The morning of February 5th found our camp in a bustle of preparation. We had orders to march, leaving our tents "in statu quo," taking only overcoats, arms, and haversacks. General Warren was mounted on his old gray horse. This we regarded as a sure sign that a fight was on the programme. The column headed toward the left. Then we knew that Warren had done well to mount the old gray. A tender spot of the Confederacy lay in that direction. The "Southside Railroad" was the main artery that carried life-blood to the rebel army, and was guarded with jealous care.

The morning was bright, crisp, and frosty. The men were in excellent spirits. We had with us a number of waggish fellows that would be the life of any company, jovial, hearty, able to bring forth a joke under the most forbidding circumstances. One of these (Smith let us call him) had served eight years in the regular army before the rebellion, and had been in the volunteer service during the entire war. He was a sturdy, big-hearted fellow, now becoming somewhat gray with years. His favorite word was "Woo-haw," which he pressed into service quite frequently. From this we called him "Old Woo-haw."

Some time in the forenoon we found the enemy intrenched at Rowanty Creek, just below the junction of Gravelly Run and Hatcher's Run. From a slight ridge about three hundred yards back, open ground sloped down to the run, where there were a few small trees on the bank, which sloped abruptly to the water. The stream was perhaps fifteen feet wide. On the other side the ground rose again as abruptly as on the side next to us; and on the bank were the rebel rifle-pits, this side of the stream being also covered with woods. It was not more than twenty-five or thirty yards from the side of the stream on which we were approaching to the pits beyond.

At this time I was armed with a Springfield rifle, muzzle-loader, while the rest had the Spencer. I never professed to have a natural appetite for cold lead, broken bones, etc., and very much disliked to go into a skirmish with a "long Tom." However, there was no help for it. The sharp crack of carbines showed that the cavalry had met with stubborn resistance. At the first halt after we heard firing, I loaded her up and was ready.

As the head of the regiment reached the ridge, we halted. The cavalry were keeping up a lively fire just ahead and on the right, and there was every prospect of an interesting time. Very soon we were ordered forward to skirmish. As the order was received, Smith remarked, with a peculiar twang to his heavy voice and an odd twist of his head:

"Now, boys, the woo-hawin' is a-goin' to begin."

We followed the road over the ridge, and filed to the right on a farm-road which led in this direction. As we filed right Colonel Pattee's voice rang out:

"Deploy, skirmishers!"

We came around the corner on a run, and as the order was given the men faced toward the enemy, and advanced as they deployed. Before the rear of the regiment had left the main road, the rest were charging down through the open field. They looked like a mob as they broke ranks and went pell-mell over the field, yelling like madmen. But there was method in their disorder, and before they had passed over half the distance they were in as good position as if they had gone about it in the most formal manner. It was a reckless movement; but the officers were not responsible for it, as no order was given except to deploy.

Reaching the stream, we found it covered with ice, on which we hoped to cross. One of the foremost boys stepped upon it, and it at once gave way, and let him into the water. Just the top of his head stuck out above the fragments of ice. He was fished out as expeditiously as possible, and the idea of crossing in that way was abandoned. Men came down with axes, and proceeded to fell trees across the run on which to cross. While this was going on, we did our best to keep the rebels down behind their works, and render their fire ineffectual. We soon succeeded in this, but not until they had inflicted some loss. Sullivan was standing a little below me, when a bullet clipped by his left hip, cutting his pants about three inches, but doing no harm. A ball touched my hand as I was capping my gun. Others struck close around. Soon the trees were down, and part of the men crossed, while others kept careful watch on the rebels, and fired rapidly to keep them down. When enough had crossed, perhaps forty or fifty, then every body yelled, and those who had crossed charged the pits, and the rest came crowding over. Some of the rebels surrendered, and a few escaped. As the final charge was made, the line of battle came down, reaching the run just in time to lose some men. There may have been some reason unknown to us for bringing them down; but as far as we could see, it was a mistake. Our loss was fifteen wounded and one or two killed.

