us. The river was so narrow that every movement on either side was
visible, and, lying flat upon the ground, we fired for hours at any
signs of life, and were continually answered by the _zip-zip_ of bullets
as they flew past our heads, or buried themselves in the rails above us.
Thus the conflict continued; grape and solid shot tore frantically over
us, plowing up the dirt and crashing through the woods in the rear,
filling our ears with the most frightful din. Our greatest difficulty
was in loading, for if so much as a hand was exposed to view, such a
rain of lead would be sent our way that it took some minutes to assure
one's self that he was not killed. Once in a while, the word would be
passed along, "George is wounded," "Ned is killed," or, "Serg't Smith"
has a hole through his arm, and we would instinctively get closer to the
ground and flatten ourselves out as thin as possible. Hunger and thirst
also began to tell on us, and we longed for the darkness to come, but
our opponents with their larger force held us to our work, seeming loth
to have us depart.

About dusk the order was given to fall back quickly and quietly, but how
to do it safely in the face of a regiment of Confederates was a puzzle
to be solved; edging backward till at fair distance from the fence, we
suddenly rose and scampered, in knots of two or three, at break-neck
speed for the other side of the field, with bullets and grape buzzing
around us like angry wasps. When, at length, we gathered, shivering with
the cold, around our pile of blankets, and felt hungrily in the
emptiness of our haversacks for one remaining cracker, the prevailing
feeling was that "we wanted to go home," but, to our intense disgust, we
were ordered to eat our hardtack, if so fortunate as to have any, and,
as soon as sufficiently dark to conceal our movements, to picket the
river bank near the bridge and be ready to support the battery in any
attempted night surprise. This we felt to be an outrage on good nature,
and so expressed ourselves in language not at all polite. We were tired
and hungry, and the night cold and sharp, but orders are orders and must
be obeyed, and we moodily wended our way to our various stations.

It was a good time to illustrate those lines of Tennyson,--

"Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why."

Nevertheless we were not at all in harmony with the poem, but felt
perfectly willing and wholly competent to instruct our command