Well! after we got rid of those shells from the rear we didn’t so much mind the artillery fire from the front, which kept up more or less through the morning.
What with the wet, cheerless weather, and the mental discomfort of staying in a place where they were “shooting cannons” at us, and other kind of shooting might soon be expected, two of our men got sick, and went back to the position of our guns on the hill in the rear. The Captain appealed to them to go back, but their health was bad, and they didn’t think the place where we were, a health resort. So Captain McCarthy called for volunteers to take their places, and instantly John W. Page, and George B. Harrison, of the First Detachment, offered, and came over to us.
Successive Attacks by Federal Infantry
Up to this time we had seen no infantry since their columns had tried to cross our front. No attack had been made on us and all seemed quiet out in front, except that artillery. But, out of our sight, over behind the woods, the enemy was conspiring to break up our quiet in the most decided manner. About ten o’clock we suddenly caught sight of a confused appearance down through the woods on our right front. It quickly defined itself as a line of battle, rapidly advancing. Our pickets fired upon it, then ran back over the works into our line. The Texans sprang into rank, we jumped to our guns, and sent a case-shot tearing down through the woods. Next instant, the Federal line dashed, cheering, out of the edge of the woods, and came charging at us. As they dashed out, they were met by a furious storm of bullets, and cannister, which at two hundred yards tore their ranks. They got about a hundred yards under that fire, then began to falter, then stopped, tried to stand for a moment, then with their battle line shot all to pieces, they turned and broke for the woods in headlong rout. We did our best to help them along, shooting at them with case-shot as long as we could catch any glimpse of them, moving back through the trees. Then that Federal artillery got savage again. We lay low and waited for some more infantry.
Very soon, here they came again! another line charging on, only to meet the same fate; shattered lines, hapless disorder, bloody repulse, and rapid retreat. Several times they tried to reach our lines, and every time failed, then gave it up for the time.
These various assaults took up the time, I should say from ten-thirty to twelve o’clock. When they were over, the field, and wood in front of us displayed a most dreadful scene. The field was thickly strewn with the dead, and wounded. And just along the edge of the wood, where the advancing lines generally first met our full fire, in the several assaults, the dead lay so thick and in such regular order, that it looked to us like a line of battle, lying down. And the poor wounded fellows lying thickly about! It was frightful to see and to hear them. It was a bloody business, their oft-repeated effort to take our line. Their loss was very severe, ours was almost nothing. The Texan Brigade in all their assaults had several wounded, none killed; at our guns not a man was hurt.
One thing that struck me in that fighting was the utter coolness of the Texan infantry. I watched the soldier next to my gun, and can never forget his bearing. The whizzing bullets, the heavy storming columns pouring upon us, the yells and cries of the combatants were enough to excite anybody, but this fellow was just as easy and deliberate as if he had been shooting at a mark. He would drop the butt of his musket on the ground and ram down a cartridge, raise the piece to his hip, put on a cap, cock the hammer, and then, slowly draw the gun up to his eye, and shoot. I really don’t think that Texan fired a shot that day until the sight on his gun covered a Federal soldier, and I think it likely he hit a man every time he shot. It was this sort of shooting that made the carnage in front so terrible.
And what a confident lot they were! After one or two of these lines had been repulsed, as the enemy were advancing again, you could hear the men in the line calling one to another, “Say, boys, don’t shoot so quick this time! Let them get up closer. Too many of them get away, when you start so soon.” Truly they were the unterrified! Our line was so thin; those storming lines of blue as they came storming on seemed heavy enough to roll over us like a tidal wave. Yet it never seemed to occur to these fellows that they might be run over. Their only thought was to “let them get up closer next time.” Their only concern was that “too many of them were getting away.” Good men, they were, to hold a line!
At last, this furious attempt, by Warren and Hancock, to force our position ceased. And as we saw, out in front, the heavy losses of the enemy, and still had every one of our men ready for duty, we thought “we could stand this sort of thing, if they could, and just as long as they chose to keep on.” They lost in dead and wounded about twelve hundred men to about four of ours. Certainly, we could stand it! So we piled some more canister in front of our guns, and watched to see what they would do next.
The long hours crept on until three o’clock,—when the warming up of the Federal artillery fire warned us of another attack. Soon came another stubborn assault by Warren’s Corps. Same result. Line after line pushed out from the woods, only to be hurled back, bleeding and torn, leaving on the field large additions to the sad load of dead, and wounded, with which it was already encumbered. They effected nothing! Very little loss to us, heavy loss to them. We were using double shot of canister nearly every time, on masses of men at short range; the infantry fire was rapid and deadly. Our fire soon swept the front clear of the enemy. We piled up more canister, and waited again.