Reader, somehow the name and character of General John C. Breckinridge charms me. That morning he looked grand and glorious. His infantry, artillery, and cavalry were drawn up in line of battle in our immediate front. He passed along the line, and stopping about the center of the column, said, "Soldiers, we have been selected to go forward and capture yon heights. Do you think we can take them? I will lead the attack." The men whooped, and the cry, "We can, we can," was heard from one end of the line to the other. Then, "Forward, guide center, march!" were words re-repeated by colonels and captains. They debouched through the woods, and passed out of sight in a little ravine, when we saw them emerge in an open field and advance right upon the Federal breastworks. It was the grandest spectacle I ever witnessed. We could see the smoke and dust of battle, and hear the shout of the charge, and the roar and rattle of cannon and musketry. But Breckinridge's division continued to press forward, without wavering or hesitating. We can see the line of dead and wounded along the track over which he passed, and finally we see our battle flag planted upon the Federal breastworks. I cannot describe the scene. If you, reader, are an old soldier, you can appreciate my failure to give a pen picture of battle. But Breckinridge could not long hold his position. Why we were not ordered forward to follow up his success, I do not know; but remember, reader, I am not writing history. I try only to describe events as I witnessed them.

We marched back to the old church on the roadside, called New Hope church, and fortified, occupying the battlefield of the day before. The stench and sickening odor of dead men and horses were terrible. We had to breathe the putrid atmosphere.

The next day, Colonel W. M. Voorhies' Forty-eighth Tennessee Regiment took position on our right. Now, here were all the Maury county boys got together at New Hope church. I ate dinner with Captain Joe Love, and Frank Frierson filled my haversack with hardtack and bacon.

BATTLE OF ZION CHURCH, JULY 4TH, 1864

The 4th day of July, twelve months before, Pemberton had surrendered twenty-five thousand soldiers, two hundred pieces of artillery, and other munitions of war in proportion, at Vicksburg. The Yankees wanted to celebrate the day. They thought it was their lucky day; but old Joe thought he had as much right to celebrate the Sabbath day of American Independence as the Yankees had, and we celebrated it. About dawn, continued boom of cannon reverberated over the hills as if firing a Fourth of July salute. I was standing on top of our works, leveling them off with a spade. A sharpshooter fired at me, but the ball missed me and shot William A. Graham through the heart. He was as noble and brave a soldier as ever drew the breath of life, and lacked but a few votes of being elected captain of Company H, at the reorganization. He was smoking his pipe when he was shot. We started to carry him to the rear, but he remarked, "Boys, it is useless; please lay me down and let me die." I have never in my life seen any one meet death more philosophically. He was dead in a moment. General A. J. Vaughan, commanding General Preston Smith's brigade, had his foot shot off by a cannon ball a few minutes afterwards.

It seemed that both Confederate and Federal armies were celebrating the Fourth of July. I cannot now remember a more severe artillery duel. Two hundred cannon were roaring and belching like blue blazes. It was but a battle of cannonade all day long. It seemed as though the Confederate and Federal cannons were talking to each other. Sometimes a ball passing over would seem to be mad, then again some would seem to be laughing, some would be mild, some sad, some gay, some sorrowful, some rollicking and jolly; and then again some would scream like the ghosts of the dead. In fact, they gave forth every kind of sound that you could imagine. It reminded one of when two storms meet in mid-ocean—the mountain billows of waters coming from two directions, lash against the vessel's side, while the elements are filled with roaring, thundering and lightning. You could almost feel the earth roll and rock like a drunken man, or a ship, when she rides the billows in an awful storm. It seemed that the earth was frequently moved from its foundations, and you could hear it grate as it moved. But all through that storm of battle, every soldier stood firm, for we knew that old Joe was at the helm.

KINGSTON

Here General Johnston issued his first battle order, that thus far he had gone and intended to go no further. His line of battle was formed; his skirmish line was engaged; the artillery was booming from the Rebel lines. Both sides were now face to face. There were no earthworks on either side. It was to be an open field and a fair fight, when—"Fall back!" What's the matter? I do not know how we got the news, but here is what is told us—and so it was, every position we ever took. When we fell back the news would be, "Hood's line is being enfiladed, and they are decimating his men, and he can't hold his position." But we fell back and took a position at

CASSVILLE

Our line of battle was formed at Cassville. I never saw our troops happier or more certain of success. A sort of grand halo illumined every soldier's face. You could see self-confidence in the features of every private soldier. We were confident of victory and success. It was like going to a frolic or a wedding. Joy was welling up in every heart. We were going to whip and rout the Yankees. It seemed to be anything else than a fight. The soldiers were jubilant. Gladness was depicted on every countenance. I honestly believe that had a battle been fought at this place, every soldier would have distinguished himself. I believe a sort of fanaticism had entered their souls, that whoever was killed would at once be carried to the seventh heaven. I am sure of one thing, that every soldier had faith enough in old Joe to have charged Sherman's whole army. When "Halt!" "Retreat!" What is the matter? General Hood says they are enfilading his line, and are decimating his men, and he can't hold his position.