It was a forlorn hope. We felt we were
"gone fawn skins," sure enough. At every discharge of our guns,
we would hear a Yankee squall. The boys raised a tune--
"I'se gwine to jine the Rebel band,
A fighting for my home"--
as they loaded and shot their guns. Then the tune of--
"Cheer, boys, cheer, we are marching on to battle!
Cheer, boys, cheer, for our sweethearts and our wives!
Cheer, boys, cheer, we'll nobly do our duty,
And give to the South our hearts, our arms, our lives."
Our cartridges were almost gone, and Lieutenant Joe Carney, Joe Sewell,
and Billy Carr volunteered to go and bring a box of one thousand
cartridges. They got out of the back window, and through that hail of
iron and lead, made their way back with the box of cartridges. Our
ammunition being renewed, the fight raged on. Captain Joe P. Lee touched
me on the shoulder and said, "Sam, please let me have your gun for one
shot." He raised it to his shoulder and pulled down on a fine-dressed
cavalry officer, and I saw that Yankee tumble. He handed it back to me
to reload. About twelve o'clock, midnight, the Hundred and Fifty-fourth
Tennessee, commanded by Colonel McGevney, came to our relief.
The firing had ceased, and we abandoned the octagon house.
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