We had fired about twenty-one rounds, when I heard some one say, “They are all retreating!” and turning, I saw that the right wing had gone, and the left starting. But several who had not heard Colonel Bowles’ order to retreat, cried out, “Halt, men! for God’s sake, stop!” At this, many of us hesitated; but the retreat was general, and the enemy fast advancing upon us, led on by a large force of lancers. At length, Lieutenant Cayre, then in command, remarked, “It’s no use, boys, to stay here alone; let _us_ retreat!” which we did, with the balls raining around us, and the lancers at our heels. We rallied, by order, on the brow of the ridge from which we started in the morning, but were told to fall back upon the ridge on which we were first formed on the morning of the 22d. Here many of us met the Mississippi regiment of riflemen, who had just arrived from their quarters in town. The more I reflect upon our position in the opening of the conflict, the more I am at a loss to understand the policy of sending the 2d regiment against such an overpowering force. We were three-quarters of a mile from any assistance, except that of the gallant O’Brien, who with his three little pieces did such great execution. Our field officers all deny giving the word retreat, and General Lane, they say, intended to charge. Had he given the word, the charge would have been made; but how dreadful would have been the slaughter of our troops. It is unprecedented in the annals of warfare, for eight companies to rush against a disciplined force of three thousand infantry supported by twelve hundred lancers. Had we remained fifteen minutes longer, it is thought not one half of us would have survived. Their battery was fast getting our exact range, and it is astonishing that so many of us escaped.[1]