Everything was very quiet in camp after the “cattle raid” until the 27th of September, when the eager longing of the “Ash by Brigade” to go home was gratified, and General Rosser, in a beautifully touching General Order, in which he reviewed the past campaign and paid eloquent tributes to the fallen members of the command, announced that he was ordered to proceed immediately to the Valley, and the brigade marched out for the “promised land” again.

Colonel White had obtained a furlough, or rather a sick leave, and Captain Myers commanded the “Comanches.” The season was the most pleasant of the whole year, and the line of march was through a beautiful (in part, a grandly magnificent) country, and notwithstanding the unfavorable news from General Early’s department, the “Laurel Brigade” moved with joyous hearts towards “their own country.”

A journal of the march will tell best of its pleasures, and it is inserted for the benefit of the men who made it.

Tuesday, September 27th.—Bade (we hope) a long farewell to the “Old Virginia lowlands, low,” and turned our faces towards the grand old mountain-bound Valley of the Shenandoah, and everybody is glad.

September 28th.—Passed Blacks-and-Whites and Burksville Junction; camped sixty miles from Lynchburg.

September 29th.—Marched through Prince Edward by the C. H. and camped in Charlotte county, thirty miles from Lynchburg. The people down here reckon all distances “from Lynchburg.”

September 30th.—Marched at 9-1/2 A. M. into Campbell county, and camped three miles from Lynchburg among the bushes; weather delightful and news from Valley more so, for they say Early has whipped the Yankees.

October 1st.—Passed the great “Tobacco city,” a dingy old town; crossed the James on a dilapidated bridge and took the road to Lexington; raining all day.

October 2d.—Marching all day through the mountains, along the James river and canal, and it is worth a whole year of life to ride for the first time through this wildly picturesque country, but for the men who love the mountains as we do, and have not so much as seen them for five months, it is more than glorious to find ourselves in their very heart.

October 3d.—Still in the blessed old Blue Ridge, but passed Lexington about 1 o’clock P. M. and camped near Fairfield; raining very hard.

October 4th.—Passed Fairfield, Midway and Greenville; camped on the famous Valley pike, seven miles from Staunton.

October 5.—Marched through Staunton to Augusta Church and turned to the left; encamped near Bridgewater; General Rosser is a Major General, with Wickham’s, Lomax’s and the old Ashby brigades; says he is going to “run over everything in the Valley.” This country is very different from the "land o’ cakes and brither Scots" we used to find it; for since we were here it has been roughly handled, but we get plenty of good water and pure air, and see the mountains just as they have stood from the beginning, and that is satisfaction enough.

On the 6th of October, before daylight, it was ascertained that Sheridan was retreating and Gen. Rosser immediately started with his division in pursuit, pressing as rapidly as possible to the front, but the scene was horrifying, for with the infernal instincts of his worse than savage nature, the merciless fiend, Sheridan, was disgracing the humanity of any age and visiting the Valley with a baptism of fire, in which was swept away the bread of the old men and women and children of that weeping land.

On every side, from mountain to mountain, the flames from all the barns, mills, grain and hay stacks, and in very many instances from dwellings, too, were blazing skyward, leaving a smoky trail of desolation to mark the footsteps of the devil’s inspector-general, and show in a fiery record, that will last as long as the war is remembered, that the United States, under the government of Satan and Lincoln, sent Phil. Sheridan to campaign in the Valley of Virginia.

Rosser’s men tried hard to overtake them, and did capture a few, who lingered to make sure work of a mill near New Market, but they were instantly shot, and when night came the troops encamped near Brock’s Gap, in a position where, all through the dark, they could see the work of the “journeymen of desolation” still progressing.

Early next morning the advance was continued, and about 2 o’clock the fire-fiends were overtaken at Mount Clifton, on Mill Creek, above Mount Jackson, and so strongly posted at the fords, that Rosser ordered Col. Dulaney to cross the creek some distance to the right, and with Hatcher’s squadron of the 7th Va. Cavalry and White’s battalion, attack them in flank, in order that they might be forced to uncover the ford.

