“Forward, march!” came the command, about the middle of the forenoon, a band ahead struck up the then popular Washington March, and off the columns moved, the men four abreast, every uniform carefully brushed up, each button polished, the bright red blankets carefully rolled, and each musket and bayonet glistening brightly in the morning light. It was a sight to inspire the most listless and Louis felt almost like singing, as he moved away on the long, swinging route step. Twelve miles were covered that day, and early in the morning the march was again resumed. But now the sun failed to shine and soon there started a light rain which by noon settled into a steady downpour. Louis threw his cape over his head, and shielded himself as much as possible, but the elements could not be fought off, and an hour later he was wet almost to the skin. “An umbrella wouldn’t be a bad thing to have,” Harry Bingham started in to say, when the report of a number of firearms cut him short. The rattle of the musketry sounded from ahead, and a moment later came the command to halt. The army was still some two miles and a half from Yorktown when the advanced guard had come upon some formidable earthworks stretched across the road and well into the woods beyond. As a matter of fact, the Confederate defences were afterwards found to stretch directly across the peninsula, from in front of Yorktown, as described, to Southall’s Landing. A sharp skirmish ensued between the advanced guard of the Union army and the Confederate outposts, and then the former fell back. “Something is up,” said Louis, when the orders finally came to go into camp. “And it’s not a battle, either.” He was right. Instead of making another demonstration, all became quiet, saving from the direction of Lee’s Mills, where the corps on the road from Newport News Point had also received a check. A regular camp was laid out, and the boys in blue proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as the state of the weather permitted. Early in the morning Benny Bruce, as bright and eager as ever, sounded the reveille, and the soldiers came tumbling out of their tents to listen to a few words from Captain Paulding. “This regiment is to march to the front, to do picket duty for twenty-four hours, from sunset to sunset. I wish all the men to remember that we are now in the very heart of the enemy’s country, and that each man must do his full duty. There must be no shirking from work, no nodding on post. Remember, a picket found asleep on his post is liable to be shot for his offense. Company will get ready to march in fifteen minutes.” “Hurrah, we’re going to the front at last!” cried Louis. “I’m glad of it,” and he started to pack up with all possible haste. Soon they were on the march, Benny beating his drum louder than ever, until stopped by a general order to keep quiet, as they were now within easy hearing distance of the Confederates.