The men in grey had formed a new line of battle and faced the Sudley and New Market road. Far up this road could now be seen a mighty cloud of dust which marked the approach of the main body of McDowell's Union army. He had made a wide flank movement, crossed Bull Run at Sudley Ford and was attempting to completely turn the Confederate position, while Sherman held the stone bridge with a demonstration of force. A cheer swept the line as the dust rose higher and denser and nearer. Banks of storm clouds were rising from the horizon. The air was thick and oppressive, as the two armies drew close in tense battle array. The turning movement had only been partly successful. It had been discovered before complete and a grey line had wheeled, gripped their muskets and stood ready to meet the attack. The dust, cloud suddenly fell. McDowell's two divisions of eighteen thousand men spread out in the woods and made ready for the shock. The sun burst through the gathering clouds for a moment and the edge of the woods flashed with polished steel. A Federal battery dashed into position and placed one of its big black-wheeled guns in the front yard of a little white-washed farmhouse. The farmer's wife faced the commander with indignant fury: "Take that thing outen my front yard!" The dust-and sweat-covered men paid no attention. They quickly sunk the wheels into the ground and piled their shells in place for work. The old woman stamped her foot and shouted again: "Take that thing away I tell you--I won't have it here!" The captain seized his lanyard, trained his piece and the big black lips roared. With a scream of terror the woman covered her ears, rushed inside and slammed the door. They found her torn and mangled body there after the battle. An answering shell had crashed through the roof and exploded. Sherman's men, standing in the woods before the stone bridge waiting orders, saw the white and blue fog of battle rise above the tree tops and felt the earth tremble beneath their feet. And then came to John's ears the first full crash of musketry fire in close deadly range. As company, regiment and brigade joined in volley after volley, it was like the sound of the continuous ripping of heavy canvas, magnified on the scale of a thousand. As the storm cloud swept over the smoke-choked field the rattle of musketry sounded as if an angry God rode somewhere in their fiery depths, and with giant hand was ripping the heavens open! An hour passed and a shout of triumph swept the Federal lines. They charged and drove the Confederate forces back a half mile from their first stand. There was a lull--a strange silence brooded over the flaming woods and the guns opened from their new position--the artillery's deep thunder and the ripping crash of muskets. Another hour and another wild shout of victory. They had driven the Southerners three quarters of a mile further. The shouts suddenly stopped. They had struck something.