Hark! What means that wild yell, and that cracking and crashing in the woods behind us? Hurrah! it is Starke with his Louisianians. It was a grand sight as those grim veterans emerged from the woods on the run. Nothing on earth could withstand the impetuosity of their charge, and the foemen were swept back across the cut like chaff, and the position was ours.
Fearing I should be struck by some of the many flying bullets, I determined to get under the friendly cover of the position won, and after many efforts succeeded in getting on my hands and knees, and dragging myself to the bank, quietly rolled down. It was well I did so, for the enemy were not going to give it up without another effort. Fresh troops advanced, and the conflict was renewed with redoubled fury. Steadily the column in blue moved forward in the face of the terrible fire of the Confederates, and reached the very edge of the embankment. Our ammunition was giving out. No matter, stones lay around in abundance, and were hurled with desperate energy.
“Bad luck to yez, there goes my last cartridge,” I heard an Irishman exclaim at my side. Remembering I had two packages in my jacket pocket that I had found in the haversack of the previous evening, I requested him to take them out. As he did so he uttered an exultant shout, and with a “Come on yez d—d Yankees, its Louisianians yer fitin now,” resumed his firing.
For at least fifteen minutes this desperate hand to hand conflict continued, when the enemy began to give way and scatter in every direction to avoid our fire. But the artillery to the right, which for some time had been silent owing to the proximity of the contending forces, now opened upon the dense mass with grape and canister at point blank range, and the slaughter was horrible until the fugitives reached the cover of the woods.
On the right, in Longstreet’s front, the battle still raged, but long before nightfall it ceased; the second battle of Manassas was won, and our army in close pursuit.
The excitement of the fight over, I began to think seriously of my own condition. I had lost a great deal of blood, and was almost in a state of collapse. The dying words of the poor soldier who expired in my arms the evening before, more than once occurred to me: “Your turn may come next.” And had it come? And then: “Oh, ’tis hard to die thus, away from home and friends; but it is a comfort to have the presence of even one with whom I have just been engaged in deadly strife.” But no ministering hand was there. I was alone with those still in death, and others like myself writhing in mortal agony. No one near me to take a last message to my home, or to tell how I died. But I am burning up with thirst.
“Water, water, for God’s sake water!” rang in my ears, and I envied the poor wretch the few drops I had given him the previous evening. Gradually I grew more faint; I felt as though I was being whirled round and round with fearful rapidity. Round and round, faster and faster, and I lost all consciousness.
I must have remained in this swoon some time, and when I recovered I found Dr. Richard Johnson and the noble Irishman, Atkins, at my side.
“Ah, this is a divil of a pretty mess,” was the first words I heard. “This is what you get for disobeying orthers. Had ye remained wid your legitimate command this wouldn’t have happened. Here’s Grinnell, Shellman and meself as sound as a new quarther. Oh, the hathens, to trate one of ‘Atkins Brigade’ so mane a thrick.”
All night I lay on the field, attended by Dr. Johnson and my good ex-commander, and next morning, was placed in an ambulance and conveyed to Mrs. Hamilton’s, where I was received as a brother and a son by the family. For weeks I languished upon a bed of sickness, nursed with the care and tenderness of an infant by every member of the family, when I was declared convalescent, and made my way to Richmond.