Several regiments had been forwarded, and all were impatiently awaiting their turn, when we met with a disaster that threw a damper over all, and well nigh lost us the first battle of Manassas. The engineers of two of the trains were Yankees, who had been in the employ of the company for a long time. These men, true to their natural instincts and training, treacherously concocted a plan to collide their trains and thereby delay the troops of Johnston so much needed by Beauregard; and totally regardless of the consequences that might ensue to the hundreds of brave men placed at their mercy, consummated their wicked designs. Fortunately but few were hurt, and none killed; but an engine and train were destroyed, and the road so blockaded and injured that the utmost efforts of the large force immediately set to work failed to put it in running order before next morning. The loss of this train was a severe blow to us, as we now had but two trains left. However, on the morning of the 21st of July these two resumed their trips, and each had made a successful run when, in making the second, the engine of the hindmost train—upon which was Kirby Smith’s brigade—broke down, and we were consequently delayed until the return of the first engine, some two hours and a half. The battle had been raging since morning, and the whole of the army should have reached Beauregard the evening before, whereas barely two-thirds had joined him at the close of the fight. It was nearly one o’clock when we disembarked at Manassas, where we found an officer of Johnston’s staff awaiting with an order for us to push forward with all possible dispatch. Hastily throwing off their knapsacks, the troops struck across the country in the direction of the smoke of battle and the sound of artillery, which could now be plainly seen and heard. Not a breath of air was stirring, and the heat and dust were almost suffocating; but on, on we went, sometimes slacking our pace to a walk to recover breath, but never halting until we had made four miles and were within a mile of the battle-field. Here we stopped but for a minute to allow the men to fill their canteens out of a muddy little stream, when the march was resumed at the same rapid gait, the gallant Smith at our head, encouraging us to “push on.” As we neared the field, we knew by the rapid discharges of artillery and the incessant rattle of musketry, that the fight was being stubbornly contested. We presently began to meet the wounded, one of whom to our inquiry as to how the fight was going, answered, “Go on, boys, go on; but I’m afeared you’ll be too late, for I’m thinkin’ they’re licken of us. But go on; there’s no tellin.”