left of Prentiss' line
as to what he saw and knew of the condition of things at about
seven o'clock that morning.

Well, the companies were formed, we marched out on the regimental
parade ground, and the regiment was formed in line. The command was
given: "Load at will; load!" We had anticipated this, however, as
the most of us had instinctively loaded our guns before we had
formed company. All this time the roar on the right was getting
nearer and louder. Our old colonel rode up close to us, opposite
the center of the regimental line, and called out, "Attention,
battalion!" We fixed our eyes on him to hear what was coming. It
turned out to be the old man's battle harangue.

"Gentlemen," said he, in a voice that every man in the regiment
heard, "remember your State, and do your duty today like brave
men."

That was all. A year later in the war the old man doubtless would
have addressed us as "soldiers," and not as "gentlemen," and he
would have omitted his allusion to the "State," which smacked a
little of Confederate notions. However, he was a Douglas Democrat,
and his mind was probably running on Buena Vista, in the Mexican
war, where, it is said, a Western regiment acted badly, and threw a
cloud over the reputation for courage of the men of that State
which required the thunders of the Civil War to disperse.
Immediately after the colonel had given us his brief exhortation,
the regiment was marched across the little field I have before
mentioned, and we took our place in line of battle, the woods in
front of us, and the open field in our rear. We "dressed on" the
colors, ordered arms, and stood awaiting the attack. By this time
the roar on the right had become terrific. The Rebel army was
unfolding its front, and the battle was steadily advancing in our
direction. We could begin to see the blue rings of smoke curling
upward among the trees off to the right, and the pungent smell of
burning gun-powder filled the air. As the roar came travelling down
the line from the right it reminded me (only it was a million times
louder) of the sweep of a thunder-shower in summer-time over the
hard ground of a stubble-field.

And there we stood, in the edge of the woods, so still, waiting for
the storm to break on us. I know mighty well what I was thinking
about then. My mind's