It began in the early morning with all of Sherman’s guns. They shelled the crest and sides of Kennesaw; roaring, they poured fierce death into the air, hoping that he would find many victims. He found many, though not so many as the blue hoped. The atmosphere rocked and grew smoky; it was a fierce, prolonged cannonade. During the furious overture, behind the tall, fretted screen of smoke, the blues were forming in two lines of battle, long and thick. The grey position was exceedingly strong. The grey said as much, contemning the shells that shrieked and dropped. “We’re pretty well fixed! W.T. Sherman’ll find there ain’t no buried treasure on Kennesaw! General Joe’s going to win out on this campaign.” “We’re going to have a battle here. But I don’t think it’s going to be the big battle. I think the big battle’s going to be at Atlanta.” “Maybe so. Anyhow he’ll win out, and that’s all I’m caring about!—This place’s a regular sea-beach for shells.” There were in the company a father and son—a tall, lean, lantern-jawed, silent man of sixty and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed, silent man of thirty-five. Except that they messed and foraged together they did not seem to have much to say to each other. They were near Edward where he stood behind the rifle-pit. “I reckon,” said the elder, “that the cotton air blooming mighty pretty, ’long about now.” “I reckon it air,” said the younger. The cannonading did not cease, but now, while all the guns thundered, the blue pushed forward a thick line of skirmishers. Behind them showed, between the trees, wide and long and dark, two bands of infantry. The grey batteries that had been sparing ammunition now ceased to spare it. They opened full cry. Grey and blue, the noise was appalling. “I reckon,” said the elder tall man, “that the mill wheel air turning to-day.” “I reckon it air,” said the younger. The blue moved forward to the assault,—Schofield and McPherson and Thomas. They came on boldly and well, cheering, with waved banners, now lost amid the trees, now seen as clearly as aught could be seen under and in the sulphurous battle-cloud. They were striking right and left and centre. On they came—larger—larger—Full in their faces sprang the fire of the trenches.