The morning of May 5th opened calm and still, and there was no sign by which men could judge of the bloody day before them, for literally all was “quiet along the lines,” but the quiet of the scene was oppressive in its extreme stillness, and the sun rolled like an immense ball of barely red hot iron, seeming to be almost touching the tops of the pine trees under which lay the “Laurel Brigade,” unrefreshed by even the quiet repose of the past night, and many remarks were made about the singular appearance of the Day God as he waded higher and higher through the still, smoke-laden air of that battle-morn, some of the men repeating the Napoleonic exclamation, “remember the sun of Austerlitz,” and Colonel White declaring that it presaged a bloody day.

Soon after sunrise the command moved slowly down the Cataupin road, and in an hour the dismounted men were skirmishing with the enemy in the dense thickets of pine and undergrowth which closely bordered the road on either side and extended towards the river by Shady Grove and White Hall, but the battalion was not engaged, although rapidly marched from wing to wing, expecting each moment to be thrown upon the Yankee line, and not knowing just where the blue would break through the gray and compel a cavalry charge to drive them back, for the firing each moment grew in volume and intensity until the fight raged fiercely all along the lines. At this time the battalion was out of ammunition, and although details had been sent to the ordnance trains frequently, they always returned with the same aggravating report that none was to be procured, as the cavalry train had not yet come up, and under the circumstances the men watched with a far deeper interest than usual the progress of the battle. About the middle of the day Capt. Emmett, Rosser’sRosser’s A. A. General, and Jim Robinson, the General’s pet courier, came from the front, both badly wounded, and told White’s men that the Yankees were reinforcing and they would soon have to charge, but about 2 o’clock General Rosser succeeded in driving the Yankees from their position, and at once pushed his brigade rapidly forward. Just as the battalion came in range of the enemy’s batteries the column halted, and for several minutes the situation was decidedly hot, the shells exploding precisely at that point, and causing the loss of several men and horses; but pretty soon one of the advance regiments drove off the annoying battery, and the whole column moved quickly forward over the Po river, where they struck a considerable force of the enemy, which, after a sharp fight, was completely routed, and Rosser’s men followed the retreating Yankees at a gallop, by some plantation roads and swamp paths, far to the left, bringing up at a body of woods on a hill about a mile from the river they had just crossed, and still on the Cataupin road, not far from Todd’s Tavern, having made a circuit in the chase of about three miles.

The men had become very much scattered in the rapid ride through such a country, and White’s people, being in the rear, were of course worse strung out than any others, in fact when the head of the first squadron (which by the evolutions on the other side of the river had been thrown in rear of the battalion) came up to the woods, where a division of the enemy’s cavalry had met and engaged the brigade in a fierce and stubborn fight, there were scarcely a dozen men in sight, and Capt. Myers called a halt in order to allow the others time to close up, as the front of the battalion was hid from view in the thick woods, but Gen. Rosser, who was sitting on his horse near the road, listening to the rapid firing in front of him, called out, excitedly, "Let ’em out, Myers; let ’em out! Old White’s in there, knocking them right and left." And with a wild yell Company A dashed forward, wheeling to the left as it reached the road, the Captain supposing he could thus come down upon the right flank of the enemy, but they had scarcely gone one hundred yards when a piece of artillery, hidden in the pines on the road side, blazed a storm of grape into the column, which for a minute checked its progress, and by the time the squadron was ready to charge the masked battery, it was limbered up and moved rapidly away, barely escaping capture. The first squadron then joined the battalion, finding it hotly engaged with fully six times its number, and for want of ammunition being slowly driven back.

The enemy had attempted repeatedly to charge, but was met and repulsed every time, and in this rally and retreat style of fighting, individuals on both sides displayed great skill and courage, but the fight was altogether on horseback, and as in the days when Cavalier and Puritan met in the conflict long ago, so it was now with their descendants, and the superiority of Southern horsemanship gave the advantage to that side, but it was the only one it did possess. Many prisoners were taken by White’s men, and the first demand was always for their cartridges and their arms afterwards, and every bullet thus taken from the captured Yankees was soon returned to their comrades, minus the powder however.

