George H. Gordon, From Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain

From the multitude of despatches and orders that poured fast and furious upon me, it was evident that a battle was imminent, and that I was expected to push on to be in time to take a hand. When I reached Winchester it was late in the evening. I had done two days work in one,had marched twenty-six miles. Banks was at Middletown. There had been a fight; Shields's division had whipped Jackson, who was now being pursued by Banks, and the urgent calls upon me were to aid in the pursuit. I sent a messenger to Banks (twelve miles) to announce my arrival, and he, on the morning of the 25th, ordered me to report to him at Strasburg. It was apparent the fight with Jackson was not to be renewed at once. There was still a little daylight left, as with my staff I entered Winchester on the evening of the 24th; and I improved it, to ride with my aid over the field on which we had gained a decided victory. The wounded of both sides had been removed; but the dead still lay where they fell. Along the enemy's lines the ground was covered with them. The coming shades of twilight in the thick woods rendered everything obscure. To a novice the scene was awful. As they were when stricken, so in death the dead remained: the clenched hand, the uplifted arm, the effort to stanch a bleeding limb, the solitude, the dreary light,it was a picture I cannot forget; and yet to add to its horror, amidst this deathly silence, I heard a voice invoking curses on the dead.

Peering into the darkness, I saw a man on horseback, slowly moving towards me, with head bowed low, gazing sternly into those upturned ghastly faces, while angry