From the Wilderness the army moved parallel with Grant to Spotsylvania Court House, where we had some desperate fighting. My usual good luck followed me, and I came no nearer being hit than having a solid shot strike the place where my feet had been resting a moment before.

Baffling Grant completely at Cold Harbor, and forcing him to abandon the line on which he had promised to “fight it out if it took all summer,” we found ourselves, early in June, on our way to Petersburg, crossing the river at Drury’s Bluff. We had with us the divisions of Pickett and of Field, and were to move down the Turnpike towards Petersburg, to occupy the lines from which General Beauregard had withdrawn. This was on June 16th. It was a delightful day, and General Anderson and his staff rode on a considerable distance in advance of the troops. There was no more expectation of encountering the enemy than we should have of finding him in the streets of Charleston. When we neared Chester, however, a Major Smith, who was in haste to reach Petersburg, and had gone on ahead, came tearing back “bloody with spurring and fiery red with haste,” and without his hat. We were at a loss to understand what this meant, and he had not breath enough left to tell us at the moment. As soon as he could speak, he said that near the point where the railroad crossed the Turnpike he had seen the Yankees in the woods as thick as bees; and a party of them was then engaged in tearing up the line of railroad which formed the only means of communication between the Confederate capital and Petersburg. He was fired at, but his horse alone was hit; and it was a lucky escape for us. Had we jogged on very much farther we should have found ourselves in the hands of the enemy, who, it seems, had pushed up from Bermuda Hundreds, on finding that the lines in front of them had been vacated, and were about to make good their occupation of the railroad. We halted in the road until the leading regiment of our column came up, when it was deployed in the woods, and advanced until it struck the enemy. The next day an effort was made to recover our lost line; and on the 18th Pickett took it with a rush. Kershaw had gone on to Petersburg. There we had our head-quarters until near the end of June.

Petersburg had changed very much from the quiet, peaceful, drowsy looking city it was when I first knew it. But it was an agreeable place to be in, for one reason at least. During the Wilderness campaign our rations had been reduced to five ounces of bacon and twelve ounces of corn meal daily, and the country was so bare that no additions could be made to our scant fare. At Richmond and Petersburg there was little difficulty in obtaining provisions of every kind, the joke being, however, that housekeepers took their money to market in a basket and brought home in their pockets what they had bought for dinner.

The Petersburgers had accommodated themselves to the changed conditions with curious completeness. Shell frequently fell in or passed over the city, and it was no uncommon thing for old citizens, standing in the street discussing the prospects of the day, to step quietly around a corner until an approaching shell had passed by, and then resume their former place without even suspending their conversation. The basements of houses were used in many instances as bomb-proofs, the traverses being composed of mattresses and bedding.

From Petersburg we went back to the North side of the James River, and on July 28th captured a piece of artillery and some prisoners near the Long Bridge Road.

Early in August General Anderson was summoned to Richmond for consultation with President Davis and General Lee; and on August 7th we took the train for Mitchell Station, where Kershaw’s Division soon arrived, and three days later Fitz Lee’s Cavalry Division came up.

I should mention here that my friend Mr. Raines had suffered a terrible loss. The enemy made a raid through Sussex County and carried off a number of his negroes and nearly the whole of his horses and mules. Fortunately, the raiders feared that they might be cut off if they took the road by Belsches’ Mill-pond to the Plank-road, and they did not pass by Mr. Raines’ residence, which, therefore, was not destroyed. One of my riding horses which I valued very highly was carried off by the cavalry. Mr. Raines and his family were not at home at the time, having gone to Mechlenburg County, where his son-in-law, Dr. Wm. H. Jones, resided. While I was at Petersburg I became very unwell, and our Medical Director, Dr. Cullin, told me that there was only one prescription that he knew of that would cure me quickly, and that was a leave of absence. Leave for fifteen days was given me, and I started off in an ambulance to Sussex. When I reached there I found old Davie, the butler (a counterpart of our own Levy, although considerably older), in charge of the place, and the family absent. This did not daunt me, although I was sadly disappointed. I hired a buggy and went on to Mechlenburg. The plantation of Dr. Jones was near Boydton, and I remained there about two weeks. The family consisted then of Dr. Jones and his wife, the eldest daughter of Mr. Raines, and their little daughter Anna; with Miss Anna Raines and Miss Patty Raines, the daughters of my old friend; and Frank and Nat, his sons. Miss Pinkie Morton and Miss Hattie Morton, nieces of Dr. Jones, and his wards, were also there. The plantation was large and valuable, the principal crop made on it being tobacco of a fine quality. I found at the plantation a thoroughbred Belshazzar colt, which I had bought in Tennessee; a fancy looking cream-colored animal, with a long mane and tail, of which I expected great things. His career was brief, and not particularly glorious. When the Yankees made a raid through Boydton, after General Lee’s surrender, they visited Dr. Jones’ house and carried off my Belshazzar colt. He was loose in the pasture, and they had considerable difficulty in catching him, as he jumped over the fence whenever they got him in a corner. It was only by surrounding him that they caught him at last.

The conduct of the Yankees at Dr. Jones’ was infamous in the extreme. Mrs. Jones was on her death-bed, but the soldiers, after tying Dr. Jones and putting him under guard, forced themselves into her bed-room, and there in her presence broke open her bureau and carried off what valuables they could find. It was well that they did no worse.

