I have said that all nerves were highly strung while waiting for the battle to begin. This shot and shell not only broke the silence and relaxed the nerve tension, but severely tried not a few nerves, caused many a heart to stand still, and face to blanch. I saw many pale faces; don't know how I looked, but felt rather pale.
This shell struck near a Confederate battery, which immediately limbered up and went to the rear at a gallop—why, I never knew; the supposition was that the battery withdrew in order to draw the Yankees on; if so, it had the desired effect, for in a few minutes the musketry firing began down at the ford. At first it was pop—pop—pop, then pop, pop, pop—and then a continuous roar in which no single shot could be distinguished; it was like a loud, continuing peal of heavy thunder. The roar was punctuated by frequent cannon shot and bursting shells, which sounded louder than the musketry. The noise was frightful, almost deafening, and such as we never heard before, but knew full well it was the "noise and din of battle," about which we had heard and read, but never experienced. I must say it was more terrific and awe-inspiring than I expected. Many of the balls and shells passed a few feet above us; shells and grapeshot struck among the trees and bushes that crowned the small bluff behind which the regiment was posted, with the rushing, swishing, fear-creating noise heard many times afterwards, but which I never learned to like or admire.
History records that General Washington, in his youthful days, in writing to a friend describing a battle with the Indians, said, "The sound of the bullets was music to mine ear." Now, I never had much ear for music, though I like good music, and can distinguish between good and bad music. I here and now record that the sound of shell, solid shot, grapeshot, shrapnel, minie ball, or any other kind of battle noise, was never "music to mine ear"; therefore, I conclude that any and all of these sounds, if music at all, is very poor music.
During the battle, Company G, of the Eleventh Regiment, was deployed as skirmishers along the run on the left flank of the Confederate line of battle, not far from the position occupied by the regiment, the men all lying down behind a fence that ran along the bank of Bull Run, in plain view of the other companies of the Eleventh Regiment; no Yankees appeared on this part of the line. And, I think, Company F was also deployed below Company G near the run.
The heavy firing in this battle did not last long, not over half an hour perhaps, but it seemed a long time.
In the midst of the heaviest firing, one of General Longstreet's staff officers galloped up to the Eleventh Regiment and called for two companies to go down to the ford. When asked how the battle was going, he said, "They have the advantage of us just now, but we will drive them back with these two companies." Some of the Yankees had charged across the creek, or run, at the ford. Colonel Garland called out at the top of his voice, "Major Harrison, take Company E and Company H down to the ford." These two companies, with Major Harrison leading them on horseback, rushed off through the bushes in double-quick time and into the fight they went.
THE YANKEES DRIVEN BACK
The Yankees were quickly driven back. Dr. G. W. Thornhill, surgeon of the Eleventh Regiment, who went along to look after the wounded, captured a Yankee who had crossed over the run and was hiding in the bushes. Very soon, Major Harrison was borne back from the line of battle on a stretcher, or litter, as it was called, shot through the body, and as before said, mortally wounded. Major Harrison was a good officer and a splendid man, very popular in the regiment, and his untimely death was deeply lamented by all. It was rumored through the brigade that Colonel Garland had been mortally wounded. When he heard this rumor, he said, "It was a better man." A fine tribute this, to Major Harrison.
Soon after the two companies went into the fight, the Twenty-fourth Virginia Regiment, led by Col. Peter Hairston on horseback, came double-quicking down the road leading to the ford.
Company A of the Twenty-fourth was the leading company and was commanded by Capt. C. M. Stigleman, and Dr. B. P. Elliott was orderly sergeant. This company was from Floyd County. I did not know any of the officers or men; but since I came to Floyd, have been well acquainted with nearly all of them, and have often talked about the incidents of this day. I have heard Dr. Elliott relate that, as they started into the fight they passed by General Beauregard standing by the roadside, and that the General spoke to each company as it passed saying, "Aim low, men."