The crossing was effected without difficulty, but after marching up the stream about half a mile, Capt. Hatcher met a force of the Yankees coming down, and with his usual game he charged and drove them in confusion towards Cedar Creek, and shortly after, the battalion reached the top of a hill overlooking the ford and open fields adjoining, where the Yankees were prepared to dispute Rosser’s progress until they could get their wagons, and great droves of cattle and sheep which they were driving with them down the Valley, clear.

Col. Dulaney halted the battalion on the crest of the hill, and the Yankees, perceiving it, commenced a brisk fire with Spencer and Henry rifles, and at the same moment, what was afterward found to be Custer’s brigade, began to form on a hill just opposite, in a field that sloped gradually down to the road in which White’s men were standing. The fire became too hot for comfort, and Capt. Myers rode up to Col. Dulaney, who was coolly watching the Yankees, and said to him, “Colonel, give us orders, and let us do something quick;” but the Colonel only replied, “Be cautious;” and the Captain thinking that he had not been understood, as the Colonel was somewhat deaf, repeated his request for orders, but received the same reply, and knowing that his men could not remain in that position a minute longer, Myers gave the order to charge, which was performed in the most brilliant style. There was a plank fence to open before getting into the field, and here the long-range guns, which had been forced upon the men some time before, were thrown away, and the “Comanches,” numbering now less than two hundred, passed the fence, and were within one hundred yards of three of Custer’s regiments, one of which was in line and the other two rapidly forming; but no halt was intended or attempted, and in a very brief space the battalion was among the Yankees, neutralizing their superiority in numbers and carbines by a very free use of their pistols and sabres. The enemy stood quiet until their assailants had gotten in ten steps, when they broke up in great confusion; and Gen. Rosser, at the moment, rushed the 11th and 12th, regiments over, which completed the business, and the Yankees fled in utter rout, losing many men killed, wounded and captured, and all their trains and stock. The battalion had several men wounded, among them Captain Myers, but none were killed or very badly hurt.

Captain Hatcher had fought heavily on the right and also lost heavily, but he pushed the retreating Yankees until dark.

The command of White’s Battalion now fell upon Lieutenant Nich. Dorsey, Company B, and moved with the brigade to a position on the “middle road,” at a stream known as Tom’s brook, where the division halted on the evening of the 8th, and Lieutenant Dorsey was ordered on picket with his battalion during the night. Very early in the morning (9th) the Yankee sharpshooters made their appearance and some very sharp skirmishing was engaged in, the men with carbines being sent to the front under command of Lieutenant Chiswell, who, with forty men, held a line more than a quarter of a mile in length for more than an hour, but finally the 12th regiment on his right was driven back, at the same moment a column of the enemy charged up a road to the left, and being thus outflanked on both wings, Lieutenant Chiswell and his men had to make a run for it on foot, barely escaping capture by the Yankees, who pressed them very hotly, and but for a gallant charge of the mounted men, led by Captain Dowdell, who had just arrived and taken command a few minutes before, these sharpshooters would have been captured.

The Yankee force in the road was driven back for two hundred yards, but the flank firing compelled the battalion to retire, and now the whole Confederate line, from the Valley pike to the back road, gave way, and what had before been a boasting advance of Rosser’s men, turned into a shameful rout and stampede which continued for several miles, although only a comparatively small force of the enemy pursued. The battalion lost severely in wounded, among whom was Orderly Sergeant Thomas S. Grubb, of Company A, who was mortally wounded, and died one week afterwards.

He was one of the first to join the old company and no more faithful soldier, or honest, conscientious Christian gentleman ever lived to defend the stars and bars, or died to consecrate its memory.