After an hour of hard fighting, a flank movement forced them almost to the edge of the woods on the hill before spoken of, and the men, discouraged because of their lack of ammunition, were ready to give up the fight, which the enemy did not show much disposition to press further, but the officers rallied them for another trial.

The battalion was drawn up alongside of the road, and as a regiment of Yankees galloped down in their front, Capt. Myers turned to Col. White, and asked, "Colonel, how can we fight those fellows with no ammunition? We’d as well have rocks as empty pistols." But the Colonel replied so grimly, “What are our sabres for?” that the men drew their blades without any hesitation, and charged square at the Yankee column, which wheeled about and retired faster than it came, closely pursued by the “Comanches,” but after going about half a mile a force of the enemy was observed moving through the pines to the right and rear of the battalion, and Capt. Myers, with Jack Dove and Jim Whaley, turned towards them and firing with captured pistols as rapidly as possible, called loudly for “first squadron,” “second squadron,” &c., to “forward” and “charge,” making so much noise in the operation, that the Yankees halted and opened a sharp fire upon what they supposed to be at least a rebel regiment, and shortly after, the Colonel returned with the battalion and the enemy retired over the hill.

This ended the fighting for that evening, with the exception of some slight skirmishing as the brigade retired over the Po river to Shady Grove, where it encamped for the night.

The battalion did not number over one hundred and fifty men in the last charge, about twenty having been killed and wounded, and quite a number (as is usually the case) were reported in the list of “missing in action;” but only one was never heard of afterwards, (John J. Clendenning of Co. C,) and it was supposed that he had fallen into the hands of the enemy after being wounded, and died either in hospital or prison.

The hard work for both men and horses, had told grievously on the little band of “Comanches,” and they all hoped that they would not be called upon to leave their camp the next day, but by sunrise on the morning of the 6th, the bugles were sounding to horse, and very soon the old Ashby brigade was moving on the same Cataupin road towards Todd’s Tavern—names long ago made familiar and famous in the annals of the war.

After crossing again the Po river, on the same crazy, ricketty bridge, over that chocolate-colored stream, which with the “Matt,” “Tay,” and “Nye” rivers, form the now celebrated “Mattapony,” the column turned to the left, leaving the battle-ground of the preceding evening about half a mile to the right, and when the gates, fields and fences of the Chancellor plantation had been cleared, and the brigade was marching easily and freely through the open pine country bordering on the “Wilderness,” General Rosser ordered Col. White to “send his best squadron to the front,” when the Colonel told Capt. Myers to take his company and report to the General. As before remarked, Company A was now the first squadron, it being a large and unusually full company, and the small company (D) which formerly with A composed the squadron having been disbanded, and also, besides thus being the easiest handled, was at the head of the column, causing it to be selected to fill the rather invidious order of the General.

As the Captain rode forward and reported for special duty, the General gave his order, which was, verbatim, "Myers, move your people down this road and run over everything you come to. I’ll send a pilot with you." “The people” moved in lively style along the road, which now bore to the right and more in the direction of the previous day’s fighting, when they commenced to pass evidences of panic on the part of the “boys in blue,” in the shape of gum cloths, blankets, carbines, hats and saddles, and thinking that as Yankee plunder was plenty, the men who left it were out of the way, they moved too fast, and the General sent one of his staff with orders to go slower and not get too far from the brigade.

At length, after crossing a swampy stream and marching quietly along the left of a sedgy old field, in which some Yankees were discovered about a hundred and fifty yards to the right, and who began sending their compliments from Spencer and Sharpe, the squadron found that their road forked at the corner of the field, and not knowing which to take, Myers halted and called for his pilot, but not finding him, Jim Harper, in his peculiar style, reported that "the dam ’scape gallus had picked up a saddle at the branch, and as soon as the first shot was fired in the field had carried it to the rear like the devil."

