At Hartwood Church the two wings of the Regiment were again united, and moved on the following day past Barnett’s to Kemper’s Ford. Mrs. Kemper and her daughter were the only inmates of their mansion, Mr. Kemper being “away,” which meant in the rebel army, and of the swarms of servants which no doubt once made the quarters lively, there remained only two or three small girls and an idiot man.
Our stay here was one of the bright spots of army experience. The location was delightful and the duty light. We had a detail on guard at the ford and pickets along the river bank; opposite to us on the other shore, and within talking distance, were the rebel pickets, but no shots were exchanged, and all was peaceful and quiet.
We had extended to the family such protection as common courtesy demanded, and when we were about to leave, a few of the officers called to say good-bye, and found the ladies distressed and in tears on account of our departure, or the dread of what might come afterwards. They told us that ours was the first Massachusetts regiment that had been stationed there; that they had been taught to believe that Massachusetts men were vile and wicked; “but,” said one of them, “we have received from no other soldiers such unvarying courtesy and consideration; we have discovered our mistake, and shall know how to defend them from such aspersions in the future.” Promising in reply to their urgency that, if taken prisoners and if possible, we would communicate with them, we took our leave, with the impression that it was well to treat even our enemies with kindness.
On the 9th of June occurred the engagement at Brandy Station, said at that time to be the greatest cavalry fight of the war, and the Regiment crossed the river and covered the approaches to the ford while the battle was in progress. They moved out about three miles in the direction of Culpepper Court House, but encountered no enemy, except a few straggling cavalry men, who fled at their approach.
Now the Regiment was kept continually on the _qui vive_, under orders to move at a minute’s notice, and be prepared for long and rapid marches.
Suddenly the enemy withdrew all his pickets from the river, and on the 13th of June we moved in the middle of the night, which was very dark, in the direction of Morrisville, and on the following night we reached Catlett’s, our division bringing up the rear of the army and guarding the wagon train. The weather had now become very summerlike, and the days were hot and sultry, and the roads heavy with dust. Again we were moving through that detestable Manassas country, that debatable land, now almost a desert; the soil uncultivated, trodden to powder, the fields overgrown with weeds, an arid waste where no water was and no food could be obtained, the breeze stifling one with the pungent odor of penny-royal, which pervaded everything.