He looked up, his eyes glowing and his confidence was communicated to them all.  They were mostly young men and they responded in kind to his burning words.  Sheridan knew that he could command from them the utmost fidelity and energy, and he uttered a little exclamation of confidence.

“I shall consider the victory already won,” he said.

The generals left for their commands, and Sheridan again thanked Colonel Winchester, Dick and Shepard.

“I recommend that all three of you take some rest,” he said, “you won’t have much to do this morning.”

They saluted, mounted and rode back.  “You take his advice, Dick, and roll yourself in your blanket,” said Colonel Winchester, when they were on the way.

“I will, sir,” said Dick, “although I know that great history is being made now.”

“I feel that way, too,” said the colonel.  “Look, the sun is coming up, and you can see the Confederate outposts.”

The thin, clear air of September was brilliant with morning light, and through glasses the Confederate outposts and works around Fisher’s Hill were quite clear and distinct.  Some of the Northern and Southern sentinels were already exchanging compliments with one another, and they heard the faint popping of rifles.  But Dick well knew from Sheridan’s words that this early firing meant nothing.  It would grow much heavier bye and bye and it would yet be but the cover for something else.

He found Warner and Pennington already sound asleep, and wrapping himself in his blanket he lay down under a tree and fell asleep to the distant crackle of rifles and the occasional thud of great guns.  He slept on through the morning while the fire increased, and great volumes of smoke rolled, as the wind shifted up or down the valley.  But it did not disturb him, nor did he dream.  His slumbers were as sound as if he lay in his distant bed in Pendleton.

While Dick and his comrades slept Sheridan was moving the men on his chess board.  Young in years, but great in experience, he was never more eager and never more clear of mind than on this, one of the most eventful days of his life.  He saw the opportunity, and he was resolved that it should not escape him.  Two great reputations were made in the valley by men very unlike, Stonewall Jackson and Little Phil Sheridan.  In the earlier years of the war the Union armies had suffered many disasters there at the hands of the leader under the old slouch hat, and now Sheridan was resolved to retrieve everything, not with one victory alone, but with many.

There was firing in the valley all day long, the crackling of the rifles, the thudding of the great guns, and the occasional charge of horsemen.  The curtain of smoke hung nearly always.  Sometimes it grew thicker, and sometimes it became thinner, but Sheridan’s mind was not upon these things, they were merely the veil before him, while behind it, as a screen, he arranged the men on his chess board.  When night came his whole line was pushed forward.  His vanguard held the northern part of the little town of Strasburg, while Early’s held the southern part, only a few hundred yards away.  In the night the large force under Crook was moved into the thick forest along Cedar Creek, where it was to lie silent and hidden until it received the word of command.