we could resume our march. The only light we had to guide us was from
the lightning in the heavens and the vivid flashes that came from the
enemy's cannon. Their firing did not do much execution, as they failed
to get a proper range. Besides, we were so close to them they were
firing over our heads, but the booming of the guns that hour of night,
with the roar of the thunder, was terrifying indeed, and beyond
description. We would wait for a lightning flash and advance a few steps
and halt, and then for a light from the batteries and again advance.

In the meantime day was breaking, and the light from the sun was coming
in, and at this point our enemy disappeared and the march was resumed.
We were afraid that the wagons that had already passed out on the open
turnpike had been captured. There were about 200 of them, but such was
not the case.

With these wagons was our brigadier commander, Gen. Wm. E. Jones, and
two regiments of cavalry. They got so mixed up with the enemy's cavalry
that night that it was almost impossible to distinguish friend from foe.
Our general was a unique character, and many are the jokes that are told
on him. While this fighting was going on those about him would address
him as general. He rebuked them for this and said, "Call me Bill." The
explanation was that the enemy was so close to them (in fact, mixed up
with them) that they did not want him to know that there was a general
in the crowd.

Two days afterwards we got hold of one of the county papers, which, in
giving the account of this attack, stated that the rebel, Gen. Wm. E.
Jones, was captured. Perhaps but for the shrewdness of Gen. Wm. E. Jones
in having his men call him "Bill" instead of "General," it might have
been true. The firing among the horses attached to the wagons that had
gone out on the open pike frightened them to such an extent that they
were stampeded, and we saw the next morning as we rode along that some
of the wagons had tumbled over the precipice on the right, carrying with
them the horses; also the wounded soldiers that were riding in the
wagons.

The retreat was continued all the next day, the enemy's cavalry
attacking us whenever they could, but without effect.

When we reached the river we found that our pontoon bridge had been
partly swept away by the flood caused by the storm I have just spoken
of. There was nothing to do but make a stand until the bridge could be
repaired, or until the river should fall s