Of course everybody dodged--it was natural that they should under such circumstances. I was detailed with another trooper to go down in a ravine to the right of our position, to fill the canteens of the company. I jumped at the chance, as I thought it would take me out of the direct range of the rebel artillery for a little while. We kept well to the rear of the regiment till we reached a row of trees and underbrush skirting the ravine. Then we faced to the front and followed a fence about half a mile. We found water and dismounted to fill our canteens. Pieces of shell began to drop all around us and into the water. We sprang up to ascertain the cause of this new departure, and discovered that the rebel artillery was shelling the woods. It was subsequently learned from a rebel prisoner that the Johnnies thought a column of Federal infantry was advancing upon their position under cover of the trees. “We can't stay here,” exclaimed my companion. “I should say not.” “Let's go back to the company.” “All right; go ahead.” We sprang into our saddles and hastened to get out of the woods. As we came into the open field near where we had left our company, we saw a column of infantry moving into position. The doughboys were rushing forward at a dog trot, with their long toms at right shoulder. It was a division of the Sixth corps, and was commanded, I think, by General David A. Russell, who was wounded that day or the next while gallantly leading his division against the enemy's lines. He was subsequently killed at the battle of Opequan, while serving under Sheridan in the valley. The cavalrymen were rejoiced at the arrival of the infantry, and at once mounted and pushed out toward the Chickahominy to cover the left flank of Grant's army. Our regiment and the battery had been withdrawn as soon as the infantry had arrived, and had moved to the left with the rest of Davies's brigade. When the two water-carriers, who had been shelled out of the woods, reached the position where we had left our company, the regiment was nowhere to be seen. “Which way did the cavalry go?” I asked an infantry colonel. “They pushed on to the front,” he replied. “Into the woods?” “Yes.” We put spurs to our horses and dashed down the road in that direction. We reached the edge of the woods and pushed on, jumping our horses over temporary rifle pits and rail barricades which had been occupied by the Confederates, and from which they had been ousted by the fire of our battery. We saw dead rebels in the rifle pits and in the road. We galloped on, and as we were beginning to wonder what had become of our regiment, we came against a column of rebel infantry marching toward the rifle pits we had passed a few minutes before. “Whew!” “Where's our cavalry?” I stammered, scarcely knowing what I was doing. “What cavalry?” asked a rebel sergeant, who was in charge of the advance guard of the column. “Hampton's?” “Off to the right.”