The long, summer-day’s sun was going down, a dismal gray light enveloped heaven and earth; after the battle warm, unpleasant winds were sweeping over bloodstained grass, and the din of war of a short time before was followed by an awful silence, except for the scattered reports of rifles, with thin, dull, spiritless sound. This was the repulsed enemy’s random shooting to give vent to their anger and regret—it was quite an amusement for us. All of a sudden, dark clouds were vomited by mountain peaks, the whole sky became black in a moment, lightning and thunder were followed by bullet-like drops of rain; nature seemed to repeat the same desperate, bloody scene that we had presented a short while before. This battle of the elements was an additional hardship for our men,—they had not even trees for shelter,—all looked like rats drenched in water! We spent the night on this mountain in the rain, listening to the neighing of our horses at its foot. A severe battle is usually followed by a heavy storm or shower. When the battle is at its height, the sky is darkened with powder-smoke and the whole scene is dismal and dreary. Presently a heavy shower and deafening thunders come to wash away all impurities of the battle-field. This rain is called “the tears of joy for the victor, and the tears of sorrow for the defeated;” it is also the tears of mourning for the dead comrades. Such a stormy night was almost sure to be utilized by the enemy to recover the lost position. But we were not off our guard after our victory, as the enemy may have imagined—the roar of thunder or the fall of rain did not make us less vigilant. Each time they visited us, we were sure to dismiss them at the gate, thanking them for their fruitless visit. Once we occupy a place, a line of strict vigilance is spread all around, ready to meet the enemy’s counter-surprise at any moment. This is what we call “tightening the string of the helmet in victory.”[42]