Company C marched on the right flank of the regiment in single file, and about fifty yards from the road, as skirmishers, moving silently along through the pines and bushes, the men five paces apart, looking out for the Yankees to the right, and expecting every moment to be fired upon by the enemy; a right ticklish position.
We got through, however, without being attacked. Hardly had the column passed before the Yankees came into the road we had marched over, firing upon the rearguard. The brigade was then halted and formed in line of battle, expecting an attack, but none came. The command in the afternoon moved on a little farther towards Richmond, occupying the lines between Drury's Bluff and the railroad, abandoning a line of breastworks, which the Yankees afterwards occupied.
During the next few days there was considerable fighting along the front lines, principally with artillery, but our regiment was not engaged.
The army lay here on this line until the night of the 15th of May. Late that afternoon, General Beauregard had orders given to all the officers, from the major-generals down to the company commanders, for an attack on the enemy's lines at daybreak the next morning.
I remember well, Col. Kirk Otey calling up all the company commanders of the Eleventh Regiment, and telling them that General Beauregard had determined to attack the enemy the next morning, and had ordered that the troops at dark march to positions to be assigned them in front of the enemy's lines, sleep on their arms, and at daybreak the next morning charge the breastworks in their front. This was an unusual order; the Commanding General did not often disclose his plans in this way.
And so it was done. Terry's Brigade was moved to the extreme left of the Confederate lines near Drury's Bluff. There the brigade lay in the thick pines with their guns by their sides until morning.
I have spent many more pleasant and less anxious nights than that one. Knowing that when the morning dawned we would have to face death in front of the enemy's breastworks was not very pleasant to contemplate, to say the least. Before daybreak on the morning of the 16th of May, 1864, the army was aroused and the men on their feet, ready to do or die. Many did die that morning, and something was done, too.