And now we hear the crash of small arms, and smoke is rising from our left oblique. We are yet under the hill. We halt and wait. The noise of battle grows. Sunset comes--we move. The next company on our right is passing through a gap in a fence. A shell strikes the topmost rail at the left and hurls it clear over their heads. Then I see men pale, and I know that my own face is white.
Shells fly over us. We lie down on the slope of a hill which rises to our left, and darkness grows, and the noises cease. No breaking of ranks for rest or for water; the long night through we lie on our arms.
Morning comes; we have no water; the men eat their rations dry. At sunrise the march is again begun, through fields and woods and down country roads; we go southeast.
The Yankees have gone. At nine o'clock we halt; a field. Company C, the right of the regiment; is thrown forward as skirmishers.
Again we march; again we halt, the brigade in line of battle. An orderly comes to Captain Haskell.
"Company H! ATTENTION!"
Every man is in his place--alert.
"Forward--MARCH!"
"By the right flank--MARCH!"
"HALT!--FRONT!"