Grant had been daily reinforced by recruits and forces from the West.  Butler had received a large reinforcement from Banks, on the lower Mississippi, and was gradually working his way up to Richmond.  A great number of these troops, to judge from the prisoners we captured, were foreigners; many could not speak a word of English.  Kershaw was ordered to reinforce the troops on the north side, and on the 13th of July we crossed the James on a pontoon bridge, near Chaffin’s Bluff, after an all night’s march over brush, briars, through field and bog, and took position on a high ridge running out from the river.  In front of us was a vast swamp of heavy timber and underbrush, called Deep Bottom.  Beyond Deep Bottom the enemy had approached and entrenched, being supported by gun boats in the James.  This position it was determined to surprise and take by assault.  Early at night the brigade was moved out in this swamp, along a dull road that ran along its edge, and advanced in the direction of the enemy.  No attempt of assault, was ever more dreaded or looked on with such apprehension, save, perhaps, our charge on the works at Knoxville, than this night charge at Deep Bottom.  When near the enemy’s position, we formed line of battle, while it was so dark in the dense woods that an object ten feet away could not be distinguished.  We had to take and give commands in whispers, for fear the enemy would discover our presence.  We moved forward gradually, a few steps at a time, each step a little nearer the enemy, who lay asleep behind their works.  We had advanced, perhaps, two hundred yards, and as yet had encountered none of the enemy’s pickets or videttes, showing how securely they felt in regard to a night attack.  While halting to adjust our lines, which had to be done every few paces, Colonel Rutherford and myself were reconnoitering in front, and discovered a white object a few feet away.  The men saw it, too, and thought it a sheep.  The Colonel advanced and gave it a slight jab with his sword.  In a moment a white blanket was thrown off, and there lay, as nicely coiled up as little pigs, two of the Yankee sentinels.  They threw up their hands in a dazed kind of way, and to our whispered threats and uplifted swords, uttered some unintelligible jargon.  We soon saw they did not understand a word of English.  So it was we captured almost their entire picket line, composed of foreigners of Banks’ Army, of Louisiana.  Just then, on our right, whether from friend or foe, I never learned, several discharges of rifles alarmed both armies.  It was too late then to practice secrecy, so the command “charge” was given.  With a tremendous yell, we dashed through the tangled, matted mass of undergrowth, on towards the enemy’s line.  Aroused thus suddenly from their sleep, they made no other resistance than to fire a few shots over our head, leaving the breastworks in haste.  Some lay still, others ran a few rods in the rear, and remained until captured, while the greater part scampered away towards their gun boats.