The fighting in our front ceased about ten o’clock and we were moved about two miles to the left. In the afternoon we settled down in some woods and were permitted to take the rest we so much needed, and the next morning we were a jolly lot as we sipped our coffee and nibbled hardtack. Some of the men grumbled, however, because we did not get a chance to take a hand in the affair of the day before. The forces of Grant and Lee, numbering some 200,000, had been hammering away at each other for about ten days and the carnage had been great, but the forenoon of the day in mind was as quiet and peaceful as if there was not an armed man within ten miles. It was but the calm before a storm, and scores of our regiment who were so full of life and hope that bright May morning were weltering in their blood before sundown. About two o’clock in the afternoon an orderly with foam-covered horse rode up to our colonel and handed him a message. The men noticed that the color came to the officer’s face and they held their breath for the command that they knew was coming. Gracey, our little Swiss bugler, who was selected by Gen. Hancock a few weeks later to sound the charge for the Second Corps at Cold Harbor because his bugle could be heard farther than any other, blew a blast on his silver trumpet that brought every man to his feet and in less than five minutes the Second Heavy were standing in line at “attention.” The colonel rode out in front of the regiment and said “men of the Second New York, the time has come when you will have an opportunity to show your mettle. Keep together; don’t let your lines be broken; keep cool; obey orders and you will be all right.” The men started a cheer for the colonel, but he motioned silence. Then came the command “Fours right, march!” We soon came to a nice smooth road which ran through the woods and then we got orders to “double quick.” Then we heard heavy musketry firing which increased in volume continually and we thought the whole rebel army were taking a hand in. The boys in the ranks made sundry comments as we rushed along, such as “Guess we’ll get initiated this afternoon.” “Wouldn’t you like to be back in the forts now?” “Keep step there, Jimmy.” Jimmy West was a little Irishman who could never keep step. When we emerged from the woods into a large open field we could see a long line of battle on a hillside probably half a mile away. Our regiment was quickly formed in column by battalions, our colors unfurled, and as we double quicked across that field 1,500 strong, with perfect alignment as if it were a review, it was thrilling, inspiring and to have been there was to have the scene fixed in one’s memory forever. Other regiments besides our own were hurrying to the front. Batteries of artillery went by with the horses on the gallop and the drivers lashing them just as you have seen them in pictures.