instances of it that night.
While we were conversing, some of the pickets brought in a prisoner, an ill-favored, brutal looking Dutchman, who had been pounced upon while out foraging. The fellow appeared relieved at the idea of escaping the fight, for drawing a long breath he said:
“Ich been feel mooch besser; I like not mooch fight.”
Upon our inquiring why Hooker had been superceded by Meade, he replied:
“Vat for he let der Lee in Pennsylvany coom?”
The prisoner could not or would not give us any information upon many points we questioned him. He only knew that he belonged to a “Pennsylvany” regiment in the “Oonan” army. So much and no more could his intelligent mind comprehend.
“It is too bad,” exclaimed “Walker, rather excitedly, “to think that such men as we have around us should be butchered by the miserable mercenary devils of which this is a fair specimen. Sometimes I am half inclined to show the wretches no quarter. Take the creature to the rear.”