A POOR GUN OR A POOR GUNNER.
Obliquely to the right of my position in the line, and about 250 yards distant as I estimated it, there was a shallow ravine or valley and 20 or 30 feet beyond, on its further slope, a Yankee rifle pit. For reasons which readily occurred to the writer at the time and which will probably suggest themselves to the reader, I did not take the trouble to verify my estimate of the distance by stepping it. About the center of this depression in the land was a very large tree—a pine, as I recollect it. On the farther side of this tree and hidden by it entirely from my view for the larger part of the day was a six-foot Yankee soldier, an officer probably, for he had no gun in his hand. During the afternoon, to protect himself from the fire of other skirmishers on my right, he had "inched" around the tree until his body from his knee upward was in plain and unobstructed view of my position. It was drizzling rain and his shoulders were protected by a blue blanket thrown across them. It was the fairest, prettiest shot I had enjoyed during the day and fearing that he would change his position, I aimed at his breast rather hurriedly and fired. The shot failed even to scare him for he didn't move an inch. Reloading as rapidly as I could, I steadied the gun against the red oak and with as deliberate aim as I had ever taken at a squirrel in my boyhood I fired again. And still he moved not. Reloading again I took even longer aim and when the smoke cleared from the muzzle of the gun he had disappeared. I do not think that he was either killed or disabled as in such event I would have seen him carried to the rear. I am glad to believe that my third shot simply convinced him that a change of base was desirable and that he acted upon that conviction while the smoke obstructed my vision.
And now in at least partial extenuation of what seemed very poor marksmanship it may not be amiss to say that the weapon used was an Austrian rifle and was considered a very inferior gun. With an Enfield or Springfield rifle I think I could have made a better record, provided always that my nerves had not been rendered unsteady by the necessity for dodging minies for six or eight hours. George Harrison, who took care of the tree nearest me on the right has always insisted that I did redeem my reputation on that day, but with so many guns in possible range of the same point it was impossible for him to have known definitely whose shot was effective. Such a result, if positively settled, would be to me now only an unpleasant memory and while in the discharge of my duty as a Confederate soldier and in justice to the cause, for which I fought, I lost no opportunity and spared no effort to lessen the number of effectives on the other side, it has been a gratification to me to have no positive knowledge that my efforts were ever successful.