We were rapidly approaching Culp’s Hill through one of the densest woods I ever passed. Darkness was upon us, and nothing could be seen save the flash of an occasional musket in our front. More and more difficult became the ascent, but over every obstacle pressed the devoted division. Not a shot was now heard, and the woods seemed inhabited but by ourselves. What has become of the enemy? In an instant the question is answered, as the heavens are lighted up by the flash of thousands of muskets, and the deadly Minnie tear and rend our ranks fearfully. The column reeled and staggered like a drunken man. To add to the horrors of the situation, a fire was also opened upon us in rear by a body of our own troops, who receiving some of the bullets that escaped us mistook us for the enemy. Men fell like autumn leaves; but the brave fellows disdained to retreat. The enemy’s fire was returned, though with little effect, as they were protected by their breastworks. No command could be heard above the infernal din. What was to be done? To stand there was certain death, and therefore, why not sell our lives dearly as possible? At this moment the heroic Walton approached me and asked “what on earth shall we do?” “As I am not in command of the battalion, I can do nothing,” was my reply. “Well, I shan’t wait for orders any longer, but will charge the works if I lose every man in my regiment. Take the responsibility and charge with your left at the same time.” “I’ll do it,” was my response, and hastily detaching the companies of Captains Torsch, Stewart and Crane, with Walton, dashed at the breastworks, cleared them in a moment, with the loss of but three men, and instantly wheeling to the right opened a destructive, enfilading fire upon the enemy who still remained in the breastworks, which compelled them to fall back to Culp’s Hill. On our right Nicholl’s brigade of Louisianians had not been so successful, and there the fight still raged. The enemy here held a stronger position, and could not be dislodged. As the firing in our front had ceased temporarily, I took advantage of it to go in search of Colonel Herbert, from whom I wanted further orders, and to whom I wished to report my situation. Upon reaching the right of the battalion, however, I was grieved to learn, through Lieutenant George Thomas, that the gallant Colonel had been pierced at the first fire by no less than three balls, and carried from the field in a supposed dying condition. Sending for the commanders of companies, with the view to ascertain their respective losses, I was shocked at the reports made by them. Nearly one hundred men had fallen in the Second Maryland alone, and at least three hundred in the brigade, during those few dreadful minutes.