It was death to retreat now to either side.
Our Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson halloed to charge and take their guns,
and we were soon in a hand-to-hand fight--every man for himself--using
the butts of our guns and bayonets. One side would waver and fall back a
few yards, and would rally, when the other side would fall back, leaving
the four Napoleon guns; and yet the battle raged. Such obstinate
fighting I never had seen before or since. The guns were discharged
so rapidly that it seemed the earth itself was in a volcanic uproar.
The iron storm passed through our ranks, mangling and tearing men to
pieces. The very air seemed full of stifling smoke and fire which seemed
the very pit of hell, peopled by contending demons.
Our men were dead and dying right in the very midst of this grand havoc
of battle. It was a life to life and death to death grapple. The sun
was poised above us, a great red ball sinking slowly in the west, yet the
scene of battle and carnage continued. I cannot describe it. The mantle
of night fell upon the scene. I do not know which side whipped, but I
know that I helped bring off those four Napoleon guns that night though
we were mighty easy about it.
They were given to Turner's Battery of our brigade and had the name of
our Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson and our color-bearer, Mitchell, both of
whom were killed, inscribed on two of the pieces.
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