t been promoted to that position. The New York
battery had been with us but a short time, but Captain Martin and his
lieutenants ranked among the best artillery officers in the service.

For a few days, only, I had been in command of the brigade. General
Custer, who had led it from the time he was made a brigadier, in June,
1863, was promoted to the command of the Third division and, hastily
summoning me, went away, taking his staff and colors with him. I was
obliged while yet on the march, to form a staff of officers as
inexperienced as myself. It was an unsought and an unwelcome
responsibility.

For two or three days before the battle, our duty had been to guard a
ford of Cedar Creek. One regiment was kept constantly on duty near the
ford. The line of videttes was thrown out across the stream, connecting
on the left with the infantry picket line and on the right with Custer's
cavalry pickets. The Seventh Michigan was on duty the night of October
18, the brigade camp back about a mile from the ford.

No intimation of expected danger had been received--no injunction to be
more than usually alert. It was the habit of the cavalry, which had so
much outpost duty to perform, to be always ready, and cavalry officers
were rarely taken by surprise. Early's precautions had been carefully
taken and no hint of his purpose reached the union headquarters, and no
warning of any immediate or more than usually pressing danger was given
to the army.

But, somehow, I had a vague feeling of uneasiness, that would not be
shaken off. I believe now and have believed, for many years, that there
was in my mind a distinct presentiment of the coming storm. I could not
sleep and at eleven o'clock, was still walking about outside the tents.

It was a perfect night, bright and clear. The moon was full, the air
crisp and transparent. A more serene and peaceful scene could not be
imagined. The spirit of tranquility seemed to have settled down, at
last, upon the troubled Shenandoah. Far away, to the left, lay the army,
wrapped in slumber. To the right, the outlines of the Blue mountains
stood out against the sky and cast dark shadows athwart the valley.
Three-quarters of a mile away the white tents of Custer's camp looked
like weird specters in the moonlight. Scarcely a sound was heard. A
solemn stillness reigned, broken only by the tread of the single sentry,
pacing his beat in front of headquarters. Inside, the staff and brigade
escort were sl