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[54] ahead, and about 1 o'clock we came in sight of the enemy's pickets. The sentinel on post, in a red shirt, was taking his ease at full length under a rail shelter. The group of horsemen, Generals Ewell, Taylor and Steuart, Colonel Johnson and others, who halted to reconnoitre, appeared somewhat to puzzle him. He looked, and looked again, as if he could not believe his eyes, at last, lazily getting up, he reached over for his musket, and all at once quickly raised it, fired, and ran for his life. The truth had suddenly flashed on his benighted brain that the “Rebels” were upon him. After him went companies D and G, on the right and left as skirmishers, and down the road charged a squad of cavalry. In a few minutes the whole post was captured. “What regiment do you belong to?” said Colonel Johnson to a Dutchman whom a cavalryman was double-quicking to the rear: “I pelongs to de First Maryland,” said Hans. “There's the First Maryland,” shouted the Colonel, as the boys sprang on again in a run. The First Maryland Yankees had long been an object of great interest to us. We had often heard of their expressed anxiety to make our acquaintance, and the feeling had got to be quite warm in reciprocity. If there was anything we did desire, next to marching down Baltimore street, it was to get as close to the bogus First Maryland as possible. We knew that while it had many Baltimore men in it, a large proportion were Dutch Yankees, and such people, and had a private idea that any intimate intercourse between the two regiments would not be healthy for them. And, now here they were, close at hand. It was delightful. While the regiment was halted a second or two to breathe and reform, our skirmishers could be seen engaged with the enemy, posted in a large hospital, from which they were showering balls. “Colonel” said, General Steuart, “Can't you take that building?” It was distant six or seven hundred yards. “I think so,” said the Colonel. “There they are, boys;” “take them,” said he. Off we went with a yell, every man doing his prettiest with his legs. Adjutant Ward dashed ahead, saying, “By your permission, Colonel,” while Major Wheat shot by like a rocket, his red cap gleaming, revolver in hand, and got in first, throwing his shots right and left. The hospital was taken. Charging through the village, some of the men ran against a large squad of Yankees, who fired right in their faces without effect. Clearing the town on the Wincester road, a line of battle could be perceived on the crest of a hill half a mile off, and advancing to a stone fence near to it, Colonel Johnson halted to collect and breathe the men. In a few minutes their skirmishers came rapidly down the hill into the wheat field in front. The whole battalion then advanced as skirmishers,

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Bradley T. Johnson (3)
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