Not a breath of wind shook the leaves or stirred the high,
rank grass by the water-side; a portentous and awful stillness filled
the air,--the stillness felt by nature before a devastating storm.
Quiet, with the like awful and portentous calm, the black regiment,
headed by its young, fair-haired, knightly colonel, marched to its
destined place and action.
When within about six hundred yards of the fort it was halted at the
head of the regiments already stationed, and the line of battle formed.
The prospect was such as might daunt the courage of old and well-tried
veterans, but these soldiers of a few weeks seemed but impatient to take
the odds, and to make light of impossibilities. A slightly rising
ground, raked by a murderous fire, to within a little distance of the
battery; a ditch holding three feet of water; a straight lift of
parapet, thirty feet high; an impregnable position, held by a desperate
and invincible foe.
Here the men were addressed in a few brief and burning words by their
heroic commander. Here they were besought to glorify their whole race by
the lustre of their deeds; here their faces shone with a look which
said, "Though men, we are ready to do deeds, to achieve triumphs, worthy
the gods!" here the word of command was given:--
"We are ordered and expected to take Battery Wagner at the point of the
bayonet. Are you ready?"
"Ay, ay, sir! ready!" was the answer.
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