Darkness had no sooner closed over the devoted city, and our imaginations awakened to the horrors of the coming scene, than the “stormers” were immediately ordered to “fall in” and “form.” We were four or five from each company, and in all about a hundred and twenty men. The volunteers of our regiment were led by Captain Mitchell and Lieutenants Johnson and Kincaid; the whole of the storming division being commanded by Major George Napier of the 52nd regiment. The forlorn-hope, or stormers, moved to a convent, occupied by the 40th, the walls of which protected us from the enemy’s shot. General Crauford, who led us in person, while we stood formed under the wall, addressed us upon the nature of the duty assigned us. It was the last enterprise his gallant spirit was ever destined to direct. On this memorable occasion his voice was more than ordinarily clear and distinct. His words sunk deep in my memory, and although the shock of many a battle has rolled over my grey locks since that period, I remember some of his language as follows:— “Soldiers! the eyes of your country are upon you. Be steady,—be cool,—be firm in the assault. The town must be yours this night. Once masters of the wall, let your first duty be to clear the ramparts, and in doing this keep together.” We were now waiting only for the signal, while our division was formed immediately in our rear, ready to second the effort. I could not help remarking at this awful crisis, when all most probably were on the brink of being dashed into eternity, a solemnity and silence among the men deeper than I had ever witnessed before. With hearts beating, each was eagerly watching the expected signal of the rocket, when up it went from one of our batteries.