The first expedition was to Pocotaligo, from there to Port Royal Ferry. We were lying quietly in camp with nothing to do but sleep, eat, drill and run about the country, when a courier came dashing up to the headquarters bringing information of the Yankees landing at Port Royal Ferry and marching towards Pocotaligo, to cut the railroads, said to be several thousand strong, with orders for us to repair immediately to Pocotaligo to resist the advance. I happened to be on guard at the time in camp and was in a state of mental excitement, bordering on to madness for fear I would be left in camp and would not get to go, but I soon got a substitute to stand guard in my place and let me go. Pocotaligo was 50 miles distance, but a train of cars soon being ready for us we went like the wind and soon arrived there about sunset in the evening. As we landed the cavalry pickets came up saying the enemy were retreating, after being driven back my our small body of cavalry in a spirited skirmish, with some loss on both sides and several Yankee prisoners. Nevertheless, we immediately started in pursuit. The enemy had been within a mile of Pocotaligo when they retreated. We marched very fast without stopping to rest once until about ten at night and had marched some ten or twelve miles without seeing the enemy. Taking up lines of march again after a short rest we went some three miles further, when seeing no hope of overtaking the enemy we were ordered to halt and stop for then night in a large mansion. But our imaginations were not to stop here. Our company and Captain Culps of our Regiment were ordered to proceed to a bridge, and if possible to intercept the march of the enemy, and defend our rear from a night attack. Accordingly, feeling the full force of the old proverb, there is no rest for the weary, we again started for the bridge, said to be 3 miles distance, but we, by the route we went, soon found it out to be nearer 6 than 3 miles. We marched along in silence, not allowed to speak aloud, suffering greatly from want of water, nothing was to be heard but our own dull, heavy tramp, the command of our officers, the hoot of the owl, the cry of the whippoorwill, and the black darkness of the night, all conspired to effect each one of us with thrilling interest, every moment expecting to see a body of Yankee oppose us; but none appeared. It may be as well to state here the whole detachment was under the command of Captain Avery of my company and to no one could the trust have been better given. He was in every way qualified to carry out the enterprise, as he is to carry out any that can be given him. He was nobly aided by the other officers also. We advanced very cautiously, constantly keeping an advance guard in front and rear guard behind. Just at this time an incident occurred which served to increase the interest of us all. Captain Avery caught a horse standing in the middle of the road, riderless, but with saddle, bridle and sword of the owner buckled to him. We did not know what to make of it. Was it the horse of an enemy, who by our close pursuit had been compelled to abandon it, and if so, were not more about, and such like idle surmises, but the mystery was cleared up the following day as I will show you in time. We grew more cautious after this, but marched on until at last we arrived at the bridge over a small river about two o’clock at night, fatigued, sleepy and hungry. Here upon the edge of the march we halted and, after stationing guards on the bridge and in our rear, tumbled down on our arms and were soon sound asleep with one blanket over us. When we arose in the morning, we were wet with dew, but building fires we soon got dry and the searching our haversacks for something to eat, which we found very scarce, and as the day were soon out entirely. About nine o’clock in the morning we took up line of march and crossed the bridge, intending to form a junction with the regiment at the crossroads. We pursued our route and arrived at the crossroads and there we found a key to the mystery of the horse. On the side of the road, in a little ditch, lay the ready body of Dr. Goddard, a member of the Rutledge Mounted Riflemen1, shot thru and thru by the enemy who had waylaid him and shot him from the bushes by the wayside, and that was his horse that we caught. Here we joined the regiment and fell into our place and pushed on to Port Royal in pursuit, which was five miles distance, but were too late. We arrived at the ferry just in time to give the enemy a parting salute with our cannon causing them to scamper out of the way in double quick time. The enemy was driven back but no fight of any consequence had taken place. We were woefully fatigued, hungry and sore, but it would not do for us to stay there, and we were ordered to return. We commenced the march about ten o’clock in the morning and hour after we trod along the sandy road under a burning sun, with sore feet and mouths dry with thirst, sometime I pull off my shoes and took it barefoot, but the hot sand compelled me to put them on again. We still persevered, some broke down, but at length the long looked for railroad came into sight. I have often thought this one of the hardest marches I ever took, being about 45 miles, with hardly any rest, under a burning sun. At Pocotaligo a train of cars carried us back to Camp Simon where we soon rested from all our toils.
1http://www.sciway3.net/sc-reserves/ot/smartilleryhorse.html