as the war could only last a few days longer, anyhow.  I kept them prisoners, and turned them over to General Sheridan after the surrender.  I at once sent the information to General Lee, and a short time afterward received orders to go to his headquarters.  That night was held Lee’s last council of war.  There were present General Lee, General Fitzhugh Lee, as head of the cavalry, and Pendleton, as chief of the artillery, and myself.  General Longstreet was, I think, too busily engaged to attend.

General Lee then exhibited to us the correspondence he had had with General Grant that day, and asked our opinion of the situation.  It seemed that surrender was inevitable.  The only chance of escape was that I could cut a way for the army through the lines in front of me.  General Lee asked me if I could do this.  I replied that I did not know what forces were in front of me; that if General Ord had not arrived—­as we thought then he had not—­with his heavy masses of infantry, I could cut through.  I guaranteed that my men would cut a way through all the cavalry that could be massed in front of them.  The council finally dissolved with the understanding that the army should be surrendered if I discovered the next morning, after feeling the enemy’s line, that the infantry had arrived in such force that I could not cut my way through.

My men were drawn up in the little town of Appomattox that night.  I still had about four thousand men under me, as the army had been divided into two commands and given to General Longstreet and myself.  Early on the morning of the ninth I prepared for the assault upon the enemy’s line, and began the last fighting done in Virginia.  My men rushed forward gamely and broke the line of the enemy and captured two pieces of artillery.  I was still unable to tell what I was fighting; I did not know whether I was striking infantry or dismounted cavalry.  I only know that my men were driving them back, and were getting further and further through.  Just then I had a message from General Lee, telling me a flag of truce was in existence, leaving it to my discretion as to what course to pursue.  My men were still pushing their way on.  I sent at once to hear from General Longstreet, feeling that, if he was marching toward me, we might still cut through and carry the army forward.  I learned that he was about two miles off, with his face just opposite from mine, fighting for his life.  I thus saw that the case was hopeless.  The further each of us drove the enemy the further we drifted apart, and the more exposed we left our wagon trains and artillery, which were parked between us.  Every line either of us broke only opened the gap the wider.  I saw plainly that the Federals would soon rush in between us, and then there would have been no army.  I, therefore, determined to send a flag of truce.  I called Colonel Peyton of my staff to me, and told him that I wanted him to carry a flag of truce forward.  He replied: