678 MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA AND THE CAROLINAS.

THE STORMING OF THE LITTLE SALKEIIATCHIE RIVER BY WEVEIt’S BRIGADE OK THEFIFTEENTH CORPS. FROM A WAR-TIME SKETCH.

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The effect of these peculiar watch-fires on everyside, several feet above the ground, with flameslicking their way up the tall trunks, was peculiarlystriking and beautiful. But it was sad to see thiswanton destruction of property, which, like thefiring of the resin pits, was the work of “ bummers,”who were marauding through the country com-mitting every sort of outrage. There was norestraint except with the column or the regularforaging parties. We had no communications,and could have no safeguards. The country wasnecessarily left to take care of itself, and becamea “howling waste.” The “coffee-coolers” of theArmy of the Potomac were archangels comparedto our “bummers,” who often fell to the tendermercies of Wheeler’s cavalry, and were neverheard of again, earning a fate richly deserved.

On arriving within easy distance of the CapeFear River , where we expected to communicatewith the navy, detachments were sent in rapidadvance to secure Fayetteville . Our division, aftera hard day of corduroying in various spots over adistance of twelve miles, went into camp for sup-per, and then, taking the plank-road for Fayette-ville , made a moonlight march of nine miles inthree hours, but our friends from the right wingarrived there before us.

Hardee retired to a good position at Averys-boro’, where Kilpatrick found him intrenchedand too strong for the cavalry to handle unas-sisted. It was the turn of our brigade to do specialduty, so at about 8 o’clock in the evening we wereordered to join the cavalry. We were not quite

sure it rained, but everything was dripping. Themen furnished themselves with pine-knots, and ourweapons glistened in the torch-light, a cloud . ofblack smoke from the torches floating back overour heads. The regimental wits were as ready asever, and amid a flow of lively badinage we toiledon through the mud.

When the column was halted for a few minutesto give us an opportunity of drawing breath, Ifound Sergeant Johnson with one arm in the mudup to the elbow. He explained that he was tryingto find his shoe. We floundered on for five miles,and relieved a brigade of Kilpatrick’s men whomwe found in some damp woods. There was a com-fort in clustering round their camp-fires, whilethey retired into outer darkness to prepare for themorning attack. But the cavalry fireside was onlya temporary refuge from the storm, for we also hadto depart into the impenetrable dai’kness beyond,to await in wet line of battle the unforeseen.Those who were exhausted sank down in the mudto sleep, while others speculated on the future.

The clear wintry dawn disclosed a long line ofblue-coats spread over the ground in motionlessgroups. This was the roaring torch-light brigadeof the night before. The orders “ Fall in!” “For-ward ! ” in gruff tones broke upon the chilly air, andbrought us shivering to our feet. We moved tothe edge of the woods with the cavalry. Theskirmish line, under Captain J. I. Grafton, had al-ready disappeared into the opposite belt of woods,and evidently were losing no time in developingthe enemy and ascertaining his force. They were