The losses of a regiment do not always show its courage nor its effectiveness as a military organization, but rather its lack of discipline, and unskillful handling. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was composed of well-trained, veteran soldiers, and had good officers. This fight shows how such a regiment may incur serious disaster without room for just reflection on the skill, courage, or discipline of men or officers. Had a much stronger force been behind those works, situated as they were, our heedless charge would have resulted in a bloody repulse, unless speedily supported by a charge from the line of battle, which would have involved heavy loss.

The road which we had followed is called the stage-road. Crossing the run, we followed it in the direction of Dinwiddie Court House, until we reached the Quaker road. The enemy was not encountered in our front, but farther to the right there was severe fighting along Hatcher's Run. During the night we moved to a position near Dabney's Mill. I think we followed the Vaughan road. In crossing Gravelly Run, there was some delay in getting the column over. After we had reached the other side, and were waiting for the others, a colonel offended one of the men of Company A, ordering him away from a fire by which the colonel was standing. This called forth some of the liveliest sort of vituperation. Such combinations of opprobrious epithets are rarely exhibited. That man's relatives, near and remote, male and female, were brought into requisition to define the exquisite meanness of his nature and origin. The discomfited nabob appealed to Colonel Pattee for redress, who sent Adjutant Wright back to quiet the boys.During the day we moved out from our position near the run, into the woods in front, and formed line of battle. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was in the line. The day was dismal. Rain and snow had fallen during the preceding night, and now it was growing colder. Our line advanced over ground partly swampy. In maneuvering to pass one of these difficult places, the Two Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania was massed behind us, and came crowding close after. Some of the men would break through the crust of ice, and sink into the mud beneath. Among others, George Dunn, notwithstanding the size of his feet, went plunging in, half-way to his knee. When the foot was withdrawn, it was found that the shoe had been left in the depths below. George hesitated, thinking, perhaps, to attempt a rescue; but it was too late. The Two Hundred and Tenth, coming on in close divisions, trampled it down beyond all hope of recovery. Advancing some distance, the line halted. The formation of the Second Division must have been imperfect, on account of the nature of the ground. This probably caused the delay.

On the right a severe engagement was in progress, and in front was some skirmishing. The men, as usual with them when placed in line of battle, were uneasy and dissatisfied. Soon they began to go out, one at a time, then by twos and threes, toward the front. No objection was made by the officers, until the line began to grow thin. A little later, part of the line became engaged; but, as the right of the corps had been checked, we were soon withdrawn, and took a position not far from the run, where we intrenched and held the ground. Here we were on the left, where our line rested on the run. We were considerably annoyed by shells, which came nearly from our rear. Our pits faced down the run, and afforded no protection from shells coming from the enemy's position at our right.

On the morning of the 8th we had orders to "fall in," and soon we were in line, ready to move. Passing to the right a short distance, we halted, at a gap in the rifle-pits, where a road led out to the front; I think it was the Vaughan Road. Soon an aid rode up to Colonel Pattee with orders. Some one inquired, of those standing nearest the colonel, what the orders were. One of them replied, with the utmost seriousness:"The orders are for the One Hundred and Ninetieth to report in —— in less than ten minutes."

We passed out on this road some distance, and then bore to the right, over ground strewn with dead horses, that had been killed during the cavalry fighting of the preceding days. After advancing about a mile, we halted in open ground, and formed line of battle. On our right, and some distance in front, was timber. We hastily intrenched, for this purpose tearing down a house. We judged that the enemy would not let us remain long undisturbed; nor were we mistaken. Through the still, frosty air we heard the sound of preparation. We could hear the officers giving orders, and the snapping of caps as they prepared to load. Their line of battle extended far past our left, and a line was evidently preparing to come down on our right flank. We threw up pits on each flank, and waited, uncertain of the result. We knew of no arrangement to prevent our being overwhelmed by numbers. This suspense continued for some time, and we expected every moment that the vengeful storm would burst upon us. But now an aid was seen galloping toward us, and we were ordered to withdraw from our exposed position. We lost no time in regaining the works we had left in the morning. What this little side show was for, we could not imagine. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding.

The same day we recrossed Hatcher's Run, and began the construction of permanent works on that side. We worked by reliefs, three hours on duty and three off. We had run out of provisions, and a fresh supply failed to arrive. The men became dissatisfied, and finally refused to work. Threats of compelling them to work were made. The men answered by gathering up their guns and starting for the woods, in the rear. At this point General Warren came down and spoke to the men in a reasonable manner. The mere fact of his coming among them had a good effect on the men. He urged the necessity of the work, and told them that if provisions were not on hand by a given time, he would consent to their ceasing from work. The men then went to work cheerfully.

