The next day (Saturday, May 2), was comparatively quiet, although far to the right could be heard the deep, yet muffled sound of artillery firing, telling that Hooker was engaged. We made demonstrations all along our front, but did no real fighting. During the night, the firing on the right became very heavy,—and I was called into line at about 2 a. m., to go through ere another chance to sleep was afforded me, the most exciting experiences of my life. We were marched to the front, and posted in a ravine. With the first streaks of dawn came sounds of musketry firing on our right. It was the Light Division in the streets of Fredericksburg. Marching by the left flank we emerge from the ravine and take a position on the left, the second, and third and light divisions of our corps extending to the right. As we leave the ravine the enemy opens a heavy fire upon our devoted regiment, the hills on our front and right being aflame with the flashes of the “red artillery.” We advance rapidly, our general leading; our batteries gallop to the rising ground, and open on the enemy’s guns posted near the railroad embankment and which are doing the most execution. Our guns are splendidly served, and soon the rebel battery in front and its infantry supports are seen making quick time for the fortifications in the woods at the base of the hill. Now the guns on the hills redouble their fire, and the din is terrible. Men are falling at every step, and so fierce is the concentric artillery fire of the Confederates that our batteries have to be withdrawn. Not so the infantry. It is our part to keep the rebel force in front employed while the divisions on our right storm Marye’s Heights. So we keep steadily on until a ravine is reached running at right angles with the one we have left, and leading nearly up to the rebel entrenchments. The air is full of screaming shot and whistling shell, and as we near the entrance to the ravine, which is filled with a thick undergrowth of trees and bushes, our boys are ready to insist that at least five hundred rebel cannon have the range and are peppering us accordingly. Through the hell of fire we go, marching by the left flank and closing up our ranks with each breach, and into the ravine from which the enemy’s sharpshooters are seen to scamper like so many rats, as much to escape the range of their own cannon as that of our musketry, for we had not as yet fired a shot.—Here, by hugging the steep sides, we were partially sheltered and within half rifle practice of the foe posted behind their breastworks at the base of the hill. A brisk fusilade was kept up, and although we were unsupported and “in the air” we kept the Johnnies so busy that they did not attempt a sortie. By this time, also, the batteries on Marye’s Heights, which had enfiladed us, had as much as they could do nearer home, for Howe and Newton had begun their advance. It being deemed useless to attempt to do more than keep