Then he instructed Colonel Blake to support the Fifth, and charge when necessary. The three squadrons of lancers were placed on the right of the third battery just at the moment that it was limbering up preparing to retreat, as it was wholly unsupported. Upon the arrival of the cavalry the artillerymen loaded their guns again and opened fire. No sooner had General Cooke left the line of men in their short jackets with yellow trimmings, who were sitting on their horses and sustaining without any return the galling fire that was being poured in upon them, than Captain Whiting rode ahead, and wheeling his horse, cried: "Cavalry, attention! Draw sabres!" The metallic clash of the blades ran along the eager line. "Boys, we must charge in five minutes," said the Captain, over his shoulder, as he stroked the neck of his big brown horse. But almost before he had stopped speaking the bayonets of the advancing Confederates were seen just beyond the cannon that were blazing away in front. They were hardly fifty rods distant. Turning in the saddle, Captain Whiting gave the order: "Trot, march!" and as soon as the whole line had started, he shouted "Charge!" at top voice. At once, with a wild cheer, in solid column, the cavalry broke forward. It was the first big Union charge of the war. There was not a man but what was determined to save those guns if possible, and to emulate the bravery of the artillerists, who had won for themselves long before this the names of heroes, in the North. As they swept past the guns it was necessary for the line to deploy right and left. As they ranged up, it was seen that at one of the pieces every man had been shot down, and one of the troopers as he rode by noticed a wounded man struggling by the aid of the spokes of the wheel of the gun to gain his feet and pull the lanyard. "I'll bet he'll fire that gun," said the trooper to himself, and kept off to the right. That gun was fired, and if it had not been for this trooper's quick thought it would have swept him down as the charge cut a gap through the advance-line of the enemy. But now they were within striking-distance, charging an army. The sound of the sabre strokes was heard on every hand; the smoke from the volley that had been poured into them, mingled with the dust, in the fading light, rendered everything obscure. Men fought through the lines and fought back again; but the rebel onslaught was stayed, and just then, not being able to tell friend from foe in the gloom, the Union artillery opened up from the rear with shrapnel and canister. It fell amongst the intermingled fighting crowd, bearing down the Union horsemen as well as the advancing men of Hood's brave Southerners.