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The promulgation of the general order directing our departure for the South was received with cheers. Breaking camp was immediately begun, the loading of horses and equipment on the train being accomplished with the dexterity of a troop of regulars. All along the route the train met with an ovation. There was waving of flags and handkerchiefs, bells were tolled, and the shrill whistles of factories welcomed the boys on to the front. Arriving at Falls Church, Virginia, we at once set to work unloading our horses and accoutrements of war, which was accomplished with almost insuperable difficulty, due to our having reached our destination at night and in a blinding rain-storm.

Among the members of our troop was a Swedish Count, and at this point I recall a little incident which it will not be amiss to relate. We had unloaded our horses and were awaiting orders, when the Count approached me and said:

““Bill, ven do ve eat?”

““I guess we don’t eat, Count,” I replied; “these are the horrors of war.”