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[331] Fayetteville, and summoned General Cox to the aid of General McClellan with the larger portion of his command.

In September, General Loring advanced towards the Valley with a rumored force of 10,000 troops. On the 10th of September, they reached the outpost at Fayetteville, W. Va.; here were two regiments the Thirty-fourth and Thirty-seventh Ohio. The skirmishing began in the morning, but it was not until noon that we could see the line advancing, and were ordered to strike tents and prepare for battle. We started at a moderate pace but soon quickened our step, the dust arose so thick we could not see each other when the bullets began to whistle through our ranks. Knapsacks were peeled instantly; inside of mine was the picture of ‘the girl I left behind me.’ I never saw it again, and was it any wonder that she married the fellow I left behind me?

Suddenly we marched by the left flank, leaving the road for the grass and a heavier storm of bullets. Only a portion of the command was in this part of the engagement, and the enemy outnumbered us six to one. Of this we were ignorant as they were on a hill, and hid by woods. One man in three, of that band was either killed or wounded. The writer advanced with the front rank until it was broken into a skirmish line, when each man sought what shelter he could, yet going forward. The idea that we should not drive the enemy was not entertained by the writer, hence, in his ardor, he did not hear the bugle-call retreat. He was lying down with his head to the enemy, and some bushes between them loading his gun, when a ball passed under his shoulder and lodged at his feet. ‘They are getting the range of you,’ said a comrade. ‘Yes, and I will leave here,’ and that was the last he saw of his own men. Crossing a depression he lay down behind a log, replenished his cartridges, fired at the enemy two hundred yards away, and then ran with an empty gun for some bushes a dozen yards distant to his right and forward, where he supposed his men were. Judge of his surprise to find, as he dropped down exhausted, men in butternut uniform.

His first impression was that they were Union men driven in by the enemy; they had not seen him until he was near, and supposed that he was deserting. One said to him, ‘You are all right,’ but he responded, ‘I don't know about that.’ Another having hold of the muzzle of the prisoner's gun, said, ‘Give me this gun.’ ‘I will,’ was the reply, ‘if you will take good care of it.’ Another requested him to pass over his cartridges. ‘I have given you half ’

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