did not hear, waved his hand to us, and then galloped off to the right.
He was hardly out of sight, when sure enough, two or three cannon shots
were heard out in front, followed by a scattering fire of small arms.
We had a small force of our cavalry in the woods beyond the ridge I
have mentioned, and they soon appeared, slowly falling back. They were
spread out in a wide, extended skirmish line, and acted fine. They
would trot a little ways to the rear, then face about, and fire their
carbines at the advancing foe, who, as yet, was unseen by us. Finally
they galloped off to the left and disappeared in the woods, and all was
still for a short time. Suddenly, without a note of warning, and not
preceded by even a skirmish line, there appeared coming over the ridge
in front, and down the road, a long column of Confederate cavalry! They
were, when first seen, at a walk, and marching by the flank, with a
front of four men. How deep the column was we could not tell. The word
was immediately passed down our line not to fire until at the word of
command, and that we were to fire by file, beginning on the right. That
is, only two men, front and rear rank, would fire together, and so on,
down the line. The object of this was apparent: by the time the left of
the regiment had emptied their guns, the right would have reloaded, and
thus a continuous firing would be maintained. With guns cocked and
fingers on the triggers, we waited in tense anxiety for the word to
fire. Maj. Ohr was standing a few paces in the rear of the center of
the regiment, watching the advance of the enemy. Finally, when they
were in fair musket range, came the order, cool and deliberate, without
a trace of excitement: "At-ten-shun, bat-tal-yun! Fire by file!
Ready!--Commence firing!" and down the line crackled the musketry.
Concurrently with us, the old 43rd Illinois on the right joined in the
serenade. In the front file of the Confederate column was one of the
usual fellows with more daring than discretion, who was mounted on a
tall, white horse. Of course, as long as that horse was on its feet,
everybody shot at him, or the rider. But that luckless steed soon went
down in a cloud of dust, and that was the end of old Whitey. The effect
of our fire on the enemy was marked and instantaneous. The head of
their column crumpled up instanter, the road was full of dead and
wounded horses, while several that were riderless went galloping down
the road by us, with bri