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[428] Guard for General Torbert, Sheridan's Chief of Cavalry, and my own squadron was the Provost Guard; my appearance at this time was, therefore, in my capacity as Captain commanding the Provost Guard. By publishing the following extract from my Personal Narrative, as printed in third series, No. 6 of the Soldiers' and Sailors' Historical Society of Rhode Island, you will gratify many soldiers of my old regiment who were always ready to follow wherever I might dare to lead them:

Looking again towards the enemy, I saw Colonel Charles Russell Lowell, who had been in command of the picket line, riding toward us with his horse in a walk—the last man to fall back before the advance of the enemy. The Confederate bullets were whistling about him, and frequent puffs of dust in the road showed where they struck right and left of the brave soldier. Putting spurs to my horse, I rode forward to meet him, and the following conversation ensued:

Colonel Lowell, I had but a few of the Provost Guards, and did what I could with them to help you.’

‘Well, Captain, we must check their advance with a sabre charge. Isn't that the best we can do?’

‘I think so, Colonel.’

By this time we had come up to the Third New Jersey Cavalry, known in the army as the ‘Butterflies’ on account of their gay uniforms, and Colonel Lowell said to the officer in command: ‘Major, let your first squadron sling their carbines, draw their sabres and charge.’ The order was given ‘forward,’ but not a man moved; they were completely disheartened by having seen the other troops driven back. The Captain in command of the squadron said, ‘Corporal Jones, are you afraid?’ and the Corporal made no reply. The men wavered, and Colonel Lowell said, ‘Give a cheer, boys, and go at them,’ and at once, suiting the action to the words, spurred his horse at the gallop towards the enemy, followed by myself, both of us waving our sabres. The squadron at once cheered and followed. After going a short distance, Colonel Lowell drew out to one side to be ready to send other troops to the support of the squadron, and I was left to lead the charge. I was mounted on a large and strong sorrel horse, formerly ridden by Captain Charles C. Gray, of one of our Rhode Island batteries, and was soon a hundred yards in advance of the squadron. Upon reaching the partially constructed barricade, I pulled up my horse. Looking back, I saw

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