* * * * *

At this period of my service I was in good health and somewhat more cheerful than I had been previously.  The woods had begun to show signs of Spring.  The snow had disappeared, and early in April the weather became mild.  To say that I was content would be to say what is untrue, but I felt that my condition had much of solace.  I knew that I had a friend in Captain Haskell—­a man whom I admired without reservation, and whose favours were extended to me freely—­I mean to say personal, not official, favours.  The more I learned of this high-minded man, the more did the whole world seem to me brighter and less deserving of disregard.  He was a patriot.  An heir to an estate of many slaves, he was at war for a principle of liberty; he was ready at any time to sacrifice personal interest to the furtherance of the common cause of the South.  In battle he was strong, calm, unutterably dignified.  Battle, it seemed to me, was considered by him as a high, religious service, which he performed ceremonially.  Nothing could equal the vigorous gravity of his demeanour when leading his men in fight.  His words were few at such times; he was the only officer I ever knew void absolutely of rant in action.  Others would shout and scream and shriek their orders redundant and unwholesome; Haskell’s eye spoke better battle English than all their distended throats.  He was merciful and he was wise.

* * * * *

On the 28th of April, 1863, we were ordered to have three days’ cooked rations in our haversacks, and to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice.

The next day at ten o’clock the men left their huts and fell into ranks.  We marched to Hamilton’s Crossing—­some six miles—­and formed in line of battle, and began to throw up breastworks.  The enemy was in our front, on our side of the Rappahannock, and we learned that he had crossed in strong force up the river also.  We faced the Yankees here for two days, but did not fire a shot.

Before dawn on Friday, May 1st, we were in motion westward—­up the river.  At noon we could hear skirmishing and cannon in our front.  The sounds at first went from us, but at two o’clock they increased in volume.  We were pressed forward; again the noise of the fight began to die away.  The enemy were retiring before our advanced troops.  Night came on, and we lay on our arms, expecting the day to bring battle.

The morning brought Jackson’s famous flank march to the left of Hooker’s army.  At first we moved southward under a sharp fire of artillery from which we seemed to retreat; the men thought the movement was retreat, and it is no wonder that Hooker thought so; but suddenly our march broke off toward the west, and the men could not conceal their joy over what they were now beginning to understand.  Frequently, on that day, Jackson was seen riding past the marching lines to the head of his column, or halted with his staff to see his troops hastening on.