Dick felt a mixture of chagrin and satisfaction as he crossed the river,
chagrin that this great army should draw back, as McClellan's had been
forced to draw back at the Seven Days, and satisfaction that they were
safe for the time being and could prepare for a new start.
But the feeling of exultation soon passed and gave way wholly to chagrin.
They were retreating before an army not exceeding their own, in numbers,
perhaps less. They had another great force, the Army of the Potomac,
which should have been there, and then they could have bade defiance to
Lee and Jackson. The North with its great numbers, its fine courage and
its splendid patriotism should never be retreating. He felt once more as
thousands of others felt that the hand on the reins was neither strong
nor sure, and that the great trouble lay there. They ought not to be
hiding behind a river. Lee and Jackson did not do it. Dick remembered
that grim commander in the West, the silent Grant, and he did not believe
he would be retreating.
Long after darkness came the firing continued between skirmishers across
the stream, but finally it, too, waned and Dick was permitted to throw
himself upon the ground and sleep with the sleeping thousands.
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