The guns were now in plain sight, and fearful of the attack, a regiment of Confederate infantry was hurled to the front to stay the progress of the long line of blue. It was bayonet to bayonet, with a clash and a crash that could have been heard for half a mile had not the general din swallowed it up. But the boys in blue were on the run and could not be stayed until the battery was gained and silenced. The encounter nearly threw Louis off his feet. As the Confederates came closer, he suddenly saw before him a tall, thin man, with a browned, determined face. The bayonet of the man was thrust with a vicious lunge straight for his heart. With a desperate effort, Louis knocked the weapon aside. Then his own bayonet lunged forward and the tall, thin man went down, pierced through the side. Like a flash he was lost to view, as the first and then the second line of attack trampled over his body, and Louis found himself confronted by another foe. “The battery is ours! Hurrah!” This was the cry which rang over the field. The Confederate infantry had been forced back, inch by inch, until the Union soldiers now held the entire top of the hill. It looked as if the day would remain their own. But this was not yet to be. From the woods beyond there burst a fresh regiment of North Carolina troops, and close behind them came some Alabama reserves, and once again the men in gray made an onslaught, yelling like so many demons. Some artillery also came into place, dealing death at every discharge and cutting down those on the very apex of the hill as with a huge scythe. “They’re too many for us!” Who started the cry will never be known. But it was enough to put the Union regiment upon the retreat. An effort was made to spike the Confederate battery which had just been taken, but there was not time enough, and in a twinkling blue and gray were fighting in the hollow beneath the hill, “like cats in a water butt,” to use Moses Blackwell’s words. Moses had had a shot through his ear lobe, from which the blood flowed freely, but the thought of retiring to the rear never once entered his head. “If only a fellow had a drink of water!” panted Louis. The Goreville Volunteers had reached the shelter of some brush, and the Confederates had failed to follow them up. He looked around and found a pool close at hand. He was kneeling to get a drink when a cannon boomed forth, the ball ploughed into the pool and he found himself bespattered with water and mud! He forgot all about being thirsty, but rolled over and retreated on a run. There was now a call to support another regiment in a different section of the field, and once again the Goreville boys set off on the double-quick, loading as they ran. They were now in the vicinity of the river, and blue and gray were fighting for the possession of a bridge.