But we had little time for reflection, for the clarion voice of Hood was heard the next instant to “fix bayonets,” and then came the command “forward, double-quick,” and the long line of glittering steel rushed madly down the hill. The collision was awful, and the enemy was unable to resist its force, though he stood to his work manfully. Gallant men fell by hundreds on both sides. The Federal troops gave way; and the field was covered with thousands of fugitives. The column in grey pressed on until it neared the village of Groveton. What is this dark mass seen in the twilight thundering down upon us, making the very earth tremble? The column halts. On come the gallant troopers. The sight is grand beyond description. Nearer and nearer they approach. They are almost upon us! “Fire,” is the command, and the heavens are lit up by the flash that leaps along the line; and when the smoke lifts, hundreds of riderless steeds are seen flying frantically across the plain, whilst the ground in front of us is covered with dead and wounded men and horses. In the excitement of the fight I had lost sight of my companions, and it was not until I heard a voice with the Celtic twang exclaiming, “Catch a harse, catch a harse,” that I was aware of the presence of Atkins. “Catch a harse, catch a harse,” I heard again, as a dozen riderless steeds dashed up the turnpike, “for I’m blasted if my command shall be infantry any longer.” Turning my head I saw him making frantic efforts to secure one of the frightened horses and his efforts were successful. I was not so fortunate. Seizing a bridle, I was leading my capture in triumph across the road, when giving a sudden plunge, he wrenched the rein from my hand and was off like the wind. Leaving my companion in ecstacies over his prize, I started after something to eat. But where was I to get it? The wagons were far in the rear, and being tired, I could not think of hunting them up. A happy thought suggested itself. The Federal soldiers generally carried a day or two’s rations. I will secure what some dead man has left. The idea may shock the sensibilities of the reader with a well-filled stomach, but a tired and hungry soldier is not much troubled with such wares. Crossing the Groveton road I threaded my way among the dead and wounded with a melancholy interest. A few minutes before the air had resounded with the shouts of infuriated men, the roar of artillery, and the rattle of small arms; but now all was still, save an occasional picket shot, and the groans and cries of those who had fallen wounded in the bloody strife.