Their flat-footed dragoons shake and jar the earth. They are all around
us--we are surrounded. "Form square! Platoons, right and left wheel!
Kneel and fire!" There we were in a hollow square. The Yankees had
never seen anything like that before. It was something new. They
charged right upon us. Colonel Field, sitting on his gray mare, right in
the center of the hollow square, gives the command, "Front rank, kneel
and present bayonet against cavalry." The front rank knelt down, placing
the butts of their guns against their knees. "Rear rank, fire at will;
commence firing." Now, all this happened in less time than it has taken
me to write it. They charged right upon us, no doubt expecting to ride
right over us, and trample us to death with the hoofs of their horses.
They tried to spur and whip their horses over us, but the horses had more
sense than that. We were pouring a deadly fire right into their faces,
and soon men and horses were writhing in the death agonies; officers were
yelling at the top of their voices, "Surrender! surrender!" but we were
having too good a thing of it. We were killing them by scores, and they
could not fire at us; if they did they either overshot or missed their
aim.
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