We make up for lack of speed, with yells, while the opposite mountain sends back the echoing battle cry, until the rebels afterwards captured said they thought there was a million of us.
And so we charged the main works at “Whitehouse farm.” The rebels driven from the slope, here rallied, and stubbornly contested our advance. From the top they dropped their bullets among us. The artillery upon the summit sent their iron missiles screaming over us and growled above our heads in impotent fury at their inability to depress their muzzles so as to get our range. But we took the works on the run; and in all, bagged over 2,000 prisoners. Down to the left and front was a redoubt that was not carried with the rest of the works, owing to a deep ravine intervening, and we began indulging in some musketry practice upon the inmates which they were reciprocating in kind, when our Major, Acton, stepped down into the ditch where I was kneeling and proposed making an assault upon them. His light blue overcoat presented a conspicuous mark; and I could hear the cruel zip of the bullets that sought his life; and pulling his coat told him to get down. At this instant I heard the fierce whack of the bullet that pierced his heroic heart. He threw up his hands, and his cry of mortal anguish rings in my memory still. I sprang to my feet and caught him in my arms, easing him down; as his body sank upon my knee, I felt his form quiver and become rigid in the death agony, and saw his face receive the seal of the king of terrors. There fell a true hero. Obedience to duty was his watchword.
He had lived a noble life, and died an honorable death, and fairly won his promotion at the hands of our Supreme Commander.
About 4 P. M. we were relieved by the rear line who drove the rebels on past the Whitehouse, into the timber beyond, and there kept up a heavy skirmish firing half the night. Meantime we prepared a sumptuous repast of bacon and hard-tack—coffee was barred—some of the boys lighted fires, but quickly the order came “Fires out!” and they were encouraged to prompt obedience by the dropping shot, which were attracted by the light, gleaming through occasional rifts in the cloud.
We lay that night on the bleak mountain side, some 1500 feet above the surface of the Tennessee; subject to the loving ministrations of a driving sleet, which, carried as it was on a wind with forty miles of clear sweep, felt sharp as needles to our faces. Happy were they who had not left their blankets at the foot of the mountain.
Next morning we were aroused early and ordered to get breakfast. Company B being informed that to it had been awarded the post of honor of leading the forlorn hope up the Summertown road, a narrow road cut through the rock leading to the top of the mountain, which would admit about four men abreast, and we figured that as we marched up, in the face of a desperate enemy, it would probably use up the last man of our company before a landing could be effected. Under the protecting wing of a friendly cloud we built fires and made coffee, of which we stood in sore need, for, sore from yesterday’s exertions, shivering in our breezy breakfast hall, as the chill gray dawn crept over us, and in the absence of the enthusiasm of the active assault, the prospect before us was anything but encouraging.
Just as we finished breakfast the cloud rolled away, and the sun peering over the smoky mountains of North Carolina, gilded our mountain top.
My first thought was “sharp-shooters,” and glancing up at the top from whence the shots might be expected, I saw a little squad at the extreme point, unfurling a flag. With breathless interest I watched the opening folds of that flag, when out upon the wind floated the grandest national standard that ever flapped in any breeze under the shining sun. That emblem dearest to every loyal American heart: the glorious Star Spangled Banner!
I lifted up my voice and yelled. At the same time the whole mountain side resounded with huzzahs of joy and triumph. The one hundred thousand veterans in the Chattanooga Valley sent back the answer like a mighty echo, and there went up, tossed from crest to crest, and mountain top to mountain top, a tremendous Yankee shout of victory, proclaiming in thunder tones the triumph of “the battle above the clouds!”
The whole situation had experienced a change. The sharp-shooters were gone. We were relieved from that Summertown road business, and we held the key to the rebel position in front of Chattanooga.