Since re-crossing the Rappahannock we have been on the move a good deal - marching up a lonely country road in the morning, only to march back down the very same road in the afternoon. This constant countermarching is particularly bothersome to soldiers, who dislike seeing the same scenery twice, as it puts them in mind of the many miles they have traveled. To the correspondent, these movements suggest a measure of confusion in the higher reaches of command that is deeply disturbing. McDowell's entire corps has been sidling across dusty Virginia roadways day-after-day, in stifling heat. to cover the approaches to Washington.

To our immense relief, we have encamped here near a country crossroads, on high ground, in order to catch what few breezes northern Virginia provides. Nearby also is Hood's Junction, a whistle stop on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. We'd have promptly torn up the tracks were it not for the hopes of Haupt's engineers to make this portion of the line serviceable to the Union.

We had been unable to locate any significant body of the opposing army. This pleasant fact made for what promised to be an unusually restful day in camp, in which even common soldiers might be seen lounging peacefully in the fields and about their tents, with only the customary fatigue duty to occupy them.

I spent much of the day with Doubleday's New Yorkers, as fine a brigade, when on the march, as I have seen for a while here. Nearby also is a brigade of Westerners, boys from Wisconsin for the most part. What they lack in polish is generously compensated for by their ability to stick in a fight. They appear to have that doggedness for which the race is noted. Whether descended from Angle, Saxon, Celt, or Teuton, these Wisconsin men have mastered what Emerson calls the English game of "main force to main force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and open field - a rough tug without trick or dodging, till one or both come to pieces."

Our pleasant country idyll was first disturbed late in the forenoon by a cry of terror. A stout Virginia woman from the town, called in desperation for help in finding her lost child. One of our sergeants immediately went in search of the child. He encountered two Rebel deserters, who joined in the search. This common act of humanity warmed all hearts. Neither of the men made any hostile move, their overriding concern focused wholly on the welfare of a little tender child, a boy of no more than three years. When found, thousands of throats were loosed in exultation. Such happy events as a loving mother re-united with her beloved child come rarely to soldiers. It seems the boy had wandered off, as boys that age are wont to do. The child's curiosity at the appearance of so many soldiers had gotten the better of his sense. The two Rebel deserters were taken into custody without fanfare. Their appearance suggested ominously that our foe was near. The two, ragged and dirty and without arms, told a story of walking dusty roads for many miles. They were quick to volunteer the information that Jackson's army was in retreat, and that they had employed the opportunity to quit their army and simply walk away. No one in camp was buying what the two men had to sell, nor our higher command, since they have had experience with Jackson's methods in the Shenandoah before. Such appearances usually signify that Jackson is on the move, and maneuvering so as to strike a blow.

Our blessed inactivity on what was such a fine day, was shattered by the persistent sound of musketry coming from our picket posts. As the afternoon wore on we heard the peppering of musket fire move closer to our encampment. Less than a mile off, the practiced ear could have no doubt that it was our pickets who were being driven in and that they would need further supports in order to safeguard our camp. Toward this end, three companies of the 2^nd Wisconsin Volunteers were rapidly assembled by the long roll and sent scurrying down the road to Hood Junction. They stepped aside as a pair of guns from Battery B, 4^th U.S. Regulars took to the same road at the gallop. I hastily snatched up my things. I followed as I was able, my horse being left behind unsaddled, at the opposite end of the camp.

When I arrived at the scene of battle, the two guns of Battery B were already engaged with a Rebel battery. It was immediately apparent that the Rebel guns had distinctly gotten the worst of the exchange and were being speedily driven off. One Rebel gun was taken in flank by a company of the 2^nd, its horses shot down so the piece could not be easily limbered or moved.

The Rebels were astride the road, near a small creek and bridge. We possessed the rail junction immediately in our rear. Our left flank was anchored in a farmer's woodlot, our right, along an extension of the rail line itself. An open meadow was immediately to our front. I'd hardly arrived when two companies of the 2^nd came at the double quick and went in hard on the Rebel right and bagged the whole lot. A company of Rebel infantry, and a few survivors from their artillery, were caught between our infantry and had suffered severely under a galling and steady lire from the guns of Battery B. While the surrender of the enemy was being arranged, three of them leaped over their entrenchments and made across the field. All three were shot down, in rapid succession, before they could go more than a few paces. The sight of the Rebel dead in such a pleasant meadow was such a melancholy contrast to the beauty of the place that even some of the most hardened soldiers among us were deeply affected.

Those prisoners we took were as brazen as pirates. They gleefully assured us that Jackson would have us yet. Their small force had been some sort of advance guard, sent forward to seize and hold both the road and railway line at Hood's Junction. Their presence had been aimed at securing the passage of the rest of the Rebel army through this place. Their sharp reverse here ought to convince Jackson to us an alternate route wherever he may be bound.

I called Captain Campbell of the artillery over to see a curious sight. There on a rail siding at the Junction were several cars, the abandoned rolling stock of the Orange & Alexandria line. We noted the forage for horses. A forage train had been brought here fully laden, and then largely emptied of its contents. The markings visible on the cars suggested the point of departure had been Gordonsville, or perhaps Culpeper, and that a Rebel train had been run up the line at night. It seems probable that some force of Confederate cavalry has been operating in this area, though we have not encountered them as of yet. No doubt, the cavalry are some of Stuart's or Mosby's people - the outer spiral arm of Jackson's force.

The men returned to camp, jubilant at their victory, but they soon turned quiet. They know a fight is coming - and coming soon. It took the delivery of three large mailbags to the Wisconsin boys to return smiles and contentment to their faces, as they lay about this evening in camp. Haupt is a genius. He has already managed to run in several trains here, which accounts for the appearance of the mail with its cheering news from home, and with packages containing little delicacies sent by relations anxious for their soldier boys to have some little comfort they do not find in army life.

General King says his division may march the rest of the way to Manassas Junction to join with the rest of the army. As this letter will not see print for some days, I can without fear or favor tell you of the movement of King's Division of McDowell's Corps. We may be going through Warrenton on the turnpike road. I'll no doubt have more to say soon.

The foregoing was written by Thomas Martin Sobottke, portraying New York Tribune War Correspondent, Samuel Wilkeson, and based on historical research, a certain creative license, and observations made directly on the field at the Green Bay Railway Museum, Green Bay, Wisconsin, on 12 and 13 August 2006.