Then Johnson, whose division was next to Baird's, wheeled a
regiment or two backward and opened fire on the enemy engaged with
Baird. The troops of the latter were not running, but falling back,
firing as they went. Suddenly, one of their colonels seized his
regimental standard from the color-bearer and faced his horse toward the
enemy, holding the flag high above his head. The men began to rally
around this flag, and in a moment an imperfect line had been formed. The
enemy's success was at an end. A moment more, and with a wild cheer
Baird's men dashed forward and drove the enemy from their front.
Meanwhile, we were not idle spectators of all this. At the moment when
Baird's men had been forced into the open field, and it seemed
impossible to re-form them under the fire they were receiving, the
skirmishers in front of Johnson's and Palmer's divisions broke out into
a lively fire and came in at a run. Close behind them were the
rapidly-advancing skirmishers of the enemy. As these came in sight of
our position they took shelter behind trees and waited for their main
force to come up. Soon the woods behind them were filled with the long,
sweeping lines of Bragg's infantry, moving swiftly and steadily up to
the attack. They reached their skirmishers, and as the latter fell in
with the main body the whole broke into the peculiar shrill and fitful
yell of the Southern soldiery, and rushed impetuously upon our line.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175