They had yellow sashes around their waists, red caps with tassels, and leggings on their ankles. With our shots and those from the nine pieces of artillery they were mowed down like grass before the sickle. It appeared to me that the whole regiment was annihilated. Another line appeared quickly to take their place, and the battle waged hot and fast till toward nightfall, when General Grant withdrew his line into the thicket; and all through the night we lay on our arms expecting an attack, as the artillery he had placed some distance off boomed at us unceasingly. On the morning of May 6 eleven hundred Federals were dead on Palmer’s old field. All their haversacks had disappeared, and in many instances their knapsacks, and the pockets of each were turned inside out, showing that their pockets had been picked. Our men threw away their rations of corn bread, as they had three days’ rations of hard-tack, besides some bacon and coffee. When the Federals made their last charge, we were lying down firing, and after they retired I said to my cousin, who was by my side: “That was an impetuous charge.” Hearing no response from him, I looked and saw that a bullet had pierced his forehead, killing him instantly. I wrapped him in his oilcloth and blanket, and with the assistance of comrades buried him with a black-jack tree for his headstone, into which I cut with a knife the initials of his name, then wrote to his father telling him the spot in case he wished him removed to the old family burying ground, near Buckingham Church. Some months after, I received a letter from his father saying: “My son died like a true soldier on the field of battle, and I shall there let his bones rest.” After burying all of our dead, Lieutenant George Price, of my company, and I were sitting on a pine log to rest. All around was quiet except now and then a shot from sharpshooters. We were only a short distance from their line, and could see the Federal dead in the old field. We were talking of the dead boys, and the feelings of the folks at home when the news should reach them, when suddenly I heard a thud, and saw the blood gushing from above the heart of my lieutenant. I gathered him in my arms and lowered him to the earth. He did not speak, but from his inside pocket gave me a daguerreotype. On opening the case I saw the fair features of a James River young lady, and one whom I had heard play and sing “When This Cruel War Is Over.” On the morning of May 6 about sunrise one of our boys came into the lines with a pair of boots on his arm. He said that he had been trying all night to get the boots, but that every time he attempted to pull them off the soldier would open his eyes. He died just before this, and our comrade got the boots.