The object of our expedition to the Valley, to which I now return, I have never thoroughly understood, but I presume that it was to act in concert with General Early, and do what mischief we could. From Mitchell Station we moved through Culpepper and Flint Hill to Front Royal. The weather was so beautiful that it was hard to believe that we had any serious business before us. An effort was made to obstruct our passage of the Shenandoah, a river which is aptly named, if ever river was. With its clear waters dancing and sparkling in the autumn sun, it deserved its title as “Fair Daughter of the Stars.” Wofford’s Brigade was sent forward to attack the enemy’s cavalry, and, according to our joke at head-quarters, “Wofford swung his right and made a water-haul.” Seriously, he was charged by the enemy, who had driven back our own cavalry, and was compelled to retire with heavy loss. I think that his Ordnance officer was among the killed.

The enemy withdrew, and from Front Royal we marched down the Valley in pursuit. I then realized, as never before, the devastation of war. Columns of smoke were rising in every direction from burning houses and burning barns. Each time that we lighted our pipes that day, it was with the burning embers taken from the ruins of what a few hours before had been a happy home. The brutal Sheridan was carrying out his fell purpose, and was soon in position to boast, ruthless braggart as he is! that “If a crow wants now to fly over the Valley of Virginia, he must carry his rations with him.” It was the penalty that the Virginians of the Valley paid for their devotion to the Confederacy, and, despite their fearful losses, the time never came when a Confederate soldier could not obtain a crust of bread from any Southern family there. They always contrived to have something left, and whatever they had they were ready to share with the ragged and hungry Confederates.

On the march, by the way, there was an exciting incident. General Anderson, with the staff and couriers, was far ahead of the infantry column, and we had a squadron of cavalry as our escort and advance guard. A couple of shots were suddenly fired, and in an instant our cavalry broke and came clattering to the rear. The indignation of General Anderson was painful to see. He cried out to our cavalry: “What manner of men do you call yourselves,” and putting his hand involuntarily to his side, said: “Oh, if I had my sabre!” Turning to his staff and couriers, he said: “Charge those people in front,” pointing to the blue-coated cavalry, who were as much astonished at coming upon us as we were at meeting with them. It was a mutual surprise. The staff with the couriers dashed at the handful of cavalry who had driven in our advance guard, and we had a glorious race down the Turnpike to the suburbs of Winchester. I think we captured four or five Yankees, without any loss on our side, and my share of the plunder was a very good McClellan saddle and a small sum in greenbacks. It was only fair, I suppose, that we should confiscate the greenbacks which we found in the possession of the men we captured, as we expected them to take possession of what money we had whenever we were captured. It is true that Confederate money was not likely to be as useful to them as greenbacks were to us, but it would not have been patriotic to make any distinction between the two currencies. I had paid $5 in Richmond for blacking my boots, and the negro who performed the office would have felt himself well paid if I could have given him instead a ten cent Yankee shin-plaster.

Near Charlestown, on August 26th, the enemy felt our position to some purpose, and captured about one hundred men belonging to the 15th South Carolina Regiment, of Kershaw’s Brigade. Then we marched and counter-marched and danced about in every direction, with no definite object apparently, until September 3d, when we moved out from Winchester, and attacked the enemy near Berryville, and drove him away. It was at this time that the whole command could have been gobbled up. We had only Kershaw’s Division with us, the cavalry having been sent off on a reconnaissance. The enemy, in overwhelming force, came upon us, and General Anderson reached the conclusion that nothing but audacity would save us. Presenting as bold a front as if the whole of the Army of Northern Virginia were with us, and bringing our wagon trains right up to the line of battle, he opened on the enemy with our artillery. To our great surprise and relief the game was successful, and the enemy drew off. General Early arrived the next morning, and his first salutation was: “General Anderson, those Yankees came mighty near getting you yesterday.” General Anderson’s only reply was: “Yes General, and it is not your fault that they did not.” It was a strange business anyway. General Anderson ranked General Early, but did not wish to take command of his troops, as he would necessarily have done had the two commands operated together. The result was that the two commands swung corners and chassÉed in every direction to no good purpose, that any of us could see. It was a delightful sort of military pic-nic, and in that sense everybody enjoyed it.

In September we were ordered back to Culpepper, and the march through the Luray Valley, in delicious weather, put us in excellent spirits. General Anderson said to me one morning, looking up at the blue peaks which were frowning down upon us, that it would be the height of happiness, for him, to lie on the top of one of those mountains all day long and roll rocks down its rugged sides.

The day before we reached Culpepper I found myself very nearly afoot. Two of my horses were missing, and so was my servant, Aleck. This boy had been with me from the time that I returned from Fort Delaware, and was as faithful a servant as one could desire to have. He had charge of my clothes, and generally kept my purse. No one could have been more conscientious and trustworthy than he appeared to be; but he was gone this time, and so were the horses. Taking one of the couriers, an Alabamian, named Spencer (who was afterwards appointed Aide-de-Camp to Colonel Sorrell, when that officer was promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General), I rode back in pursuit of the runaway. For two days and nights we kept on his trail, but were unable to overtake him, and as we were uncomfortably near the main body of the enemy’s troops, we returned to Culpepper, finding that our people had reached that place just in time to drive off a raiding party which had pounced down upon the village. Long afterwards I met Aleck in Petersburg, and asked him what he meant by stealing my horses. He grinned and said: “Mas’r Frank, I didn’t go for teef dem horse, but dere was a gal back dere in Winchester I was bound to see, and when I git dere de Yankee tek my horse and I couldn’t git away again.” This excuse served as well as any would have done.

Kershaw’s Division was sent back to reinforce Early, and we went on to Richmond and thence to Swift Run, between Richmond and Petersburg.