ding titles of
historians of the rebellion, powerful gentlemen, who, from their
comfortable quarters in northern homes, watched our battles from afar,
quiet citizens whose sensibilities were never shocked by the sight of a
battle-field, and whose nerves can hardly withstand the shock of fire
crackers on the morning of a Fourth of July, have gravely informed their
readers that our whole army, including the Sixth corps, was driven
pell-mell six miles to the rear; and one of these grave historians very
quietly assures those who have leisure to peruse his queer accumulations
of absurdities, that we were driven all the way to Winchester, a
distance of more than twenty miles. For the comfort and encouragement of
these historians, so prolific of martial literature, and so barren of
any ideas of military movements, it is conceded that their accounts of
this battle are quite as correct as any which they are accustomed to
give to the public.

We took position just north of Middletown, which was about two miles in
the rear of the position held by the Second division of our corps early
in the morning. We went back quietly and in good order, a single
regiment, the Second Vermont, holding without difficulty the position we
abandoned. We carried with us all our wounded, all our shelter tents and
all our personal property of every description, and the rebels did not
dare to attack us. When we had taken our new position in the same order
that we had formed in the morning, the Second division on the left, the
First in the center, and the Third on the right, other troops also took
position in the line. The cavalry, which had never for a moment
faltered, took position, Custer on the right, Merritt on the left and
the Nineteenth corps, which had now succeeded in restoring order to its
broken ranks, was massed on the right and rear of the Sixth.

With this new line of battle in the strong position we now held, General
Wright determined that not only should the retreat stop here, but that
the rebels should be driven back across Cedar creek. Their career of
victory was ended. The grand old Sixth corps, directed by our own loved
General Getty, had turned the fortunes of the day. It was now ten
o'clock; far away in the rear was heard cheer after cheer. What was the
cause? Were reinforcements coming? Yes, Phil Sheridan was coming, and he
was a host. He had ridden from Winchester at amazing speed, and now, as
he passed the long trains of ambulanc