George H. Gordon, From Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain

Hardly had the enemy opened with his artillery, when a battery of Ricketts' division¹ sent its compliments in such furious earnest and with such accurate aim that the enemy retreated with a loss of nearly all his horses and many of his men. We found them where they fell when Jackson retreated.

While batteries were still passing farther to the rear, accompanied by straggling regiments of infantry and cavalry, I discovered General Williams, commanding our division, by my side. I asked him whether, in view of the probable formation of a new line of battle, I had better move still farther to the rear. To this he assented.

With the Second Massachusetts Regiment leading, followed by all that I could gather of my brigade, I had proceeded but a short distance, when out of the darkness of the night I heard a voice scolding at the retreating troops which preceded me. “Where are you going? Halt! I will report you! Halt, I say!” etc., was uttered, with an accent not English, and with a volubility quite foreign. In the midst of his vehement exclamations, whom should the speaker next encounter but Colonel Andrews, at the head of the Second Massachusetts Regiment. Him, therefore, the voice addressed, with the same energy and almost in the same words used to others, ending with the threat of a report. Evidently the speaker fancied the whole army was going to the rear, and his duty it was to save it from disgrace. I doubt if Colonel Andrews ever received such a “blessing” in a few moments in his life. It seemed to stagger him. I heard it, and rode forward, to find Andrews' march impeded by a little man, surrounded with a large staff. It was near midnight, and too dark to distinguish the person or rank of the speaker.