When the lines commenced to give way the artillery of Captain Thompson was firing rapidly upon the advancing columns of the enemy, and made desperate efforts to check the Yankees long enough to give Rosser a chance to rally his people, but nothing could bring anything like order out of the confused mass of fugitives that fled so wildly from the field. They had been flanked, and without seeing more than the skirmish line of the enemy, gave way to a panic that increased each moment, and unaccountable as such things were, every soldier knows that it only requires a shout in the rear to keep a stampeded force on the run, and it was so now, for the author saw fully six hundred veteran Confederate troops flying madly along the “back road” with no pursuers but about thirty Yankees who were afraid to ride closer than a mile to the demoralized crowd in their front, and in this miserable retreat the gallant Thompson lost his guns, but he held them until the main body of the enemy was around him. Every wagon and ambulance that Rosser had brought down with him, and every piece of artillery, fell into the Yankees’ hands. And on this subject General Imboden got off a rather sharp specimen of satire at the expense of Gen. Rosser. At the opening of the campaign in the Wilderness in May, the brigade of Rosser had been highly complimented by Generals Lee and Stuart for its desperately gallant fighting, and General Rosser had christened it the “Laurel Brigade,” in a General Order, which prescribed that the battle-flags should be trimmed with laurel and the members should wear a badge of three or five leaves of laurel. The brigade of Gen. Imboden had made a very poor reputation for fighting, simply because it had not been in a situation where much could be accomplished, as the enemy’s cavalry in the Valley was all the time in vastly superior force, and well handled.

When Rosser’s men were going down the Valley they flourished their laurels proudly, and declared they were going to whip the Yankees and then chase Imboden’s brigade to the mountains.

On the day of the stampede, when Rosser lost all his artillery, the Yankees made an advance on Imboden in the Page Valley, who drove them back and captured two guns, after which he sent his compliments to Gen. Rosser, with a polite request to know how he would “trade laurels for artillery.” The “Laurel Brigade” shouted “Bully for Imboden,” and they never said any more about “chasing him into the mountains.”

After the stampede, the Yankees went back towards Winchester, and for ten days nothing was done but picket and scout, but on the 19th Gen. Early made his advance on the enemy, in which he surprised and routed Sheridan’s army, capturing a great quantity of artillery, arms and camp equipage, with many prisoners; and was himself surprised, his army routed, his artillery captured, and his wagon train destroyed, all in one and the same day, constituting one of the most remarkable cases on record, and the only one that ever occurred in the war, where a Yankee army, after being routed, returned the same day and inflicted a loss on its foe.

In this affair Gen. Rosser operated along the “back road,” to Early’s left, and succeeded in whipping the Yankee cavalry there, with small loss in men to himself.

White’s Battalion was engaged in skirmishing, but the enemy did not press their right wing forward until Early had been driven on the turnpike, and when that was known, Rosser retired also.

The battalion was engaged in no special service of much consequence, for some time after the battle, and it was, in fact, hardly a good squadron, so many of the men being absent, some on detail to procure fresh horses, some on furlough, and many on sick leave, while others again were absent without leave; but they were the lucky ones who always avoided the fights, kept clear of camp duty and court-martial, and yet had a reputation as soldiers, were doted on by the ladies, and could make eloquent parlor speeches about their devotion to the “Sunny South,” and tell of daring deeds performed by themselves, which, like themselves, possessed but one thing upon which the listener could rely, and that one thing was falsehood.

About the 1st of November Col. White took his battalion to Loudoun, and for several days was engaged in collecting cattle and sending them to the army, an operation which he also performed in the counties of Fauquier and Rappahannock, by which means the scarcity in the Valley was counterbalanced and the troops furnished with meat.

The brigade was now commanded by Col. O. R. Funsten, of the 11th, Col. Dulaney having been severely wounded in the stampede on the 9th, and there was great interest taken in the question as to who was to be Brigadier, many of the men expressing their preference for Col. White, but, as before stated, he was not enough of a disciplinarian for Gen. Lee.

The following letter of recommendation to President Davis, in his favor, shows that his merit was appreciated by the great men of Virginia:

The battalion arrived in camp, eight miles above New Market, on the 19th, and the next day marched down the pike with the brigade to meet the enemy, who had advanced in force as far as Rood’s Hill, but only staid long enough for a slight skirmish with the Confederates, and retired to Strasburg, after which White’s “people” were ordered on picket, and remained at this duty until the 24th, when they returned to camp only to prepare for a raid into the mountains.

On the morning of the 26th of November Gen. Rosser marched with two brigades, his own and Gen. Paine’s, towards West Virginia, passing through Brock’s Gap, and camping at Matthias’, on Lost river, a place well-remembered as being the first night’s bivouac of every expedition to that country, and the next morning the march was continued all day and night, when about 9 o’clock A. M. of the 28th the column advanced upon the forts at New Creek Station on the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road.

There was a strong force, of all arms, at this place, but the General conducted everything so rapidly that almost before they knew it he had surprised the fort where the infantry were stationed, making prisoners of the garrison, and capturing all the artillery. A charge was then made upon the Station, and all the horses of the cavalry and artillery taken at the first dash, besides a number of prisoners, but the greater portion of the Yankees, who were outside of the fort, crossed the Rail Road bridge and escaped into the mountains.

A large quantity of stores of all kinds fell into the hands of the raiders, and they were busily employed in securing them when a tremendous firing was heard near by, causing almost a panic, but it was soon learned that the depot building had been set on fire and the flames had reached about fifteen thousand rounds of fixed ammunition for artillery that had been stored there, which caused a sound very much like as if a heavy cannonade had opened in that quarter.

As soon as everything was attended to the Division set out for the Valley again, having destroyed the Rail Road for some distance, captured about six hundred prisoners, seven pieces of artillery, over a thousand horses and mules, and secured a large quantity of plunder of all sorts, making it a highly successful raid, without the loss of a man on the Confederate side, as the enemy were pushed so close that they did not fire a gun.

The return was effected without difficulty, and the camp reached on the 2d of December, where all remained quiet until the 15th, when Colonel White started with the battalion for an independent raid among the Swamp-Dragons of Western Virginia.

The weather was very cold, the ground covered with snow, and both men and horses were badly prepared for such an expedition, nor could anybody form an idea of what it was intended to accomplish, and as a consequence the “Comanches” were rather savage at the prospect of a useless winter campaign among the mountains, and in order to get any the company officers were obliged to take all the men in camp, who had horses lit to travel at all, which broke seriously into the wagon-train escort, and left Co. “Q” with a small force.

Marching by Moorfield the Colonel halted opposite Petersburg, where he was joined by the Company of the famous Capt. McNeill, of the Moorfield Valley, and by Captains Woodson and Kirkendall, with their companies, from the brigade, but all did not make his force more than three hundred men.

The 18th was a rainy day, and the Colonel permitted the regiment to lie in camp, but the camp was not more comfortable than the march. About noon Henry Simpson, sometimes called the “reckless babe,” started with three or four men to visit a shooting-match which some citizens had told him of, and where it was supposed that some of the “Swamps” could be found, but getting lost in the mountains they brought up at a cabin where some of the aforesaid “Swamps” were visiting. Henry and his party forced them to surrender, after which, by blowing a horn, yelling, firing, and other equally characteristic operations, they induced the people in the neighborhood to believe that they were the crazy advance guard of an army of lunatics about to be turned loose upon the country, and securing whatever of rations they wanted, the scouts returned with their prisoners to camp without being molested by the “Dragons,” a performance which no other man than Henry Simpson could have accomplished.

The command marched out the next morning on the Franklin grade, and during the day were fired at frequently, but at too great a distance to do any harm; however, about noon a party of them came too near, and were attacked by Mobberly, who killed one and chased the others into the mountains, as he said, “as far as the devil went,” and being asked how far that was, he replied, “as far as he could get for the rocks.”

These “Swamp Dragons” were a different people from the “bushwhackers,” the latter being only citizens armed with their sporting guns, while the former were a sort of home organization, armed by the United States, and who operated just as the Highland outlaws of Scotland, in former days did, by coming in forays upon the citizens in the low country, and appropriating whatever of their property they pleased to their own use, supplying themselves and families with bacon, beef, corn and flour from the defenseless inhabitants, and if the latter objected to this blackmail proceeding or attempted to follow their plunderers, they were unhesitatingly shot by the “Swamp Dragons.” Whether or not they were in the pay of the Government for such work as this, I do not know, but there is no question of the fact that the United States furnished them uniforms, arms and ammunition.

