on to grand division headquarters, and reached there soon after dark. I called on the adjutant general, and stated our business, but he said it was after office hours, and General — (our grand division commander) had given orders not to be disturbed-he was engaged. I asked him where the general was-our business was urgent-involved life or death, probably-and couldn't we possibly see him? He pointed us to a large tent, and said we could do as we pleased, but he advised us to return next day. As this would involve staying at Acquia Creek or Washington over Sunday, and cost two or three days, and might prove fatal to his son, the father objected, and so we made bold to approach the general's tent and knock, when we found him "engaged" in a game of cards with two other major generals, and a bottle of "commissary" between them, of course!

I apologized for the interruption, and, introducing myself and the father, stated our business briefly, but I was cut short with the curt reply that it was too late for business, and we must return next day. I tried to explain, and persisted, but was again rebuffed; and as we retired from "the presence" of this distinguished major general, the father's heart sank within him. We mounted our horses and rode dejectedly away-all our hard work for nothing! But, suddenly, I remembered Hooker, and broke out with: "Let's go up to headquarters, and see General Hooker. I know it is unmilitary to go there without the approval of the grand division commander. But let's go up there and see Hooker anyhow, and see if he won't cut 'red tape' and grant this 'leave,' under the circumstances."

And so we rode on to headquarters-got there along. toward midnight of a dark and dismal night—and found General Hooker still in his office tent, hard at work over his correspondence. As his sentry halted

us, Hooker recognized my voice, and called out through the tent door cheerily: "Come in, Rusling! Sentry, it is all right! Let 'em come in!" And so we went in, and told our story briefly, pretty much as above-"with naught extenuate and naught set down in malice"-and when we got through, the grand old man—his face flushed and eyes blazing-exclaimed: "Where is the paper? Let me have it. I'll show General — a 'leave' can be granted without his approval, in a case like this."

And so he took the application, and indorsed the "leave" upon it, in his own handwriting, with verbal orders to report it to the adjutant general (poor Seth Williams). Thanking him for his kindness, we bowed ourselves out and rode happily back to our own headquarters.

And this, too, was "just like General Hooker." And it was just such fine acts of chivalry and courtesy, that endeared him to everybody that came in contact with him-civilians as well as soldiers.

left

Perhaps I should add, that Lieutenant V next morning, carried on a stretcher to the railroad at Falmouth, and, after an absence of a month or so, recovered and returned to duty; but soon had to resign, and subsequently died of this same army disability, or its sequences.

And so, O General Hooker-good friend, brave heart, generous soul, great commander-hail and farewell!

66

CHAPTER VI

GEORGE G. MEADE

My next commander, and always highly esteemed, was General Meade. He was a West Pointer also, and by birth a Pennsylvanian. He had served with credit in Mexico, and stood high in the Engineer Corps of the Regular Army. His first command during the Civil War, I think, was a brigade of Pennsylvania Reserves, from which he was duly promoted to division and corps commander and rank of major general. He fought well on the Peninsula, he distinguished himself at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, and when in June, 1863, Lee was invading Pennsylvania, and it was decided to relieve General Hooker, Mr. Lincoln naturally turned to Meade, because, in addition to other qualifications, he was also a Pennsylvanian. Evidently "Old Abe" thought there was going to be hard fighting up there in Pennsylvania, and who so likely to defend her well as a gallant son of her own soil?

General Meade was then tall and slender, gaunt and sad of visage, with iron-gray hair and beard, ensconced behind a pair of spectacles, and with few popular traits about him, but with a keen and well-disciplined intellect, a cool and sound judgment, and by both education and temperament was every inch a soldier. He surely had need to be all this; for in three days after assuming command, Gettysburg was precipitated upon him, with all its awful cares and tremendous responsibilities. How well he met these, and how much he deserved the proud title of "Conqueror of Gettysburg," is now matter of history. His stout fight there is one of the great