United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Presently I saw a movement among the trees, and I could make out a
mass of men clustering together just upon their edge. With a thrill,
I knew that for the first time I saw the enemy; and every sensation
was merged in a frantic desire to shoot, while every nerve within my
body was quivering with excitement. Then the Captain’s voice, steady
and cheerful, sounded along the line, with some sympathetic power
calming my shaking nerves and making every muscle as firm as iron.
“Ready! Aim low. Front rank men, fire!” A blaze of light ran along our
line, there was a deafening explosion, and a blinding smoke, through
which I could hear the bullets of the enemy as they whistled past. I
could see nothing, but I heard the voice of the Captain from my right
command, “Rear rank men, fire!” and as our second volley crashed out,
there came the order, “Load and fire at will.” And now it was crack!
crack! as fast as we could get the cartridges into our guns, shouting
and cheering as we did so, in answer to the rebel yells. At length our
shouts met no response. I heard the officer’s command, “Cease firing!”
the smoke swept away, and I found it was black night, through which I
could just see that I was one of about forty men, the remnant of the
squadron. I could hear a few slowly trotting back to the rear. I could
make out others on foot crossing the hill-top beyond, and could see a
mass of dead horses and one or two dead men still lying at my feet. For
a few minutes the Captain let us remove the corpses and destroy the
equipments of the dead animals, and then we withdrew triumphantly to
our comrades, the Captain telling us once that we had done well, and
then bewailing his fate that he commanded men who did not know how to
wheel by fours. That was my first acquaintance with rebel bullets, and
even the old soldiers said that it was the closest affair in which
they had ever been engaged.
Two days afterwards I heard, for the first time, the sound of a shell;
and I might as well make a clean breast of it, once for all, by
describing my sensations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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