The road led by the house of a man named Bond, who was a Captain among the Dragons, and on approaching it, the Confederates discovered his Company on the side of the mountain, about a mile distant, and from their appearance, the Colonel judged that they would attack him, but after waiting on them awhile, he gave Mobberly permission to make another charge, and the Dragons scattered, soon disappearing entirely, when the command moved forward once more; but Captain Bond had no reason to complain that the Scripture law of “What measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again,” had not been fulfilled, for White’s people took everything about the premises they wanted, and if the whole truth must be told, a good many that they didn’t want, as they passed his residence.

The command halted for the night near the town of Franklin, and in the morning the extra Companies left the battalion; McNeil to return to Moorfield, and Woodson and Kirkendall to go on toward the Valley, by way of Monterey, while White, with his people, turned short to the right, and climbed into the Alleghany mountains, at a point where a tributary stream, to the South Branch of Potomac, cut close along the base of the main mountain, and leaving only a narrow path, up a perpendicular wall of rock that rose a hundred yards in height from the water. Along the right bank of the stream was a little cove of flat land, completely hemmed in by the mountain, and where the Colonel decided to make some investigation of the business of the Swamp Dragons, sending Capt. Myers with a party, at the same time, up this mule path, to gain the overhanging mountain top and keep the “Swamps” from getting the position on him, for if one hundred men had been stationed on the top of the precipice, they could, with stones, have whipped a thousand down in the cove.

On reaching the top, Myers sent Jack Dove, Henry Simpson, John Stephenson, and two or three others, down a road towards some houses, while with half a dozen others he struck out for a scout to the southward, and after going about two miles, came to some cabins where there were only women, but they told the scouts that their husbands, brothers, sweethearts and all, were out with the “Dragons.”

Here one of the men roused the ire of a lady, by attempting to take a coverlet, to such an extent that she made an attack on him with stones, and pressed him so close and hot, cursing him roundly all the while, that Richards, unable to mount his mule, surrendered the property, and soon after a rapid firing was heard in the direction of the party over on the road, which compelled the Captain to return to their assistance, and on approaching their position they were found warmly engaged with a party of the Dragons, and it was with great difficulty that Simpson and Stephenson, who were completely cut off, rejoined their comrades. The Dragons could now be seen skulking and creeping among the rocks and trees, on the mountain side, in considerable numbers, and Myers judged it best to keep his party well together and ready for emergencies, until the Colonel should get through with his arrangements in the cove and come to his assistance, which he did soon after, and the command moved down the mountain to the west, through what the citizens called “Smoke Hole,” a narrow gorge with the great walls of mountains on either side. Arrived at a cabin, with greased paper for windows, and everything else in keeping, a yearling colt and an enormous deer hound volunteered to take service in the battalion, and followed the column, which marched along a narrow path on the side of one mountain for a half mile further, when suddenly, from the top of the opposite one, the “Swamp Dragons,” in considerable force, opened a hot fire, but as good luck would have it they fired too high. The command was very much scattered, marching by file, and the head of the column halted as it came out of the gorge below, which forced the rear and centre to stand still under the fire, but the Colonel, with about half a dozen men, charged instantly up the steep side of the mountain, on which the “Swamps” were posted, gallantly led by the colt and dog, who dashed into the foremost fire, and as soon as the enemy found that they had waked up fighting people in earnest they ran off; but one man, an old citizen with a sporting rifle, resolved to kill somebody, and creeping through the bushes, had levelled his gun on the Colonel, at ten steps, when Nich. Dorsey saw him and warned White, who instantly fired on him with his pistol, wounding him in the hip, and at the same moment Alonzo Sellman shot him in the side, and the old man rolled over with the load still in his rifle.

