“Up and at them,” cried Tom, as the rebels began to yield and break before the tremendous charge of our regiment.
The young sergeant’s throat was raw with the shouting he had done, and his limbs were beginning to yield to the fatigues of the day; but the words of the commander of the division made him over new again, and his husky voice still rang along the line, full of new courage and new energy to his exhausted comrades. The rebels were driven back for the time, and fled before the iron masses that crowded upon them.
The regiment was recalled, and the weary troops, now almost decimated by the slaughter which had taken place in their ranks, were permitted to breathe once more.
“This is awful,” said the veteran of Company K, panting from the violence of his exertions. “I never saw any thing like this before.”
“Nor I,” replied Tom, dropping upon the ground with exhaustion.
“I know something about this business. I thought Cerry Gordy was consid’able of a battle, but ’twas nothin’ like this.”
“It’s awful,” sighed Tom, as he thought of the good fellows he had seen fall upon the field.
“Heaps of our boys have gone down!”
“Attention—battalion!” came ringing with startling effect along the line, in the familiar tones of the intrepid colonel.
“If we win the day, we can afford to lose many. Victory or death!” shouted Tom, as he sprang to his feet, in obedience to the command. “More work for us!”