The Confederate army could not have possibly reached the vicinity of the Potomac River opposite Washington City before the next day, and then not before noon. Here all approaches were well fortified, mounted with siege guns and manned, and the capture of Washington would have been an impossibility. So then, away with the cry then raised by bomb-proof generals in editors' chairs a hundred miles or more away, and, as has been since often repeated, that "if Johnston and Beauregard had pursued, or if Jeff Davis, who came upon the scene of action late in the afternoon, had not prevented a pursuit, Washington could have been captured and the war then and there ended." I did not believe then, have not since, nor now believe, that any such thing could have been accomplished. And above and far beyond all opinions and speculations on this question is the fact, that Joseph E. Johnston, G. T. Beauregard, and Jefferson Davis were all on the ground, and if these three men, with all their experience, wisdom and information did not know what was the right thing to do, who could, would, or should have known? In this battle the losses were nothing like as large as expected, when all was summed up. The Confederate loss was estimated at a little less than four hundred killed and not quite fifteen hundred wounded. The enemy lost about five hundred killed, one thousand wounded, and about fifteen hundred prisoners. The Confederates captured many pieces of cannon, thousands of small arms, accoutrements, camp equipage, etc. GATHERING THE SPOILS On the next day, the 22d of July, Longstreet's Brigade was detailed to scour the country between Centreville and the Stone Bridge to secure the cast-away arms and equipments the Yankees left in their wild flight from the battlefield. The whole brigade was deployed, as if in skirmish line, on either side of the Warrenton turnpike, converging as it moved on to the crossing at the Stone Bridge. The greater part of the day was spent in picking up muskets, cartridge-boxes, belts, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, coats, hats, blankets, etc. It was a dark, drizzly, foggy day, much of the way through second growth pines. I remember as we were crouching beneath the low-hanging branches of the pines late in the afternoon, some of Company C were considerably startled by a cry of "halt." It proved to be a little Yankee soldier, a mere youth, who was hatless and had been wounded in the head, which was bound up with a bloody bandage. He had been in hiding since the day before in the pine thicket, presenting a forlorn appearance as he crept out from his hiding place. He had called out "halt," doubtless from habit formed while on guard duty, to attract attention. He was not badly wounded and was taken along and turned over to the provost guard who had charge of the prisoners.