The other “Swamps” all made their escape, although they had nearly equal force with the “Comanches,” and had all advantages possible in position, with the latter so hemmed in that not one-fourth of them could move. The old citizen was placed behind John Walker, and carried down the mountain, but he soon died, and was left at a cabin on the road where his son lived, and with no further attention than to lay him on the ground, (except that the dog licked his face in passing,) the battalion marched on, looking out for more trouble with the Dragons. On approaching a house in a less wild and broken country, a woman, mounted man-fashion, on a horse, met the command, proclaiming that she was a rebel, and being shown the rifle of the old citizen, who had been shot, she exclaimed, "It’s daddy’s gun; I know it; he’s a damned old Yankee, and I hope you have killed him." Col. White made no halt at her house, although his boys had cleaned out pretty generally all the houses they had passed, but marched quietly on and camped at the first hay stacks they had seen in the mountains, in fact the only long forage found all day was buckwheat straw in little round stacks, and a few fodder blades.

On the morning of the 21st, the “Comanches” waked up finding a foot of snow on their blankets and more of it coming down, but they had slept warm and sound beneath this extra covering, and soon as possible the march was resumed for Petersburg, but it was a very disagreeable one, the weather being excessively cold and the “people” were forced to ford the South branch six times in deep water, which told bitterly on the horses, and at the last one, which was at Petersburg, some of the weak ones fell and the men had to wade out, but an early camp with plenty of feed and good attention made everything all ready for the mountain march in the morning.

The weather continued freezing cold, and the Colonel halted for two nights and a day in the South Fork Valley, but on Christmas day the battalion passed Brock’s Gap—the gateway to the Valley—and if there was a sober man in the battalion, outside of Company E, I did not see him; was with the command all day too.

The great business was now to get permission for the “Comanches” to disband. The escaped convict from the devil’s penitentiary, Sheridan, had made the destruction of forage in the Valley complete; the snow lay deep upon the blue grass field, making it impossible for the starving horses to glean the shadow of a subsistence from them; and the worn-out Rail Road, with its rickety rolling stock, was scarcely capable of carrying supplies to Early’s men at Staunton, while the cavalry division, in camp at Swope’s Depot, six miles west of that place, only had an allowance of six pounds of wheat straw a day for the horses, and no grain at all, all of which made White’s battalion swear that they would not winter in the Valley, but all the exertions of the Colonel seemed to be fruitless, for General Early declined to permit them to shift for themselves; and now Company F, following the examples set by Companies A, B and C, deserted in a body on the night of the 27th December, leaving Company E the banner Company, as being the only one that did not stain its reputation with the shame of desertion. The Colonel was in Staunton trying to get permission to take his battalion to Loudoun, and when Captain Myers called for the morning reports on the 28th, they showed a force in camp all told of forty-three men and three officers, viz: Company A, 18 men, 1 officer; Company B, 16 men, 1 officer; Company C, 3 men; Company E, 6 men, 1 officer; and when the Colonel came in on the 30th and learned of the desertion of Company F, he was so much troubled and excited over it that he declared he would not try to do anything more for the “Comanches,” and would never command them again, but the Loudoun boys gathered around their Chief like children around a father, beseeching him to think better of it, and not cast them away from his care entirely, and he recalled his bitter words, promising to try again to have them disbanded for this winter, as portions of General Fitz Lee’s division had been done the preceding one; and on the last day of the year he started again for Staunton, telling Captain Myers he would dispatch to him the next day at Harrisonburg, telling him what to do, and when on Sunday morning, January 1st, 1865, the Captain entered the telegraph office at that place, he found the welcome dispatch:

There was no time lost; but Myers had taken time by the forelock, and before leaving camp in the morning, had ordered the border Companies to move out for Loudoun, and Company E to go home, so that he, being sixteen miles behind, did not overtake them until they reached Front Royal.

A violent snow-storm was raging as they passed through Manassa Gap, but it was no hindrance to them now; in fact, they were glad of it, for it served to prevent scouting parties of Yankees from coming out, and also shut other avenues through which news of them might have been communicated to the enemy; and the little band of “Comanches” felt very much like fugitives, for what they had seen and experienced in the Valley, had impressed upon them, to a considerable extent, the belief that the “starry cross” was being enveloped in the gloom of annihilation, and the fact that their Government was unable to support them, had tamed their spirits wonderfully.

