ed, is exceedingly humiliating,
to say the least of it, and the feelings of such an one can better
be imagined than described. Yet such was the exact condition of
the writer on the evening of October 19th, 1864, at the battle of
Strausburg, or as it is known at the present day among the veterans,
"Early's Stampede."

It is proper to note here that the writer was a line officer belonging
to Company H, Third Regiment South Carolina Volunteers, but several
months previous had been assigned to command a company of "picked"
men made from the various companies and regiments of the old brigade
(Kershaw's), and this company was assigned to duty in the Third
Battalion. This battalion was to do the skirmishing and sharpshooting
for the brigade. This explanation is necessary in order that the
reader may better understand my position and place when captured.

Late in the afternoon of this exciting day General Phil Sheridan
succeeded in rallying his routed columns and led the attack on our
line. Our skirmish line was in excellent condition. We had no trouble
in effectually resisting and driving back the enemy's skirmish line.
When within short range of our rifles we opened fire, and for nearly
half an hour held them in check, while they fairly rained lead into
our ranks. The command "retreat" was given, and we retired, firing.
During the retreat brave Captain Whitener was killed. I rallied the
remnant of my company in rear of the Third South Carolina. General
Kershaw rode rapidly up to where I had rallied what few men I had left
and enquired for Captain Whitener. I replied, "He is killed, General."
He then ordered me to take what few I had and could gather and
double-quick to a point on the extreme left of his division. When
I arrived at the point designated, which was in thick woods, to
my horror I found the place literally alive with Yankees. I
had double-quicked right into the midst of the "blue bellies."
"Surrender," came in tones of thunder. I stood amazed, astonished
beyond conception. "Surrender," again came the command. There was
absolutely no alternative. There was no chance to fight and less
chance to run. My brave boys and I were prisoners of war. This was
one of the consequences of war that I had never figured upon, and was
wholly unprepared for it. I said to the officer who demanded my sword
that I would rather give him my right arm. He preferred the sword and
got one--I had two, having captured one that morning. Just