The men in the field had now stopped firing and gone into the woods, and Myers asked Lieut. Conrad which road he thought they had better take, to which the Lieutenant replied "that it didn’t make much difference, so they got to the Yankees," when the Captain turned the head of the column to the right, and with the command, “Forward, boys; and get ready to fight,” marched down the side of the field about a hundred yards, and looking back saw Col. White, with the battalion, moving quietly from the woods at the branch and turning into the field. Fifty yards further brought the first squadron to a point where the road turned abruptly from the field into the woods, and with a rattling, whizzing blaze of carbines they were received by a squadron of the enemy not twenty steps distant. The fire was instantly returned, and a charge made, when the Yankees broke and as rapidly as possible fell back upon their supporting regiment, which in turn gave way before the dashing charge of the victorious rebels.

Just here the enemy moved forward a heavy line of cavalry, said by prisoners to be two divisions, and Col. White went in with his battalion in his usual “neck or nothing” style, but not being supported, was in a few minutes so roughly handled that it was with great difficulty his people got clear of the swarming masses of Yankees that lined all the space from woods to stream. The Colonel’s horse was killed, the Adjutant’s horse was killed, and in trying to save his papers which were fastened on the saddle, that gallant officer was captured.

Several men were killed and wounded in this desperate charge, and the enemy dashed after the retreating Confederates until met by the 11th Regiment, which only checked them and gave way when the 12th and 7th Regiments were, in detail, met and driven back by the overwhelming forces of the Yankees. But just at this moment the ubiquitous Col. Chew threw his horse artillery into position and poured such a storm of grape and shell into the crowded columns of blue-jackets, that they were in turn forced to retire and let their own artillery come into the fight. The Yankee batteries were posted in a semi-circle, with their right wing thrown forward, and the fiery Capt. Thompson had a red-hot position for his guns, but like the hero he was he held it, and his cannoniers, like smiths at their forges, labored incessantly in the unequal fight, amid the baleful death-fires that surrounded them. There are two expressions in the military vocabulary that describe situations usually fatal to the party occupying them, the first of which is that terrible word “flanked,” and the second “artillery cross-fire,” carries with it almost equal dread, and this second is what tried the metal of the boys of Chew and Thompson that day, but they were proof-steel.

However, it is not with the Stuart Horse Artillery that we have to deal now, and to return to the 35th Battalion. As soon as the artillery had checked the enemy, the Colonel commenced to rally and form his people in rear of the battery as a support to it, but no one thing in the duty of an officer is harder to accomplish than to form broken troops under such a fire as now swept this same old field of sedge. All the regiments of the brigade were trying it, and with about equal success. General Stuart rode back and forth along the road in the rear, his black plume waving on the death-laden morning air, and his beautiful sword laid across his arm, doing his utmost to stop the fugitives from the terrible field, and induce them to return to their duty. He was perfectly cool, and his calm but positive words, "You must go back, boys, the Yankees can’t more than kill you if you fight them—and if you don’t go back I’ll kill you myself—better be shot by the enemy than your own men—go back, boys!" had a fine effect upon some, but the murderous cross-fire had such a demoralizing power that even Gen. Lee himself could not have kept the majority of the runaways on the smoking field; and now, if the enemy had pushed forward one resolute brigade, such as Custer’s was said to be, the artillery could have been captured and the victory won, but they didn’t know it, and in their ignorance, and Chew’s audacity, rested the salvation of Rosser’s brigade.

After the cannonade had continued for perhaps half an hour, and the little line of supports to the battery had melted away almost to nothing, composed now of men from the 11th and White’s battalion, the Colonel resolved to bring such of the men as were lurking to rearward in the woods, into ranks again, and for this purpose ordered Capt. French, of Co. F, to cross the swamp and compel them to return. The Captain demurred to the arrangement, however, fearing that those who saw him ride back would imagine he, too, was running from the fight—but no man who ever saw Marcellus French on a battle-field could possibly have entertained such a thought for even a single moment, no matter what might be the surrounding circumstances, or the business in which he might be engaged, for a more stubbornly brave man never drew a sabre, and he was by long odds the coolest man in the battalion, “as cold as ice,” was the verdict passed upon him by the lamented Capt. Grubb. After a few moments’ consideration, French proceeded to execute the Colonel’s order, and succeeded in bringing several men back to the command.

