The crossing of the river had been arranged for the early evening, the Fourth Corps moving first into the short line on the south of the river; and when this was done, I was to march two brigades of my division through the lines and across the river to the north bank by the pontoon bridge. There were delays in the change of position by the Fourth Corps, and it was past midnight when I was notified that they were in place and commenced my own movement. At that time a rain-storm had set in which made our whole operation uncomfortable in the wet and darkness, but especially the seeking a bivouac for the troops after we got over the river. We halted the men and parked the trains about a mile from the bridge at three o'clock. [Footnote: _Id_., p. 358.] I had a tent roughly pitched, and got a little sleep, but was roused at daybreak by musket firing, which sounded as if it were right among us. I sprang up with the feeling that I had been caught napping in a double sense; but a little examination showed that the enemy's pickets and our own were skirmishing on the other side of the river. The Confederates had pushed in a reconnoissance to find out what we had been at, and in the damp air the sound of the firing on the opposite bank where the flank of our new line rested was so loud and seemed so close that it had deceived me. The remainder of our little army was brought over in the night of the 27th, and on the 28th Forrest's cavalry was over the upper fords of the river, pushing back our mounted troops and covering the laying of a pontoon bridge at Davis's ford, five or six miles above Columbia, where Hood's principal column of infantry crossed next day.