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Rapidan (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 182
curred. June 11 P. M.--Our lines are scarcely nearer the enemy than was their position in the case of the battle of Friday, more than a week ago. The troops on both sides, each behind their intrenchments, have kept up a desultory but useless fire, just sufficient to make it apparent that the respective works were not vacant. Both armies, in fact, have been enjoying the repose which was needed after the hard fighting and rapid marching of the three weeks campaigning from the banks of the Rapidan. To-day the silence is even more marked than before. The sound of a musket has scarcely been heard along the entire line. A few blurts of artillery, and the explosion of a shell or two over the trees, about the centre of the line, have been the only reminders this afternoon of the enemy's presence. From present indications it is not likely that there will be fighting for several days to come; but a storm is brewing, and may burst in a quarter least expected by the enemy. It is not
aded on the cars and carried off. The cavalry have gone on another raid. Whatever they undertake to do will be well done. June 9th, 1864.--There is nothing especially interesting to report to-day. On a part of the line picket firing has been kept up all day, while at other points it would seem as if by a mutual agreement this practice had ceased. Last evening a battery in Birney's division opened on a house on our left, which, according to a deserter who came in, was occupied by General Wilcox. Three shells went through it, causing the occupants to leave rather hastily. The fire was returned with very good aim, but without loss to us. The deserter says that Beauregard's troops are posted from Bottom's bridge all the way to the James River, watching for the appearance of our army in that direction. June 10 P. M.--The enemy are busy throwing up fortifications in the vicinity of Summer's and Bottom's bridge. The spires of Richmond are in view from the signal stations at thes
mbatants are entirely hidden from each other's sight. The last shot is fired, and the lull in the battle-storm is perfect. Adventurous spirits on both sides cautiously raise their heads above the .earthworks. How are you, Johnny? How are you Yank? are the questions usually bandied. Won't you shoot? says one. No, says the other. Well, we won't, chime in all; and immediately the parapets are swarmed with men who have been concealed behind them. Out jump the fellows from the rifle-pits, xchanged. The men have keen pleasure in their singular armistice, bantering each other sharply, and never overstepping the half-way line which separates their respective fortifications. Suddenly the cry is raised, Run back, Johnnys, or Run back, Yank, just as it happens to be, we're going to shoot, and the hostilities begin again. It is always understood, however, that the first shot shall be aimed high, and the veriest pawdler gets back to shelter safely. While this fraternal scene is b
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