I was taken prisoner at Berryville, Va., on August 13th, 1864, at 4 A. M., together with James Ghormley, Edward Armstrong, Eldridge Whipple and George Fix, with one man by the name of Sayre of Co. P. These are all that I can recall now. We were cooking coffee by the roadside when all at once we heard the report of a cannon and the shell burst just over our heads and came down through the branches of the trees we were under. At that moment four hundred of Mosby’s mounted guerrillas came down on us demanding our money, watches, jewelry or anything else of value we had on our person. I had one dollar and forty cents. They told me to give them the dollar and I could keep the forty cents, as I would need that before we got back, which I found was the gospel truth. That rebel was honest, anyhow. They ordered us each to mount a mule and carry a six pound shell in each hand until we crossed the Shenandoah river and then they would provide some other way to carry them. I was riding a small mule and when about the middle of the stream myself, mule and shells dropped into a hole, and the shells are now lying on the bottom of the Shenandoah river. When we got across a rebel sergeant asked me where my shells were. I told him I did not know. He replied “I will report you to Col. Mosby and you will have to pay for them.” That would be the first whack at my lone forty cents. I heard no more about it until noon, when they drew us up in line to count us. The sergeant asked “who is you all men that lost the shells in the river?” Nobody knew anything about any shells and he did not recognize me. He said to me, “You look like the man” but of course I did not know anything about his old shells. That is the last I heard of them. Our dinner the first day was one loaf of bread cut in four pieces for four men. I can say that none of us had to let out our trouser straps. We marched thirty miles the first day and were pretty well tired out by night, when they issued to each of us one pint of flour. This we mixed with water and slapped it on a flat stone, which we propped up opposite the fire and baked it. This tasted good to us but I am afraid it would not pass muster at the Waldorf Astoria. Armstrong said he could not eat his without butter, but we told him his complexion would be better if he would abstain from butter. Finally he concluded that we were right and let it go at that. A Lieutenant came along and asked how we were making out. We told him that we were perfectly delighted with the menu. He said “I am glad you have nothing to complain of.” The next day’s ride took us to Culpepper C. H., the bracing air of Virginia still keeping our appetites in fine shape. No breakfast this morning but had a bounteous feast at noon. They cut a loaf in two for two men. It tasted good while it lasted but the time seemed so short.