The day had begun well, but we knew there was long and deadly work ahead.  We began to make protection.  Low piles of rails, covered with wheat-straw and earth dug up by bare hands, soon appeared along the line.  The protection was slight, yet by lying flat our bodies could not be seen.  On their side the Yankee skirmishers also had worked, and were now behind low heaps of rails and earth.  Practice-shooting began, and was kept up without intermission for hour after hour.

We lay in the broiling sun.  Orders came down the line for the men to be sparing with water.

From my pit I could look back and see the cupola of the Seminary—­could see through the cupola from one window to the other.  The Seminary was General Lee’s headquarters.

To our right and front was a large brick barn—­the Bliss barn.  Captain Haskell had been killed by a bullet fired from this barn.  It was five hundred yards from the pits of Company A.

The Bliss barn was held by the Yankees.  The skirmishers beyond the right of the battalion charged and took it.  A regiment advanced from the Federal side, drove our men off, and occupied the barn.  They began to enfilade the pits of Company A. All the while, we were engaged in front.

A shot from the barn killed Sergeant Rhodes.  Orders came down the line for me to take his place at the right of the company.

Since the day before, I had thought that I had one friend in Company A—­Rhodes.  Now Rhodes was dead.

We fired at the men who showed themselves at the barn—­right oblique five hundred yards.

We fired at the skirmishers behind the rail piles in front—­two hundred yards.

A man in a pit opposite mine hit my cartridge-box.  I could see him loading.  His hand was in the air.  I saw him as low as his shoulder.  I took good aim.  A question arose in my mind—­and again I thought of the Captain:  Am I angry with that man?  Do I feel any hatred of him?  And the answer came:  No; I am fighting for life and liberty; I hate nobody.  I fired, and saw the man no more.

Our men far to the right retook the barn.  Again the enemy recovered it.

Cartridges were running low.  Some brave men ran back to the line of battle for more cartridges.  The skirmishing was incessant.  Our losses were serious.  We had fought constantly from sunrise until past midday, and there was no sign of an ending.

At one o’clock a shell from our rear flew far above us, and then the devil broke loose.  More than a hundred guns joined in, and the air was full of sounds.  The Bliss barn was in flames.  The Federal batteries answering doubled the din and made the valley and its slopes a hell of hideous noises.  All of the enemy’s missiles went far over our heads; we were much nearer to the Federal artillery than to our own.  Some of our shells, perhaps from defective powder, fell amongst us; some would burst in mid air, and the fragments would hurtle down.  The skirmishing ceased—­in an ocean one drop more is naught.