White himself was riding around arranging his people, who were all dismounted, and here was the only place he was ever seen to dodge. Shells were plunging and bursting in, around, and over the ranks every moment, and when the business of re-organizing the line begun Capt. Myers was placed on the right to rectify the alignment, and stood on a tussock just at the edge of a marsh. When the Colonel had arranged matters to his notion he dismounted immediately in front of Myers and springing over the mud stood face to face with him on the tussock, but scarcely was he located than a shell howled wickedly past and very near their heads, when down went the Colonel’s head in Myers’Myers’ breast, in such a manner that it was impossible for the latter to bow his acknowledgment to the savage missile, and when, a moment later, the Colonel raised his head Myers was as near laughing in his face as the circumstances would permit. White laughed and shook himself, exclaiming "I golly! I believe I’m demoralized myself;" and every man there felt that they would be willing to exchange places with the famous Light Brigade at Balaklava even, for literally the guns volleyed and thundered on the right, left and front of that little band which was standing—and dying—at ease, without an opportunity to strike a blow or shelter themselves from the murderous fire that was literally ploughing the whole field with cannon shot. By-and-bye the fire became so hot that the Colonel ordered his men to lie down, and just as a party of them had crowded together in a little hollow that seemed to present the best prospect for shelter, a shell shrieked among them and completely tore the head of young Broy, of Company F, from his shoulders, scattering his blood and brains in the faces of his comrades, and killing a horse by its explosion a moment after.

A considerable number of the horses were struck, and the danger from the wounded steeds was almost as great as from the shells, for a horse, as a general thing, becomes much more frantic from a wound by an exploding shell than by a bullet.

Ed. Oxley’s horse was instantly killed, and he walked up to Capt. Myers to report the fact and ask what he must do, when the Captain told him to take his rigging from him and go to the rear, which Oxley at once proceeded to do, but on reaching his horse found that one of the 11th regiment had already performed that duty for him, and his saddle and clothes were nowhere to be found, whereupon Oxley became decidedly the most violently excited man in the field, swearing terribly, in his peculiar style, that “any man who would steal at such a time as that ought to be hung.”

The Rev. Lieut. Strickler, of Co. E, and Capt. French, both consistent members of the Methodist Church, were standing together conversing on the subject of religion when a party of the enemy’s sharpshooters came near enough to add their rifle bullets to the terrible storm of shell that rained around, and during the hottest of it the Lieutenant was heard to remark that whatever was foreordained by the Almighty would be accomplished, and if we were intended to be killed there we couldn’t help it, while, on the other hand, if our time had not yet been fulfilled according to God’s predestined plan, we were safe, although a thousand cannon should open their thunder upon us; and in this comfortable doctrine (under the circumstances) the Captain readily acquiesced, greatly to the gratification of Colonel White, who in religious opinion was an Old School Baptist.

About 2 o’clock the firing ceased, and the war-storm lulled to silence, allowing the soldiers a breathing spell and time to inquire for those who were missing from the ranks, and many of the brave boys who had gone gallantly into the battle that morning never came back again, for their names were dropped from the Company rolls to be recorded in the list of heroes who gave their lives for the “Lost Cause,” but who made it a glorious one by its bloody baptism.

Henry Moore, one of Company A’s best and bravest, and who had been with it from the beginning, had fallen in the front of the fight, shot through the brain. Joseph Hendon, a gallant young soldier, also of Company A, and a native of North Carolina, was killed in the first charge. Samuel W. Crumbaker, Company A, was mortally wounded, and Lieut. Benjamin F. Conrad, who deserved the title of “bravest of the brave,” if any man ever did, was terribly wounded in the thigh, (in the first charge, when Co. A was running over “everything she came to,”) which made amputation necessary, and he was never able to do duty again. Color-Sergeant Thos. N. Torreyson, Company C, also lost a leg, and John Douglass and Hugh S. Thompson, Co. C, were killed, as was also Jacob W. Huffman, of Co. E, and quite a large number wounded, whose names, as far as ascertained, will be found at the close of the volume.

