The morning after the battle of Manassas all seemed chaos, or confusion worse confounded. The cold, disagreeable rain that had set in during the night still continued, and the troops were provided with no means to shelter themselves from the pitiless storm which raged; and to add to this discomfort, the commissary wagons could not be found, and the men were almost entirely without provisions. Staff officers were galloping in every direction, looking for regiments that had been lost on the march of the night before, and it seemed for a while as though the utmost efforts of the general officers and their assistants would never be able to restore order out of all this muddle. All day long this state of affairs continued. We had gained a great battle, it was true, and had we continued the pursuit, the command would have remained intact to a great degree; but the demoralizing effects of countermarching an army in the moment of victory were here strongly evidenced. The impression had gained ground that an opportunity had been let slip to deal the enemy a fatal blow, and therefore dissatisfaction was expressed on every side, and more than once I heard it said that “if we had not intended following up what successes we might meet with, there was but little gained in fighting the battle.” Towards evening something like order seemed restored, and we waited in momentary expectation of hearing the command “Forward.” But night came on, and we were still idly facing the pelting rain. Shivering, shaking, and wretched, the troops threw themselves upon the wet ground to await the morrow. At midnight we were aroused by the rattle of the kettle-drum calling us to arms, and never did men more readily respond to the summons. An order had been received for the First Maryland and the Third Tennessee to accompany Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, with cavalry and artillery, to Fairfax Court House. The night was intensely dark, and our progress was, therefore, necessarily slow. For hours we toiled through the deep mud, stumbling and falling over rocks, stumps and logs, and mistaking our way every mile, when at daylight we struck the turnpike leading to Alexandria, and but six miles from where we had started. The rain had now ceased, the clouds grew lighter and lighter, and presently the wind springing up, they were sent fleeting, and dancing, and skipping across heaven’s blue face, to be seen no more, we trusted, for many days to come. Never before had the glorious sun been more heartily welcomed by suffering humanity than it was that morning as it rose with silent majesty in the eastern sky. Never before had it appeared so lovely, never risen with such stately grandeur; and, as we gazed in its full, bright face, and began to feel its warm breath envelop us, we forgot all the sufferings and privations of the past thirty-six hours, and were made as happy as we had just before been miserable.