On the morning of the 11th, at 3 o’clock, when all was still and the soldiers fast asleep, they were rudely aroused from their slumbers by the deep boom of a cannon away to the front and across the river.  Scarcely had the sound of the first gun died away than another report thundered out on the stillness of that December night, its echo reverberating from hill to hill and down along the river side.  These sounds were too ominous to be mistaken; they were the signal guns that were to put in motion these two mighty armies.  “Fall in” was the word given, and repeated from hill to hill and camp to camp.  Drums beat the long roll at every camp, while far below and above the blast of the bugle called the troopers to “boots and saddle.”  Couriers dashed headlong in the sombre darkness from one General’s headquarters to another’s.  Adjutants’ and Colonels’ orderlies were rushing from tent to tent, arousing the officers and men to arms, and giving instructions for the move.

I can remember well the sharp, distant voice of Adjutant Y.J.  Pope on that morning, coming down the line of the officers’ tents and calling out to each as he came opposite:  “Captain ——­, get your company ready to move at once.”

Under such orders, companies have that same rivalry to be first on the parade ground as exists among fire companies in towns and cities when the fire bell rings.  We were all soon in line and marching with a hasty step in the direction of the breastworks above the city, Kershaw taking position immediately to the right of the Telegraph Road.  This is a public highway leading into the city, curving in a semi-circle around Mayree Hill on the left.  From this road the hill rises on the west and north in a regular bluff—­a stone wall of five feet in height bordering either side of the road.  “Deep Run,” a small ravine, runs between the hill on which Kershaw was stationed and that of Mayree’s.  Daylight was yet some hours off when we took position, but we could hear the rattle of the guns of Barksdale’s Mississippians, whose turn it was to be on picket in the city, driving off the enemy’s pontoon corps and bridge builders.

The city was almost deserted, General Lee advising the citizens to leave their homes as soon as it became apparent that a battle would be fought here.  Still a few, loath to leave their all to the ravages of an army, decided to remain and trust to fate.  But soon after the firing along the river began, we saw groups of women and children and a few old men in the glim twilight of the morning rushing along the roads out from the city as fast as their feeble limbs and tender feet could carry them, hunting a safe retreat in the backwoods until the cloud of war broke or passed over.  Some Were, carrying babes in their arms, others dragging little children along by the hands, with a few articles of bedding or wearing apparel under their arms or thrown over their shoulders.  The old men tottered along in the rear, giving words of comfort and cheer to the excited and frightened women and little ones.  It was a sickening sight to see these helpless and inoffensive people hurrying away from the dangers of battle in the chilly morning of December, seeking some safe haunt in the backwoods, yet they bore it all without murmur or complaint.