Jack M'Bride and myself had previously solved, in a measure, the difficult problem of reconciling the conflicting claims of an empty stomach and the vigorous prosecution of the war. As night came on, we retired some distance into the woods, built a fire, and made ourselves comfortable. The next morning we found a piece of pork, which had been lost or thrown away three or four days before. It was good. We scraped the mud from it carefully, and ate it with a relish. We then came back and went to work with the rest.

After these works had been completed, we moved some distance down Hatcher's Run, to a small branch of that stream, called Arthur's Creek. Our position was on the left flank of the army, facing rather toward the rear. For the third time this winter we built winter-quarters. Our camp was pleasantly located, fronting a large farm, in the rear woods. Brigade and division headquarters were in the woods, our picket-line in the open ground beyond the farm-house, a mile from camp.

On the 7th of February, the next day after the fight near Dabney's Mill, I got a Spencer rifle, and kept it until we were mustered out. The spiral spring of the magazine was damaged in some way, so that it would receive only four or five cartridges, instead of seven. I repaired it by taking the spring out entirely. It would then receive nine or ten, and a little practice made the experiment a success.

Duty was light, and our main business was amusing ourselves. For in-door amusement, euchre was the favorite. There was not much gambling, but many fine points were settled by "best three out of five." One form of out-door amusement was the following: A peg was driven into the ground, and to this were fastened two ropes, fifteen or twenty feet long. Two men were then blindfolded, and placed one at the end of each rope, on opposite sides of the peg. To one was given a notched stick, about two feet long; and also another, to rub over it, making a scraping sound. He was called the "scraper." To the other was given a pant-leg, or something of this kind, stuffed with paper or rags. He was called the "pounder," and it was his business to "pound" the scraper, if he could. They were each required to keep hold of his rope. The boys would sometimes stand around a circle of this kind by the hour, and watch the fun. The two would move about with catlike caution, each listening for the other. Sometimes the pounder would think he had the other, sure; and, listening most earnestly, anticipated triumph shining from his face, he would bring his weapon down on nothing. Again, the scraper, thinking the pounder, who was right beside him, was far away, would rest the end of his notched stick on the ground, and draw the other along it, "scrape-scrape," when down would come the pant-leg on his head, followed by shouts of laughter from the audience.

The soldiers built a large tent for religious meetings, and a revival of extraordinary interest took place during our stay here. The noble Christian young men who did this work remember those meetings with satisfaction now, whether they are on earth or in heaven. They conducted them without the aid of a minister. No! they themselves were ministers of God, anointed from on high for this work.

Some of the conversions were remarkable. One young man, whom I had known as a brave, fearless fellow, was converted during a meeting of peculiar power. The change was plain and evident to all. His handsome face was continually bright with the peace of God. He fell in battle, March 31st, and died in the arms of his comrades, who were trying to carry him back when our line was broken and routed.

As Spring drew near came the reviews and various movements that indicate the approach of active operations. Some changes were made in the brigade. It now consisted of the fragments of three Pennsylvania regiments, the One Hundred and Ninetieth, One Hundred and Ninety-first, and One Hundred and Fifty-seventh; two Delaware regiments, now consolidated into one, and the Two Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania. The latter was a one-year regiment, and almost as large as the rest of the brigade. They were a fine body of men, reliable and well-drilled. There were but five commissioned officers in the One Hundred and Ninetieth. Colonel Pattee and Adjutant Wright, Captain Birkman, Lieutenants Coleman and Peacock. Captain Birkman had charge of Companies A, B, and C. The One Hundred and Ninetieth and One Hundred and Ninety-first acted together as one regiment, under command of Colonel Pattee. The fragment of the One Hundred and Fifty-seventh—not more than forty or fifty men—was regarded as a part of the One Hundred and Ninety-first.We held this little band in high esteem. They were heroes, every man of them. Captain Carter was in command. We were the Third Brigade, Second Division, Fifth Corps.