another matter. As a guard, we watched over our friends; as a picket,
we watched for our foe. For a long time, being no nearer the enemy
than the hearing of their drums, the soldiers had grown somewhat
careless. But there was an uncanny feeling in standing alone in the
still hours of the night, in a strange country, watching, waiting
for an enemy to crawl up and shoot you unawares. This feeling was
heightened, especially in my company, by an amusing incident that
happened while on picket duty on the Annandale road. Up to this
time there had been no prisoners captured on either side, and it was
uncertain as to what would be the fate of any who would fall in the
enemy's hands. As we were considered traitors and rebels, the penalty
for that crime was, as we all knew, death. The Northern press had kept
up quite a howl, picturing the long rows of traitors that would be
hung side by side as soon as they had captured the Confederate Army.
That there was a good deal of "squeamishness" felt at the idea of
being captured, cannot be doubted. So videttes were stationed several
hundred yards down the road with a picket post of four men, between
the outside sentinels and the company, as reserve. A large pine
thicket was to our right, while on the left was an old field with here
and there a few wild cherry trees. The cherries being ripe, some of
the men had gone up in the trees to treat themselves to this luscious
little fruit. The other part of the company lay indolently about,
sheltering themselves as best they could from the rays of the hot July
sun, under the trees. Some lay on the tops of fences, and in corners,
while not a few, with coats and vests off, enjoyed a heated game of
"old sledge." All felt a perfect security, for with the pickets in
front, the cavalry scouring the country, and the almost impassable
barricades of the roads, seemed to render it impossible for an enemy
to approach unobserved. The guns leaned carelessly against the fence
or lay on the ground, trappings, etc., scattered promiscuously around.