As Captain Murray had the right of the battalion by seniority, I directed him, for the present, to take command of that wing whilst I looked after the important position I had taken at right angles with him after we had carried the enemy’s breastworks, and to inform General Steuart, if he should see him, where I was, and how I was situated. I had scarcely returned, when the enemy opened again with increased fury, but as the brigade was now sheltered behind the log breastworks and immense rocks that covered the hill, their fire did but little execution. The men were directed to fire at the flash from their muskets, and from the shouts of “stop that firing, you are shooting your own men,” I was convinced it was with effect. They must have been new troops, ordered from another point, as they did not seem to be aware of the change that had taken place in their front. Many came into our lines to remonstrate with us, and found themselves prisoners. An incident of this kind occurred here, which, under different circumstances, would have afforded some amusement. Captain Torsch, of Company E, whose gallantry had been conspicuous during the evening, whilst urging his men to fire as rapidly as possible, was approached by a Federal officer and peremptorily ordered to cease. The Captain had received no instructions to obey officers in blue uniforms, and he therefore declared “he’d be d—d if he would,” and seizing the astonished “lover of the Union” by the throat, dragged him into my presence, and demanded in an excited manner that I should “give him the devil for coming inside our lines and interfering with him in the discharge of his duties.” The fellow was dreadfully scared, and begged piteously to be sent to the rear, as he “did not wish to be shot by his own men.” Another, somewhat similar, occurred shortly after, in which the author was a party. Whilst directing the firing, I was approached by an officer on horseback, and asked how “the fight was going?” I saw his mistake directly, and telling him I did not know, walked towards his horse’s head to take him by the bridle. As I did so his suspicions must have been aroused, for he inquired “What corps is this?” “A Rebel corps, sir, and you are my prisoner!” I exclaimed, presenting a pistol to his breast. With perfect self-possession he dismounted, and unbuckling his belt handed it to me with sword and pistol attached, playfully remarking as he did so, “Take them, sir, they are yours, and fairly won.” He proved to be Lieutenant Egbert, a staff officer, who in carrying a dispatch had become lost in the darkness. By ten o’clock the firing had ceased, and the men rested upon their arms, prepared to repel an attack at an instant’s warning. The officers were required to remain awake during the night, and a vigilant line of pickets kept a watchful eye in the direction of the enemy, who were but fifty yards distant. They were also on the alert, as we were assured by an occasional volley of musketry.