the charge came too late
we cannot but admire the strategy that directed it, and the bravery of
the infantry of Gordon, Rodes, and Ramseur, as well as that of the
cavalry of Lomax, Jackson, and Johnson, and of Fitzhugh Lee who fell
severely wounded. But they had not foreseen the terrible cross-fire from
Russell, who died at the head of his division, a bullet piercing his
breast and a piece of shell tearing through his heart. Nor had they
calculated on confronting the long line of Dwight, nine regiments with
the Fifth New York Battery, all of which stood like a stone breakwater.
Against it Gordon's masses, broken by the irregularities of the ground,
dashed in vain. Under the ceaseless fire of iron and lead the refluent
waves came pouring back. Our army was saved.

But we few, who, in obedience to explicit orders from headquarters, had
held our position stiffly farthest to the front when all the rest of
Grover's and Ricketts' thousands had retreated--we were lost. A column
behind a rebel flag was advancing straight upon us unchecked by our
vigorous fire. Seeing that they meant business, I commanded, "Fix
Bayonets!" At that instant the gray surges converged upon us right and
left and especially in our rear. We seemed in the middle of the rebel
army. In the crater of such a volcano, fine-spun theories, poetic
resolves to die rather than be captured--these are point-lace in a
furnace. A Union officer, Capt. W. Frank Tiemann of the 159th N. Y.,
Molineux's Brigade, was showing fight, and half a dozen Confederates
with clubbed muskets were rushing upon him. I leaped to the spot, sword
in hand, and shouted with all the semblance I could assume of fierce
authority,

"Down with those muskets! Stop! I command you." They lowered them.

"Who the hell are you?" they asked.

"I'll let you know." Turning instantly to four or five Confederate
officers, I demanded: "Do you mean to massacre my men?"

Two or three replied: "No. By G--! You've shown yourselves brave, and
you shall be respected. Yes, you fought d--d well, seein' you had the
d--dest brigade to fight against in the whole Confederate Army."

"What brigade are you?" I asked.

"Ramseur's old brigade; and there's nothin' this side o' hell can lick
it."

"You're brave enough," said another; "but damn you, you've killed our
best general."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Rodes; killed right in front of you."

"I thought Early was your best General."

"Not by a d-- sight. Ol