Scarcely had we breathed ourselves, when word was passed that we were to retire at dark, and that we must do so very quietly, without noise or gun rattling, even the tin cups and plates of the men must be so placed in their haversacks as not to give out the monotonous clinking that usually tells that a line of troops is on the march. Then a little latter we stole through the dark woods, leaving Colonel Plaisted with a thousand men of various commands to cover our retreat to a new position. This change of position, or "contraction of the line" as the military historians call it, was rendered necessary to let Mott's division march away to Petersburgh to take the place of the Ninth Corps in the intrenchments there, so that Corps could support Warren's movement on the Weldon road. Nothing of interest took place in the remainder of the movement, and finally, after a few days spent in skirmishing and reconnoitering in the unrealized hope that a weak spot might be discovered in the enemy's line, we fell back to the river; the Second Corps and Gregg's cavalry went to Petersburgh, and we returned to our camp at Deep Bottom. We had been away from it a week, a week of disaster to the regiment, and especially to D, for nineteen of the best men of the company had been killed or wounded during it--one half of its available duty members--and as its thin line filed into the familiar company street those that remained behind gave it a sober greeting, looking sadly for the many familiar faces they would never see again, it is no wonder the eyes of all were dimmed, or that emotional tenderhearted Sergeant Francis should break into tears of manly mourning. We slept the deep sleep of exhaustion in our rude canvas homes that night, but the next night, in the early darkness, the regiment was suddenly ordered to fall in and the men soon found themselves across the ponton bridge and on the road to Bermuda Hundred. Then it was whispered that we were on our way to take part in an assault to be made on the Howlett House Battery at daybreak. It is not strange that we were more surprised than gratified at this proof of confidence in our assaulting abilities, nor is it to be wondered at that the men murmured wrathfully at the idea of assaulting so strong an intrenched position as they knew the Howlett House one to be, armed with heavy guns, and always strongly supported. But for all their hopelessness they would have dashed forward none the less gallantly at the word of command, for they had seen too many dead men lately to fear death greatly, or to hope that if Richmond was to be taken they could long escape him; in short, had about adopted the philosophy of the old Confederate Colonel, who, in Magruder's desperate charge at Malvern Hill, was heard to shout to his shrinking men, "Forward men, Forward! Do you expect to live forever?" But we were not put to the test, for while we were yet _en route_ a galloping aid