hat had caused the suspending
of all military exercises; and as most of the men were lounging or
sleeping in their tents, we were literally caught napping. The alarm
spread instantly through the camp, and in a moment the command turned
out for action, somewhat in deshabille it is true, but none the less
effective, for every man had grabbed his rifle and cartridge-box at
the first alarm. Aided by a few shots from Captain Henry Hescock's
battery, we soon drove the intruders from our camp in about the same
disorder in which they had broken in on us. By this time Colonel
Hatch and Colonel Albert L. Lee had mounted two battalions each, and
I moved them out at a lively pace in pursuit, followed by a section
of the battery. No halt was called till we came upon the enemy's
main body, under Colonel Faulkner, drawn up in line of battle near
Newland's store. Opening on him with the two pieces of artillery, I
hurriedly formed line confronting him, and quickly and with but
little resistance drove him in confusion from the field. The sudden
turning of the tables dismayed Faulkner's men, and panic seizing
them, they threw away every loose article of arms or clothing of
which they could dismember themselves, and ran in the wildest
disorder in a mad effort to escape. As the chase went on the panic
increased, the clouds of dust from the road causing an intermingling
of friend and foe. In a little while the affair grew most ludicrous,
Faulkner's hatless and coatless men taking to the woods in such
dispersed order and so demoralized that a good many prisoners were
secured, and those of the enemy who escaped were hunted until dark.
When the recall was sounded, our men came in loaded down with plunder
in the shape of hats, haversacks, blankets, pistols, and shotguns, in
a quantity which amply repaid for the surprise of the morning, but
did not excuse the delinquent commander of our picket-guard, who a
few days later was brought to a realizing sense of his duty by a
court-martial.

Shortly after this affair Captain Archibald P. Campbell, of the
Second Michigan Cavalry, presented me with the black horse called
Rienzi, since made historical from having been ridden by me in many
battles, conspicuously in the ride from Winchester to Cedar Creek,
which has been celebrated in the poem by T. Buchanan Read. This
horse was of Morgan stock, and then about three years old. He was
jet black, excepting three white feet, sixteen hands high, and