Still amid this roar and carnage, the Federal forces were making sure headway, and driving the enemy before them. Except one brigade of Tyler’s division, the entire force of eighteen thousand men was in fierce action. As the Union forces pressed upon the enemy, approaching each moment to the completion of their plan of battle, the rebels grew desperate. The batteries on the western hills poured forth their iron tempest with accumulated fury. The Union guns answered them with fiercer thunder. The roar of the cannonading was deafening, drowning the volleys of riflemen, and sweeping off in one overpowering sound the rattle and crash of musketry. The clamor of the guns was appalling—the rush and tumult of action more appalling still. The whole valley was like a vast volcano, boiling over with dust and smoke. Through this turbid atmosphere battalions charged each other and batteries poured their hot breath on the air, making it denser than before. Now and then the dust would roll away from the plain, and the smoke float off from the hills, revealing a dash of cavalry across some open space, or a charge of infantry up to a fortified point where the struggle, success, or repulse, was lost or vaguely seen through volumes of rolling smoke—columns of ruddy dust trailed after the infantry, broken now and then by the fiery track of a battery masked in foliage. A sullen report, and horrid gaps appeared in what a moment before was a living wall of men. A curl of blue vapor rose gracefully from the trees, and it was only the dead bodies blackening the ground that made the sight so awful. But the fight gathered fiercest on the westward hill, from which the booming thunder rolled in long incessant peals. Its sides swarmed with armed men, changing positions, charging and retreating. Curtains of smoke, swayed by the wind, revealed the horses around a battery, rearing, plunging and falling headlong, dozens together, in one hideous death. Then in mercy the smoke drifted over the hill again. The enemy were giving ground at every point. The Mississippians had fled in dismay from the batteries, and desperately taken to the field in wavering columns. Other regiments were actually fleeing before the Union troops, but they were generally moving with sullen steadiness to the rear. The entire line which arrayed itself against Tyler in the morning had been relinquished, except one fortified elevation. Still their peculiar mode of warfare was kept up. Masked batteries were constantly opening in unexpected places, leaving heaps of slain in the track of their fiery hail. On the uplands whole regiments, seen from the distance, seemed to drive against or drift by each other, leaving beautiful curls and clouds of smoke behind; but under this smoke lay so many dead bodies that the soul grew faint in counting them.