faces that I had ever seen on earth. The roar and din of the battle in all its terror outstripped my most fanciful dreams of pandemonium. The wounded and butchered men who came out of the blue smoke in front of us and were dragged or sent hobbling to the rear, seemed like bleeding messengers come to tell us of the fate that awaited us. It was with the greatest sense of relief that we received orders to move to the left, to face again that awful wave of fire which seemed to be all the morning moving toward our flank. The Confederate divisions came into action at Shiloh Church by the right, with a view to penetrating to the river, and taking us in flank and rear. It was along in the afternoon some time that we were pushed over to the extreme left of the forward line. I had no watch, and could have no idea of the hour of the day, except as I saw the shadows formed by the sun. Up to this time our command had suffered but little, but a dreadful baptism of fire was awaiting us. For a moment I realized that we were on the extreme left of our army; that my regiment was the left of the brigade; that I was temporarily attached to Company B of the regiment, which practically placed me on the left flank of that heroic army. I know all this because there was no firing in our front, and no sound of battle to our left, but steady, steady, steady from the right of us rolled the volleys which told us that the enemy was working around to our vicinity. I saw General McArthur, our commander, at this point, and as I remember, his hand was wrapped with a handkerchief, as though he had been wounded. By his orders, we pushed across a deep ravine which ran parallel with our front, and in five minutes we had taken up a position on its opposite bank, facing the enemy. Everybody felt that the critical moment had come. The terrible nervous strain of that day was nothing compared with the feeling that now the time had come for us to show our mettle. The faces of that regiment were worth studying at that moment. Not one that was not pale; not a lip that was not close shut; not an eye that was not wild; not a hand that did not tremble in this awful, anxious moment. Presently the messengers came—pattering shots from out the dense growth in our front, telling of the advance of the skirmish line. On our part, no response. No enemy could be seen, but the purple wreaths of smoke here and there told of the men who were feeling their way toward our lines. A nervous man, unable to stand the strain, let off his musket in our line. This revealed our presence. With a suddenness that was almost appalling, there came from all along our front a crash of musketry, and the bullets shrieked over our heads and through our ranks. Then we delivered our fire. In an instant the engagement was general at this point. There were no breech-loaders in that command, and the process of loading and firing was tedious. As I delivered my second shot, a musket ball struck