places. An hour after dark we
took up the line of march, and from our camp to the river, a distance
of one mile or less, beat anything in the way of marching that human
nature ever experienced. The dust that had accumulated by the armies
passing over on their march to Gettysburg was now a perfect bog, while
the horses and vehicles sinking in the soft earth made the road appear
bottomless. We would march two or three steps, then halt for a moment
or two; then a few steps more, and again the few minutes' wait. The
men had to keep their hands on the backs of their file leaders to tell
when to move and when to halt. The night being so dark and rainy, we
could not see farther than "the noses on our faces," while at every
step we went nearly up to our knees in slash and mud. Men would stand
and sleep--would march (if this could be called marching) and sleep.
The soldiers could not fall out of ranks for fear of being hopelessly
lost, as troops of different corps and divisions would at times be
mingled together. Thus we would be for one hour moving the distance
of a hundred paces, and any soldier who has ever had to undergo such
marching, can well understand its laboriousness. At daybreak we
could see in the gloomy twilight our former camp, almost in hollering
distance. Just as the sun began to peep up from over the eastern
hills, we came in sight of the rude pontoon bridge, lined from one end
to the other with hurrying wagons and artillery--the troops at opened
ranks on either side. If it had been fatiguing on the troops, what
must it have been on the poor horses and mules that had fasted for
days and now drawing great trains, with roads almost bottomless? It
was with a mingled feeling of delight and relief that the soldiers
reached the Virginia side of the river--but not a murmur or harsh word
for our beloved commander--all felt that he had done what was best for
our country, and it was more in sorrow and sympathy that we beheld his
bowed head and grief-stricken face as he rode at times past the moving
troops.

General Pettigrew had the post of rear guard. He, with his brave
troops, beat back the charge after charge of Kirkpatrick's Cavalry as
they attempted to destroy our rear forces. It was a trying time to
the retreating soldiers, who had passed over the river to hear their
comrades fighting, single-handed and alone, for our safety and their
very existence, without any hope of aid or succor. They knew they
were left to be