The enemy occupied the battle-ground, and of course had the dead of the Confederate cavalry in their lines, but they buried them and marked their graves so their friends could find them.

The cavalry were not the only troops engaged on that bloody day, for at every lull in the battle on the right the muskets of the infantry could be heard along the lines to the left, and during the day the report came that Gen. Longstreet had beenbeen badly wounded by his own men, which was soon confirmed, and the thoughts of the soldiers flew back to “Stonewall” Jackson, while many of them cursed the blundering carelessness of the infantry, and the recklessness of the officers, in the same breath. There was really a vast difference between infantry and cavalry in this respect—the latter, having learned caution from outpost duty, would learn the character of an advancing party before firing, while the former, not being able to travel with the same celerity as the cavalry, nearly always fired first and inquired “Who comes there?” afterwards; a system that cost the Confederate States their independence, for if Jackson had lived, the North would have given up the fight at the close of the battle of Gettysburg.

In about two hours after the battle ended among the cavalry, the enemy fell back, and Maj. McClellan, of Gen. Stuart’s staff, called for Col. White’s people to go with him and establish communication with the infantry of Gen. Longstreet on the left, and marching quietly through the blazing Wilderness, their greatest care was to prevent their own men from firing into them.

The dense body of timber through which they had to pass was all on fire, and the dead pine trees were momentarily falling like flaming columns around them, with dark masses of smoke draping the wild scene as if Nature had thrown a funeral pall over the withering tide of desolation which contending armies were sweeping athwart the land, while along the Rail Road to our right, as we marched, we knew the Yankee line of battle was waiting.

As the battalion, with great difficulty, gained the middle of this burning forest, a kind of smothered sound of marching troops was heard, and peering silently through the smoke, we soon discovered a long line of infantry in blue cautiously marching directly towards us from the right, all carrying their muskets at a shoulder arms. They were not more than fifty yards away, and had not yet discovered us; but the distance was rapidly diminishing, and we knew that if we moved they would see us. Pretty soon, however, an infantry soldier, in tattered gray, met Col. White and Maj. McClellan, and gave them the welcome information that himself and twenty of his people had scouted near the enemy’s line, and getting on the flank of the Yankees, had captured about three hundred of them without firing a shot, and were now taking them back to Longstreet’s lines, with all their arms, in fact, just as they found them; and the Yankees were so impressed with the idea that they were now surrounded by hostile rebels, that their whole attention was given to the work of convincing everybody that they were prisoners and didn’t mean fight, when, in fact, they were in a gap a mile long, between the right wing and centre of Gen. Lee’s army, in which there were no troops but this little force of about one hundred cavalry, who were doing their best to get out of their uncomfortably hot position. Passing on about half a mile we came out on the plank road, and after some difficulty in signaling to the grim old veterans of Longstreet’s corps, who held it, that we were all right, they allowed us to come among them.

The next move was to establish vedettes through the Wilderness space we had just passed, and draw the line as near the Rail Road as possible, which was so well done that by dark White’s battalion stood on the track for more than half the distance; the enemy having retired a quarter of a mile from it, and about 10 o’clock the infantry extended their lines over the whole ground, relieving the “Comanches,” who now retired to their same camp at Shady Grove, and the day’s work was done.

It would be useless to proclaim that these men had met the foe unflinchingly, and had braved the iron tempest of this bloody battle day with unbroken front, for this would be at once to pronounce them more than mortal, and like gods, free from all the feelings common to humanity; but we do say, that they had, like men battling for the dearest rights which were given to the race, gone through the fire in the discharge of their duty, and while some had fled in panic from the conflict, the majority had held their ground against a foe that outnumbered them twenty to one, and had only given way when it was absolute suicide to remain longer on that harvest-field of death.