ber 10, 1863; and every soldier, as he saw him, read that face and form as though it were an open book-yes, and read it in all its awful, dreadful meaning-and, reading, realized their full duty. He reaches our line, and is met by our brigade commander, Colonel Geo. F. Dick, as anxious to receive the orders as he is to give them. The command comes in quick, sharp words: "The general presents his compliments, and directs that you move your brigade at once to the support of General Beard. Take the road moving by the flank in double quick' to the left and into the woods, and go into line on the left of General Beatty's brigade. I am to direct you. Our men are hard pressed." The last sentence was all that was said in words as to the condition of our troops, but it told that we had read aright before he had spoken. Scarce had the order been delivered when the command to "take arms" is heard along the line, and to drivers and cannoneers to mount. It scarcely took the time required to tell it for our brigade to get in motion, moving off the field, the artillery taking the wagon road, the infantry alongside. It was a grand scene as we moved quickly into place, closing up the column, and waiting but a moment for the command. The guns are at a right shoulder, and all have grown eager for the order "Forward." The bugle sounds the first note of the command. Now, look along that column; the men are leaning forward for the start; you see the drivers on the artillery teams tighten the rein in the left hand, and, with the whip in the uplifted right arm, rise in their stirrups; and, as the last note of the bugle is sounded, the crack of the whips of thirty-six drivers over the backs of as many horses, and the stroke of the spurs, sends that battery of six guns and its caissons rattling and bounding over that road, while the infantry alongside are straining every nerve as they hasten to the relief of the comrades so hard pressed. The spirits of the men grow higher and higher with each moment of the advance. The rattling of the artillery and the hoof-beats of the horses add to the excitement of the onward rush, infantry and artillery thus side by side, vieing each with the other which shall best do his part. Now, as we come nearer, the storm of the battle seems to grow greater and greater. On and yet on we press, until, reaching the designated point, the artillery is turned off to the left, on to a ridge, and go into position along its crest, while the lines of the infantry are being formed to the right of the road over which we have just been hurrying. Our lines are scarcely formed, and the command to move forward given, when the lines which are in advance of us are broken by a terrific charge of the enemy, and are driven back in confusion onto our line-friend and foe so intermingled that we can not fire a shot without inflicting as much injury on our men as upon the enemy. Our artillery, on the crest of the ridge back of us, have unlimbered and gone into action, and their shells are now flying over our heads into the woods, where the enemy's lines had been. Confusion seems to have taken possession of our lines, and, to add to it, the lines of our right have been broken and the enemy are sweeping past our flank. The order is given to fall back on line with the artillery. Out of the wood, under the fire of our cannon, the men hasten. Now on the crest of that ridge, without works of any kind to shelter them, our troops are again hastily formed, and none too soon. Down the gentle slope of that ridge, and away to our right and left and front stretches an open field, without tree or shrub to break the force of the balls. In our front, and at the edge of the field, two hundred yards away, runs the road parallel with our lines; beyond the road the heavy timber where the Confederate lines are formed, and well protected in their preparations for their charge. Scarce had our lines been formed, when the sharp crack of the rifles along our front, and the whistling of the balls over our heads, give us warning that the advance of the enemy has begun, and in an instant the shots of the skirmishers are drowned by the shout that goes up from the charging column as it starts down in the woods. Our men are ready. The Seventh Indiana Batterysix guns-is on the right of my regiment; Battery M, Fourth United States Artillery, is on our left. The gunners and every man of those two batteries are at their posts of duty, the tightly drawn lines in their faces showing their purpose there to stand for duty or die. Officers pass the familiar command of caution along the line-"Steady, men, steady." The shout of the charging foe comes rapidly on; now they burst out of the woods and onto the road. As if touched by an electric cord, so quick and so in unison was it, the rifles leap to the shoulder along the ridge where waves the stars and stripes. Now the enemy are in plain view along the road covering our entire front; you can see them, as with cap visors drawn well down over their eyes, the gun at the charge, with short, shrill shouts they come, and we see the colors of Longstreet's corps, flushed with victory, confronting us. Our men recognize the gallantry of their foe, and their pride is touched as well. All this is but the work of an instant, when, just as that long line of gray has crossed the road, quick and sharp |