he remainder of the day and night.
Burnside's Ninth Corps passed to "the front" during the afternoon, a
splendid body of veteran troops, whose handsome and popular general was
heartily cheered. He was a large, heavily-built man, and sat his
handsome horse like a prince.

CHAPTER V

THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM

Never did day open more beautiful. We were astir at the first streak of
dawn. We had slept, and soundly too, just where nightfall found us under
the shelter of the hill near Keedysville. No reveille call this morning.
Too close to the enemy. Nor was this needed to arouse us. A simple call
of a sergeant or corporal and every man was instantly awake and alert.
All realized that there was ugly business and plenty of it just ahead.
This was plainly visible in the faces as well as in the nervous, subdued
demeanor of all. The absence of all joking and play and the almost
painful sobriety of action, where jollity had been the rule, was
particularly noticeable.

Before proceeding with the events of the battle, I should speak of the
"night before the battle," of which so much has been said and written.
My diary says that Lieutenant-Colonel Wilcox, Captain James Archbald,
Co. I, and I slept together, sharing our blankets; that it rained during
the night; this fact, with the other, that we were close friends at
home, accounts for our sharing blankets. Three of us with our gum
blankets could so arrange as to keep fairly dry, notwithstanding the
rain.

The camp was ominously still this night. We were not allowed to sing or
make any noise, nor have any fires--except just enough to make
coffee--for fear of attracting the fire of the enemies' batteries. But
there was no need of such an inhibition as to singing or frolicking, for
there was no disposition to indulge in either. Unquestionably, the
problems of the morrow were occupying all breasts. Letters were written
home--many of them "last words"--and quiet talks were had, and promises
made between comrades. Promises providing against the dreaded
possibilities of the morrow. "If the worst happens, Jack." "Yes, Ned,
send word to mother and to----, and these; she will prize them," and so
directions were interchanged that meant so much.

I can never forget the quiet words of Colonel Oakford, as he inquired
very particularly if my roster of the officers and men of the regiment
was complete, for, said he, with a smile, "We shall not all be here
to-morrow night."

Now to r