We marched rapidly up the turnpike until we had passed Woodstock, three miles from our encampment, and were within two miles of the enemy before we were overtaken by the cavalry, under command of Jones in person. He ordered us to halt and form line of battle, whilst he pressed forward to ascertain the number and character of the Federal forces. In a short time we were startled by a volley of small arms and the wild yell which we knew too well came from our men in the charge. It was not long before prisoners began to come to the rear in large numbers, and we were assured that it had been successful. The General had encountered the Twelfth and Thirteenth Pennsylvania cavalry, and at one charge, with an inferior force, scattered them to the four winds, capturing, killing, and wounding over three hundred of them. Although the troops were without shelter the whole winter, except such as they could erect out of brush and leaves, there was scarcely any sickness, and a hardier set of men I never saw. It was demonstrated to our entire satisfaction that tents were not fit for troops in winter, as the winter before we had tried them for a while in the First Maryland, and much more sickness prevailed. It was some time in April, 1863, that General Jones determined to make a raid upon the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad in the neighborhood of New Creek and Cheat River. The Second Maryland was to accompany the expedition as far as Moorefield, between sixty and seventy miles distant, to bring back the wagon train, which could accompany them no further, and to gather up stores of every kind to be found in that rich and fertile valley. It was a lovely morning that we left our camp, and although the roads were bad we made good progress the first two days. On the third day, however, the rain commenced to pour down in torrents. It was a cold, sleety rain, and about as disagreeable a one as it had ever been my misfortune to encounter. On we pressed, though, fording rapid streams waist deep and climbing immense ranges of mountains. By three or four o’clock of the third day we had reached the summit of the last range, at the foot of which lay the beautiful town of Moorefield. Suddenly the wind sprung up, the clouds and mist disappeared, and away off in the distance lay this magnificent valley, one of the most enchanting spots in West Virginia. I was perfectly charmed, and for a long while gazed upon the scene before me in silent admiration. That night we went into camp within two miles of the town, and next morning moved a portion of the command into the place, whilst the remainder encamped upon its suburbs. General Jones finding it impossible to cross the river at Moorefield, moved up to Petersburg with his cavalry, where a crossing was effected.