We sprang to the embrasures. The rebels were plainly visible three hundred yards away, their heads distinct above their pits. Our skirmish line behind us seemed gone; the shell had been fired not at us but at our skirmishers, and the volley we had heard had been but the supplement of the artillery fire--all for the purpose of getting full command of our line, on which not a man now dared to show his head, for a dozen Minié balls would go for it at the moment. Unquestionably the rebels had not detected our little squad.
"Prime, men!" says Willis.
The guns were capped.
"Now, hold your fire till the word!"
Very few shots were now coming. The rebels were having it all their own way, nobody replying to them. Their bodies to their waists could be seen; some of them began to walk about a little, for they were not in any sort of danger, that is, from our line. They were firing with a system: pit No. 1 would send a ball, then in ten seconds, pit No. 2, and so on down their line, merely to keep the advantage they had gained. At irregular intervals two or three shots would be sent at some dummy--a hat or coat held up by the bayonets of men behind the pits in our rear.
"Ready!" says Willis.
Three men were in a group between two of the pits. Another joined them.
"Aim! Fire!"
Five triggers were pulled.
"Two down, by the--!" roared Willis, with, a more remarkable oath, than any I ever saw in print.