When they entered their paradise, for such Loudoun county seemed to them, they found that the fire-fiends had been to work there too, but not to the same extent they had practiced their inhuman desolation on the Shenandoah; and now they were glad that the “Quaker settlements” and “Dutch corner” of this county, were full of men loyal to Yankee land, for, as the burning devils began their work among the Union men first, it brought such influential remonstrances to the powers that were, that the destruction was partially averted; and then the gallant Mosby, with his partizans in the mountains, had a most salutary effect in preventing the burners from wandering too far from their line of march and too near the mountains which run through this region. So that badly damaged though they were, the people of Loudoun were far more removed from the want of provisions that fell heavily upon their neighbors over the Blue Ridge, and the soldiers, whose homes were here, found themselves in the midst of what seemed to them an endless abundance.

The men whose homes were in Albemarle, were far the most fortunate though, for, with an abundance of rations and forage, they were entirely free from any fear of the enemy’s raiding parties, while Company E, in Page and Shenandoah and Warren, were not only in a destitute country, but in nightly danger of being “gobbled up” by the scouting bands sent out by Sheridan’s army in the “lower Valley,” but they betook themselves to the mountains and the “Little Foot Valley,” or Powell’s Foot, as it is sometimes called, and enjoyed themselves as only men can do who have continual danger to add zest to their enjoyment of home and rest.

Of how the winter passed away, each individual had a different story to tell, and it would be impossible to give them all in the history of the battalion; but of two or three incidents that kept the men from forgetting they were still soldiers, we must tell the history.

The three Companies, A, B and C, were scattered through Loudoun and Fairfax counties, nominally under the command of Captain Myers, Co. A, who held weekly meetings of his squadron at various points, but apart from the meetings the men were under no restrictions or control except such as the necessity for watching the Yankees and keeping out of the way of their scouting parties imposed.

Company B staid, for the most part, in the mountain near Hughesville and Leesburg, but Lieut. Chiswell had his headquarters near the Potomac, and learning of a Yankee camp on the Maryland side, at Edwards’ Ferry, he concluded to attempt a raid on their horses, and early in February he got twenty-two of his men together, started from Mrs. Mavin’s mill about 8 o’clock at night, leaving their horses on the Virginia side. They crossed the river on the ice, about three-quarters of a mile below the Ferry, and coming out on the road made as good time as possible for the camp, but when within one hundred yards of it were called upon by two vedettes to halt. This brought on some firing, and without waiting a moment for the Yankees to get ready, the Lieutenant and his men, giving the customary yell, and keeping it up, charged at a double-quick into the camp. The Yankees had not yet gone to bed, and rushed to see what was coming, but one glance was sufficient for them it seems, for Lieut. Chiswell says they could not have disappeared any quicker than they did if the ground had opened beneath them and swallowed them, but there was one exception, for one man (a soldier he was) tried his utmost to fire his carbine, but it refused to go off, and he was captured in the attempt to defend his camp; he and one other were wounded, and one prisoner taken, and as soon as the camp was cleared Lieut. Chiswell and some of his men hunted up and secured fourteen good horses and rigging, the property of the 1st Delaware Cavalry. While this was being done another party paid a visit to a store near by, and Lieut. C. says, that considering the fact of their having no light, he thinks they made a very fair selection of goods.

After arranging matters to their notion the raiders returned to the Virginia side with their spoils, bringing their one prisoner along, but as soon as they got over the question arose “What will we do with him?” and as none of the party was willing to escort the gentleman to Richmond, which was the only place they could take him, they proposed to him that if he would trade shoes with one of the captors, who was bad off in that line, they would release him unconditionally, a proposition which he eagerly accepted, and lost no time in consummating the trade.

