e
detachments of cavalry; Brig. Gen. J. R. West in command. We arrived at
the town of Austin, 18 miles from Hicks' Station, about 2 o'clock on
the afternoon of the 22nd. It was a little country village, situated on
a rocky, somewhat elevated ridge. As I understand, it is now a station
on the Iron Mountain railroad, which has been built since the war. I
reckon if in May, 1864, any one had predicted that some day a railroad
would be built and in operation through that insignificant settlement
among the rocks and trees, he would have been looked on as hardly a
safe person to be allowed to run at large.

Co. D started on the march with only one commissioned officer, Second
Lieutenant Wallace. I have forgotten the cause of the absence of Capt.
Keeley and Lieut. Warren, but there was doubtless some good reason. On
the first day's march the weather was hot, and the route was through a
very rough and broken country. Wallace was overcome by heat, and had to
fall out, and wait for an ambulance. In consequence, it so happened
that when we reached Austin, there was no commissioned officer with us,
and I, as first sergeant, was in command of the company. And that gave
rise to an incident which, at the time, swelled me up immensely. On
arriving at the town, the regiment halted on some open ground in the
outskirts, fell into line, dressed on the colors, and stood at ordered
arms. Thereupon the adjutant commanded, "Commanding officers of
companies, to the front and center, march!" I was completely taken by
surprise by this command, and for a second or two stood, dazed and
uncertain. But two or three of the boys spoke up at once and said,
"You're our commanding officer, Stillwell; go!" The situation by this
time had also dawned on me, so I promptly obeyed the command. But I
must have been a strange looking "commanding officer." I was
barefooted, breeches rolled up nearly to the knees, feet and ankles
"scratched and tanned," and my face covered with sweat and dirt. The
closest scrutiny would have failed to detect in me a single feature of
the supposed "pomp and circumstance" of an alleged military hero. But I
stalked down the line, bare feet and all, with my musket at a shoulder
arms, and looking fully as proud, I imagine, as Henry of Navarre ever
did at the battle of Ivry, with "a snow-white plume upon his gallant
crest." By the proper and usual commands, the "commanding officers of
companies" were brought up and halted within a few pac