eir midst.
We see a terrible consplutterment among them, and know that we have
killed and wounded several of Sherman's incendiaries. They seem to get
mad at our audacity, and ten pieces of cannon are brought up, and pointed
right toward us. We see the smoke boil up, and a moment afterwards the
shell is roaring and bursting right among us. Ha! ha! ha! that's funny--
we love the noise of battle. Captain Joe P. Lee orders us to load and
fire at will upon these batteries. Our Enfields crack, keen and sharp;
and ha, ha, ha, look yonder! The Yankees are running away from their
cannon, leaving two pieces to take care of themselves. Yonder goes a
dash of our cavalry. They are charging right up in the midst of the
Yankee line. Three men are far in advance. Look out, boys! What does
that mean? Our cavalry are falling back, and the three men are cut off.
They will be captured, sure. They turn to get back to our lines.
We can see the smoke boil up, and hear the discharge of musketry from the
Yankee lines. One man's horse is seen to blunder and fall, one man reels
in his saddle, and falls a corpse, and the other is seen to surrender.
But, look yonder! the man's horse that blundered and fell is up again;
he mounts his horse in fifty yards of the whole Yankee line, is seen to
lie down on his neck, and is spurring him right on toward the solid line
of blue coats. Look how he rides, and the ranks of the blue coats open.
Hurrah for the brave rebel boy! He has passed and is seen to regain his
regiment. I afterwards learned that that brave Rebel boy was my own
brother, Dave, who at that time was not more than sixteen years old.
The one who was killed was named Grimes, and the one captured was named
Houser, and the regiment was the First Tennessee Cavalry, then commanded
by Colonel J. H. Lewis. You could have heard the cheers from both sides,
it seemed, for miles.

John Branch raised the tune, in which the whole First and Twenty-seventh
Regiments joined in:

"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.
Old Lincoln, with his hireling hosts,
Will never whip the South,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom."

All this is taking place while the Yankees are fully one thousand yards
off. We can see every movement that is made