e of the hen-house, whose right
was supposed to rest on the left of the Iron Brigade, the Irishman who
commanded the ravine. Then I turned my attention to the left of the
battle-field, placed one man at the milk-house, with his left resting on
the right of the Irishman, and a man at the smoke-house. This left three
men, one of whom I appointed an aid de camp, one an orderly and the
other I held as a reserve, at a cotton gin. When I had got my army into
position, I sat under a tree and reflected a little, and concluded that
the Iron Brigade was in rather too exposed a position, so I sent my aid
de camp to order the Iron Brigade to move forward, under cover of the
ravine, and take a position behind a mule-shed. The aide soon returned
and reported that the Iron Brigade had taken off his shirt and kanoodled
a negro woman to wash it for him, and would not be able to move until
the shirt was dry.

This altered my plans a little, but I was equal to the emergency, and
ordered my reserve to make a detour and take the mule-shed, and hold it
until relieved by the Iron Brigade, which would be as soon as his shirt
was dry, and then to report to me on the field. Then I took my aide and
orderly, and galloped around the lines, to see that all was right. I
found that the First Division, holding the gate of the hen-house, was
well in hand, though he had killed five chickens, and had them strapped
on his saddle, and was trying to cut off the head of another with his
sabre. He said he thought I said to let no guilty hen escape. I found
the Iron Brigade dismounted, his shirt hung on a line to dry, and the
colored woman had been pressed into the Federal service, and was frying
a chicken for the Brigade. I told him to get his shirt on as soon as it
was dry, and move by forced marches, to relieve the force holding the
mule-shed, and the Iron Brigade said he would as soon as he had his
dinner. I found the Division composed of the Dutchman, stubbornly
holding the sweet-potato field, and he was eating some boiled ham and
corn-bread he had sent the nigger to the house after, and he had a
bushel of sweet-potatoes in a sack strapped to his saddle. The force
at the milk-house had a fine position, and gave me a pitcher of
butter-milk, which I drank with great gusto. I do not know as there is
anything in butter-milk that is stimulating, but after drinking it
my head seemed clearer, and I could see the whole battle-field, and
anticipate each movement I