How had it been faring all this time with Harry Glen and those with him?
The fierce wave had dashed against the regiment early in the morning, and although the first fire received from the Rebels made gaps in the ranks where fifty men fell, it did not recoil a step, but drove its assailants back with such slaughter that their dead, lying in the open ground over which they crossed, were grimly compared by Abe Bolton to “punkins layin' in a field where the corn's been cut off.”
Then the fight settled into a murderous musketry duel across the field, in which the ranks on both sides melted away like frost in the sun. In a few minutes all the field officers were down, and the only Captain that remained untouched took command of the regiment, shouting to Harry Glen at the same moment to take command of the two companies on the right, whose Captains, and Lieutenants had fallen. Two guns escaping from the crush at the extreme right, had galloped down, and opened gallantly to assist the regiment. Almost instantly horses and men went down under the storm of bullets. An Aide broke through the cedars behind.
“Fall back—fall back, for God's sake!” he shouted. “The Rebels have got around the right, and will cut you off.”
“Fall back, boys,” shouted the Captain in command, “but keep together, listen to orders, and load as you go.” The same instant he fell with a ball through his chest.
“Sergeant Glen, you're in command of the regiment, now,” shouted a dozen voices.
The Lieutenant of the battery—a mere boy—ran up to Harry. A stream of blood on his jacket matched its crimson trimmings.
“Don't go off and leave my guns, after I've helped you. Do not, for the love of Heaven! I've saved them so far. Bring them off with you.”
Harry looked inquiringly around upon the less than one hundred survivors, who gathered about him, and had heard the passionate appeal. Every face was set with mortal desperation. An Irish boy on the left was kissing a cross which he had drawn from his bosom.
The tears which strong men shed in wild fits of rage were rolling down the cheeks of Edwards, Bolton, and others.