within I glanced curiously about the bare room, noting its occupants, and their rude surroundings. It was a rough appearing, commonplace interior, the log walls once whitewashed, but now streaked with dirt, the only furniture visible a few home-made chairs, and an ordinary kitchen table. A sturdy fire burned in the fireplace, and three lamps illumined the scene, revealing the presence of five men, among whom I instantly recognized Ewell, Ashby, together with Jackson, and his chief of staff. The fifth occupant of the room sat alone in one corner, his face partially concealed, revealing little other than a fringe of gray whiskers. Jackson and his aide were seated behind the table, which was littered with papers and maps, and as the former glanced up, at the announcement of the orderly, I came instantly to attention, my hand lifted in salute. The general's stern blue eyes surveyed me intently.
"Sergeant Wyatt, Staunton Artillery?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long, may I ask, have you been in the service?"
"Since May, '61, sir."
"Ah! indeed. And your age?"
"Twenty-four, sir."
He made some remark aside to the aide, who nodded back, and pointed to a map before them.
