bmit to such uncalled-for interference.

"If you are a commissioned officer," Shoemaker replied, "why are you
here, working at a gun?"

"Because I had not been assigned to other duty," was Williamson's reply,
"and I chose to come back, for the time being, with my old battery."

"Then I order you under arrest for your disrespect to a superior
officer!" said Shoemaker.

The case was promptly reported to General Jackson, and Williamson as
promptly released. The bombastic major had little idea that among the
men he was so uselessly reprimanding was a son of General Lee, as well
as Lieutenant Williamson, who was a nephew of Gen. Dick Garnett, who was
later killed in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. This episode over, we
again drove to the haystack.

These repeated advances and attacks made by the enemy's artillery
plainly showed that they realized that our situation was a hazardous
one, of which we, too, were fully aware, and unless Longstreet should
soon show up we felt that the whole of Pope's army would soon be upon
us. While quietly awaiting developments, we heard the sound of a horse's
hoofs, and, as a courier galloped up to General Jackson, to announce
Longstreet's approach, the cloud of red dust raised by his vanguard in
the direction of Thoroughfare Gap assured us that he would soon be at
hand. Before he reached the field, however, and while we were enjoying
the sense of relief at his coming, one of the enemy's batteries had
quietly and unobserved managed to get into one of the positions occupied
by our battery during the morning. Their first volley, coming from such
an unexpected quarter, created a great commotion. Instantly we galloped
to their front and unlimbered our guns at close range. Other of our
batteries fired a few shots, but soon ceased, all seeming intent on
witnessing a duel between the two batteries of four guns each. Their
position was the more favorable, as their limbers and caissons were
behind the crest of the hill, while we were on level ground with ours
fully exposed. Each man worked as if success depended on his individual
exertions, while Captain Poague and Lieutenant Graham galloped back and
forth among the guns, urging us to our best efforts. Our antagonists got
our range at once, and, with their twelve-pound Napoleon guns, poured
in a raking fire. One shell I noticed particularly as it burst, and
waited a moment to observe its effects as the fragments tore by. One of
them struck Captain