From this time till about eleven o’clock, the battle continued to rage with equal intensity and equal advantages or disadvantages to both sides; and then for a time a short, general quiet prevailed. It had already been proven by the battle of the previous day, that the final issue of the contest turned upon the occupation of Cemetery Hill; and, therefore, all General Lee’s ingenuity was exercised to obtain a clue to its capture, as all General Meade’s military skill was put in force to retain his valuable position. The rebel general had made preparations early in the morning for an attack upon Meade’s entire line; and he had also concentrated a large body of his troops against the Union centre, with the design of taking the ground it occupied. In other respects, as well, the rebel forces were skillfully and powerfully placed. The Union artillery on Cemetery Hill was subjected to a half-circle of cross fires, from the skillful arrangement of the enemy’s troops; General Longstreet having massed fifty-five guns of long range upon the brow of a slight eminence in front of General Hill’s extreme right, and General Hill had massed sixty guns along the hill, in front of the heights held by the National troops. At one o’clock the signal gun was fired, and the cannonading commenced. The fire of the enemy was thus concentrated on the position held by the Eleventh and Second corps. It drew a most terrific response from the Federal batteries. It is thus described by a spectator in the Union army: “The storm broke upon us so suddenly that soldiers and officers—who leaped, as it began, from their tents, or from lazy siestas on the grass—were stricken in their rising with mortal wounds, and died, some with cigars between their teeth, some with pieces of food in their fingers, and one at least—a pale young German, from Pennsylvania—with a miniature of his sister in his hands. Horses fell, shrieking such awful cries as Cooper told of, and writhing themselves about in hopeless agony. The boards of fences, scattered by explosion, flew in splinters through the air. The earth, torn up in clouds, blinded the eyes of hurrying men; and through the branches of the trees and among the gravestones of the cemetery a shower of destruction crashed ceaselessly. As, with hundreds of others, I groped through this tempest of death for the shelter of the bluff, an old man, a private in a company belonging to the Twenty-fourth Michigan, was struck, scarcely ten feet away, by a cannon ball, which tore through him, extorting such a low, intense cry of mortal pain as I pray God I may never again hear. The hill, which seemed alone devoted to this rain of death, was clear in nearly all its unsheltered places within five minutes after the fire began.” The same contest is thus described by an eye-witness in the Confederate army: