One man alone had worked the miracle and as his enemies had truly said his presence was worth ten thousand men.
His coming had been dramatic.

He had spent the night quietly at Winchester, but, early in the morning, he had heard the sounds of firing which steadily grew louder.

Apprehensive, he rode at once toward the distant field, and, before he had gone two miles, he met the first stragglers, bringing wild tales that the army had been routed, and that the Southerners were hot on their heels.

Sheridan rode rapidly now.
He met thicker streams of fugitives, but turned them back toward the enemy, and when he finally came upon the field itself he brought with him all the retreating regiments.
Dick never beheld a more thrilling and inspiring sight than that which occurred when Sheridan galloped among them, swinging his hat in his hand.
"What troops are these ?" he had asked.
"The Sixth Corps!" hundreds of voices shouted in reply.
"We are all right! We'll win!" cried Sheridan.
And then, as he galloped along the line he added: "Never mind, boys, we'll whip 'em yet! We'll whip 'em yet! We'll sleep in their quarters tonight!" The roar of cheering swept up and down the line again, and Sheridan and his officers began to prepare the restored army for a new battle.
All the time the Union numbers swelled, and, as the Southern army was hesitating, Sheridan was able to post his divisions as he pleased.
The Winchester regiment was drawn up towards the flank.

All the officers were still on foot, but they stood a little in front, ready to lead their men into the new battle.