We form line
of battle on top of Rocky Face Ridge, and here we are face to face with
the enemy. Why don't you unbottle your thunderbolts and dash us to
pieces? Ha! here it comes; the boom of cannon and the bursting of a
shell in our midst. Ha! ha! give us another blizzard! Boom! boom!
That's all right, you ain't hurting nothing.
"Hold on, boys," says a sharpshooter, armed with a Whitworth gun, "I'll
stop that racket. Wait until I see her smoke again." Boom, boom! the
keen crack of the Whitworth rings upon the frosty morning air; the
cannoneers are seen to lie down; something is going on. "Yes, yonder is
a fellow being carried off on a litter." Bang! bang! goes the Whitworth,
and the battery is seen to limber to the rear. What next? a yell!
What does this yell mean? A charge right up the hill, and a little
sharp skirmish for a few moments. We can see the Yankee line. They are
resting on their arms. The valley below is full of blue coats, but a
little too far off to do any execution.
Old Joe walks along the line. He happens to see the blue coats in the
valley, in plain view. Company H is ordered to fire on them. We take
deliberate aim and fire a solid volley of minnie balls into their midst.
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