It was the intention of the Confederate leaders to force the fighting simultaneously all along the line, but when the time for action came this was impossible. Owing to the denseness of the forests and the lack of topographical knowledge of the country, some of the divisions went astray and at the important moment were a mile or more away from where they should have been. Nor were some of the Union troops better off. Having retreated in haste and dropped their guns, they, seeing the gunboats on the river ready to support them, ran forward again to find their weapons, and meeting some of the advancing Confederates produced a confusion which broke up all of the plans laid for that section of the battleground. From early morning the artillery were engaged, but it was not until about one o’clock that the real attack of the Confederates began. From that time on until nine in the evening the battle waged with relentless fury at one spot or another, until, seeing they could not force the Federals from their chosen position, the army of the South withdrew, and McClellan was allowed to go his own way. The losses during the retreat from before Richmond were over fifteen thousand men upon each side. Early in the morning the Goreville Volunteers found themselves resting upon their arms on a small elevation some distance from the main hill. Here was planted a strong battery which they had been called upon to support. So far this battery had not been into action, but now, at eleven o’clock, it began to belch forth at the Confederates who were advancing in a hollow of the woods below. Only a few shots were fired, the men in gray taking to cover as soon as possible. “We’re out for hot work to-day,” said Louis, decidedly. “General Lee is going to do his level best to break our backbone.” “Yah, und maybe it vos his own packbone vill got proke,” put in Hans Roddmann. “I been fightin’ so much der last week it seems like I can’t do noddings else.” One man had disappeared from the ranks without being either killed or wounded. That was Jerry Rowe. Two days before Jerry had flung down his gun and started on a run for Harrison Landing, and there he was now, skulking among the wagons, waiting for the troops to embark for Washington. Fortunately, neither side had many such arrant cowards as this lad was. “Attention!” came the cry. “Look to your guns, boys, and see if they are loaded and in good condition. No play to-day. The general expects every man to do his duty.” “We will! We will! Down with the rebs! Let us drive ’em clear back to Richmond!” “Hurrah for Little Mac!” Two hours went by, and again the battery opened up, as a long line of men in gray were seen coming through the hollow at double-quick. The shots did good execution, but the line came on through the brush, over fallen trees and rocks, until it was advancing straight up the little hill. “Company, attention! Charge bayonets! Forward!”