About Christmas a Federal brigade, commanded by General Deven, had established itself in winter quarters near Lovettsville, in Loudoun county, with its right wing protected by the Short Hill and its left resting on the turnpike, near the Berlin Ferry on the Potomac; and during the time they were there these troops had treated the inhabitants of the country through which they scouted and foraged with far more courtesy and consideration than was the custom of Federal soldiers south of the Potomac. It is true that buildings in the vicinity of their camps were in many instances stripped of their planking to be used for the more comfortable fitting up of the soldiers quarters, but as a general thing Deven showed that his warfare was not upon helpless citizens, whose persons and property were entirely at his mercy, and in this respect proved himself an exception to the majority of commanding officers in the abolition crusade upon the South, who only limited their license to the extent of their power. And this forbearance on the part of Gen. Deven was all the more remarkable from the fact that the indomitable Mobberly, in company with a few others whose homes and sweethearts were in the Federal lines, made almost nightly attacks upon the pickets, and some nights this rough-riding scout with his little band would commence at one end of the chain and make the entire circuit of the camps, driving in every picket on the line, and keeping the regiments under arms the whole night. It is easy to imagine what a visitation of wrath this would have brought upon the citizens in his power, from Sir “Headquarters-in-the-Saddle,” although they were as innocent of any complicity in or knowledge of these forays as the silent tenants of the graveyard, and because Gen. Deven looked upon them with the judgment of the true soldier in an enemy’s country, and acted like a soldier and not a barbarian, the people respected him; but when his scouting parties went through the country piloted by Means’ men, hen-roosts, milk-houses and ladies’ wardrobes were invaded in the most approved style of genuine Yankee warfare, as was invariably the case when the “Independent Loudoun Rangers” went out on the war-path, and no dread of Mosby or White sharpened their consciences.

This much for General Deven and his men.

In February, 1865, Colonel White came to Loudoun and taking a view of the situation, resolved to try a raid into the Federal camp.

Mobberly, Lum Wenner and others who knew the Lovettsville country almost as well as if they had made it, scouted for him and with great difficulty obtained the information that the 6th New York Cavalry was encamped nearest the Short Hill and had about two hundred and fifty men in camp.

On the evening of the 17th, the Colonel quietly collected what force he could in that part of the county, and at Woodgrove found he had about eighty men all told, including Colonel R. P. Chew, of the famous “Horse Artillery,” and a few of Mosby’s men, and about 9 o’clock the little squadron moved from the rendezvous, and passing Neersville, crossed the Short Hill by a narrow path near St. Paul’s.

On clearing the mountain a small advance guard, led by Mobberly, was sent out to capture the pickets, but very soon firing was heard, and dashing rapidly forward the Colonel found that Mobberly and Frank Curry had been compelled to shoot some of the enemy at the reserve of the post, and knowing that success depended on surprising the camp, he continued the charge.

On reaching the place the unwelcome discovery was made that instead of two hundred and fifty—which was considered about as many as White’s eighty men wanted—the enemy’s force had been increased that day by the addition of over three hundred new men, making fully six hundred, and it had something the appearance of fool-hardiness to attack them, especially as a large portion were in strong log huts; however, a good part of the new men were in tents along the side of the camp where the attack was to be made, and their canvas walls were not much protection against the bullets that White’s charging command began to pour into them as soon as they became fairly headed for them.

Great confusion was the result of the attack, and fully one hundred and fifty prisoners, and as many horses, were captured at the first onset, and if the Colonel had now been content to retire, he would have had as much as he ought to have expected, but still ignorant of the new force, he judged from the confusion that he was in a fair way to become master of the camp, when, in fact, he had only captured the outskirts, and had not reached the real camp, which, as stated, was composed of huts, and under this wrong impression he remained too long, for a veteran officer, Capt. Bell, coolly proceeded to rally such of his men as were not too much demoralized, and in a very brief space had about two hundred of them in line on the opposite side of the extensive ground, with whom he advanced very unexpectedly upon the raiders, who were compelled to retire very precipitately, only bringing out about fifty horses and a dozen prisoners; but the Colonel had lost nothing, only one of his men being wounded, and he very slightly, so that all he got was clear gain to his command.

On reaching Woodgrove again the command disbanded and prepared to “lie low” until the inevitable scouring of the country by parties from Devon’s camp was accomplished, which sunrise would be the signal for commencing, and this was the last blow struck by the famous battalion against the enemy in Old Loudoun, whose hills and valleys were still darkened by the smoke of the burning barns and grain of her people, which had been fired by the vandal foe whom the 35th battalion was organized to protect the Loudoun border against.