"They Had Their Muskets Leveled on Us..."

Saturday, May 24, 1862, in camp near Summit Station, Virginia

The rains have come and it is none too pleasant. The water falls more often and in greater amounts. Some of the boys had made shelters by digging a trench in the ground and erecting a raised covering of branches. Those are now small ponds. The rest of us bear on as best we can. Although it is spring here, it can still become rather chilly, especially at night. There is not a man in the company with an overcoat. If we were back in South Carolina, the weather would already be uncomfortably warm.

There are still raids and probing actions with patrols on foot and on horse. Our cavalry will sometimes pass through on their way to find out what the Yankees are up to. We stop and ask them for news.

One of Jeb Stuart's cavalry troopers from the Ninth Virginia said that the Yankees are still on the north side of the Rappahannock. Even so, we must be watchful as they come across to our side to do great mischief. I am sure that we do the same to them.

Once again, we decided to test our mettle against the Yankees and brave danger by conducting another raid of our own. It was not an approved government raid. We called it a private enterprise expedition and who better to mount it than us privates.

We remembered that during the last expedition, we had left behind one solitary hen. We thought that by this time, she surely will be sitting on a great many eggs and would appreciate some assistance in taking care of them. Under cover of a friendly darkness, we slipped away towards our goal. Our party was the same as last time, Castkes, Crenshaw, Holton and myself plus Duncan. As the original four of us had made this journey before, we had a faster and easier time of it. We still had to watch out for our own patrols and those of the enemy.

When we came to the still-abandoned farmstead, we could see the henhouse but heard nothing. Either the hen was asleep or someone else had befriended her in our absense. Duncan entered and came out shortly saying that there was no hen or any eggs. Of course we were disappointed to think that some evil might have befallen that poor hen and we were not there to protect her.
Even though the house had been searched during our last visit, we felt compelled to search again lest there be hams apleanty that somehow we had missed.

We treaded lightly up the front steps and froze like statues when we heard the cries of a chicken involved in some mortal terror. We threw caution to the winds and charged the door, muskets at the ready to dispatch the fox or coon or whatever other brutish animal who was attacking our friend.

Duncan entered first, followed by Crenshaw and then the rest of us. Castles was last in. There was neither fox nor coon. Instead, there was not one brutish animal but five, wearing blue uniforms. They had their muskets leveled on us the same as we on them. For a very long moment, no one said a word. One of the Yankees spoke first. "Hello, Rebs", he said. Duncan returned, "Hello, Yanks." The same Yankee said, "Reckon you're as hungry as we are." 'Reckon so, Yank. There's not enough there for you folks, never mind about us. We'll leave you alone and go find our own pickins somewheres else." They agreed that it was a good idea and we backed away out the doorway. Then Crenshaw tripped and fell down, discharging his musket.

None of us exactly recall what happened next. All we remember is that the Yankees were retreating out the back door about as fast as we were out the front. We made it back safely, even though the sound of our beating hearts could be heard a mile away. We do not know what happened to the hen.