First came Bull Run.
It was not long after this before we learned what real fighting was. First came ‘Bull Run,’ which awakened us to the realities of war. Here the enemy made a reconnoissance in force, and that night I was sent in command of a detachment of 100 men to picket the ford at which they had attempted a passage. Our mounted scouts were passing and repassing the ford all night, and I did not get ten consecutive minutes of sleep. I would occasionally fall into a doze, but invariably felt myself shaken by one of the guards, and half-awake would catch the whisper, ‘Lieutenant! Lieutenant! They are coming!’ The enemy never materialized, however; the sounds heard usually proceeded from the splashing of the hoofs of a friendly scout's horse in the water on the other side of the stream.The battle of Manassas followed quickly after this little affair on our right. Our regiment was stationed at Lewis' Ford, supporting Latham's Battery, which was masked near the road.
I shall never forget the morning of the day that ushered in that memorable battle. It was a typical summer morning in the ‘Old Dominion.’ The air was perfectly still. Not a leaflet rustled, and the trembling dew-drops hanging from twig and leaf waited to kiss the brows of the soldier boys doomed to die that day—waited for the breath of the zephyr to send them on their errand of love, but [300] waited in vain. Before dawn those who were awake heard a confused and uncertain hum in the direction of Centreville, which ere the day broadly dawned had grown into a mighty rumbling of artillery wheels, rattling of wagons, trains, and din of human voices. How sound travels on such a morning, when the world is waking to life again! I slept that dreamless sleep that only comes to a tired man out beneath the wide sky, breathing the unfettered air on such a summer's night, and awoke refreshed beyond the conception of one who has never enjoyed such a privilege.
Before the sun was up we had our coffee simmering on the fire in tin-cups (we had some coffee in those days), and saluted him as he arose with this delightful libation, and such a sun-rise it was! Altogether it was such a morning as Bagby describes in his ‘Reubenstein.’ He describes a country home with apple trees all in bloom, and says something like this: As the sun rose kissing from blossom and leaf the trembling dew-drop, a little bird 'way down in the orchard awoke and began to trill his matin song. Then another, and another, and another, answered back the first little bird till the world was full of melody, and then the servant gal threw open the blinds in the house, and it was day once more. So, that morning the robin in the oak on the hill, and the red bird in the bottom by the stream, seemed to sing their sweetest for the boys in gray, till old McDowell chimed in with his deep base from the other side, when the feathered songsters quit in disgust.
