“At the foot of the ridge the leaders of this forlorn hope, as it proved, halted their troops for a moment.  As far as the smoke permitted me to see, it seemed that the supporting Confederate divisions had not kept pace with the centre.  Would the assault be made?  The familiar rebel yell was a speedy answer, as they started up the acclivity, firing as they came.  Now, more vivid than the sunlight, a sheet of fire flashed out along our line, and the crash of musketry drowned even the thunder of the cannon.

“The mad impulse of battle was upon me, as upon every one, and I rushed down nearer our lines to get a better view, also from the instinctive feeling that that attack must be repulsed, for it aimed at nothing less than the piercing of the centre of our army.  The front melted away as if composed of phantoms, but other spectral men took their place, the flashes of their muskets outlining their position.  On, on they came, up to our front line and over it.  At the awful point of impact there was on our side a tall, handsome brigadier, whose black eyes glowed like coals.  How he escaped so long was one of the mysteries of battle.  His voice rang out above the horrid din as he rallied his men, who were not retreating, but were simply pushed back by the still unspent impetus of the rebel charge.  I could not resist his appeal, or the example of his heroism, and, seizing a musket and some cartridges belonging to a fallen soldier, I was soon in the thick of it.  I scarcely know what happened for the next few moments, so terrible were the excitement and confusion.  Union troops and officers were rushing in on all sides, without much regard to organization, under the same impulse which had actuated me.  I found myself firing point-blank at the enemy but a few feet away.  I saw a rebel officer waving his hat upon his sword, and fired at him.  Thank Heaven I did not hit him! for, although he seemed the leading spirit in the charge, I would not like to think I had killed so brave a man.  In spite of all our efforts, they pushed us back, back past the battery we were trying to defend.  I saw a young officer, not far away, although wounded, run his gun a little forward with the aid of the two or three men left on their feet, fire one more shot, and fall dead.  Then I was parrying bayonet thrusts and seeking to give them.  One fierce-looking fellow was making a lunge at me, but in the very act fell over, pierced by a bullet.  A second later the rebel officer, now seen to be a general, had his hand on a gun and was shouting, ‘Victory!’ but the word died on his lips as he fell, for at this moment there was a rush in our rear.  A heavy body of men burst, like a tornado, through our shattered lines, and met the enemy in a hand-to-hand conflict.