Our Brigade, as I remember, was commanded by Col. H. L. Cake of the 96th Penn., General Bartlett having another command temporarily, and the Division was commanded by General Brooks. We moved early on the morning of the 12th, which was Friday, up towards the heights, crossing a deep gully along the bottom of which a little stream ran towards the river. The sun rose and dispelled the fog, which was heavy and thick and covered the flats of the river like a blanket, also concealing from view the hills in our front, at the same time screening us from the enemy's observation. Looking back towards the river, there was a mass of troops in motion, including infantry, artillery and cavalry, equal in number to an army corps. In our front the fog was slowly receding toward the heights and as soon as it revealed some of our moving troops, they were greeted with a shotted salute from the Confederate batteries in our front. Almost at once Hexamer drove by on a gallop with his battery of three-inch steel Rodmans, and their sharp, fierce bark soon joined the chorus of other sounds; and this splendid, energetic artillery officer with his
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