Grape and canister from fifty cannon forbid the advance. Wood, Sheridan, Baird, Johnson, Willich, Hazen, Beatty, Carlin, Turchin, Vanderveer, catching the spirit from the men, shout, “Up, boys! To the top!” and grape and canister, wounds and death are forgotten. On and on and up and up we go, “while all the world wondered.” Grant turns to Thomas, and, with distress if not anger in his voice, says, “Who ordered those men up the ridge?” Replies our old hero, “I don’t know, I did not.” Says Grant, “Granger, did you?” “No,” says Granger, “they started without orders. When those fellows get started, all hell can’t stop them.” With hearts in their throats these anxious chieftains watch. The spectators in Chattanooga hold their breath in terrible suspense. It looks a desperate venture, a foolhardy effort. Can they make the top, or will they be driven back to the plain, with columns broken and ranks disordered? The musketry fire from the intrenched line in grey is murderous. The cannon belch forth incessantly. “It is as though men fought upon the earth and fiends in the upper air.” Not a shot from the wedge-shaped lines in blue as they advance with the colors of regiments at the apex of the triangles. Sixty regiments in rivalry for the lead! Colors fall as their bearers sink in death, but other stout arms nerved by brave hearts bear the flag aloft. Ah! the lines waver! they cannot make it! But repulse means defeat and loss of all we have gained. Look! again they go forward! Will they reach the crest? See! the answer! A flag! the nation’s flag! Our flag upon the top! Another, and yet another! The crest breaks out in glory! It is the apotheosis of the banner of the free! The rebel lines are broken! We are into their works! Cheer upon cheer “set the wild echoes flying” from Tunnel Hill to Lookout! They tell of victory! glorious, exultant victory. Forty pieces of cannon and 7,000 stand of arms with 6,000 prisoners captured give emphasis to the story. [Illustration: GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS AND STAFF AFTER THE BATTLE OF MISSION RIDGE.] The bars are down for entrance next campaign to Atlanta, gate city of the South. I went through the starvation siege of Chattanooga, the battles of Orchard Knob and Mission Ridge, and the winter march to relieve Burnside, who was penned up in Knoxville, in very uncomfortable plight, depending upon my brother officers for the clothing to keep me warm, but that which caused me the most distress was the loss, as I naturally supposed, forever, of the twin revolvers that rest now so peacefully before us, reminders of a time of great happenings by the side of which all else in life seems of trifling importance. SCENE IV. THE REUNION. [Illustration: “UPON THE WALL HUNG THE GOOD SWORD, WITH THE DENT IN ITS SCABBARD.”]