retaining his natural faculties, ever faced death in battle without some feeling of dread or superstitious awe.  The soldiers knew, too, the eyes of the world were upon them, that they were to make the history for their generation.  Tents were hurriedly struck, baggage rolled and thrown into wagons, with which the excited teamsters were not long in getting into the pike road.  Drums beat the assembly, troops formed in line and took position behind the breastwork; while the artillery galloped up to the front and unlimbered, ready for action.  The enemy threw twenty-pound shells repeatedly over the camp, that did no further damage than add to the consternation of the already excited teamsters, who seemed to think the safety of the army depended on their getting out of the way.  It was an exciting scene to see four-horse teams galloping down the pike at break-neck speed, urged forward by the frantic drivers.

It was the intention of McDowell, the Federal Chief, to surprise the advance at Fairfax Court House and cut off their retreat.  Already a column was being hurried along the Germantown road, that intersected the main road four miles in our rear at the little hamlet of Germantown.  But soon General Bonham had his forces, according to preconcerted arrangements, following the retreating trains along the pike towards Bull Run.  Men overloaded with baggage, weighted down with excitement, went at a double quick down the road, panting and sweating in the noonday sun, while one of the field officers in the rear accelerated the pace by a continual shouting, “Hurry up, men, they are firing on our rear.”  This command was repeated so often and persistently that it became a by-word in our brigade, so much so that when anything was wanted to be done with speed the order was always accompanied with, “Hurry up, men, they are firing on our rear.”  The negro servants, evincing no disposition to be left behind, rushed along with the wagon train like men beset.  While we were on the double-quick, some one noticed a small Confederate flag floating lazily in the breeze from a tall pine pole that some soldier had put up at his tent, but by the hurried departure neglected to take down.  Its owner could not entertain the idea of leaving this piece of bunting as a trophy for the enemy, so risking the chance of capture, he ran back, cut the staff, and returned almost out of breath to his company with the coveted flag.  We were none too precipitate in our movement, for as we were passing through Germantown we could see the long rows of glistening bayonets of the enemy crowning the hills to our right.  We stopped in Centerville until midnight, then resumed the march, reaching Bull Run at Mitchell’s Ford as the sun was just rising above the hill tops.