Of all that splendid but unavailing valor no one has told the story; nor can I. The pen has no wing to follow where that sacrifice and devotion sped their flight. But memory may rest down on some night scenes too quiet and sombre with shadow to be vividly depicted, and yet which have their interests from very contrast with the tangled and lurid lights of battle. The desperate charge was over. We had not reached the enemy’s fortifications, but only that fatal crest where we had seen five lines of battle mount but to be cut to earth as by a sword-swoop of fire. We had that costly honor which sometimes falls to the “reserve”--to go in when all is havoc and confusion, through storm and slaughter, to cover the broken and depleted ranks of comrades and take the battle from their hands. Thus we had replaced the gallant few still lingering on the crest, and received that withering fire which nothing could withstand by throwing ourselves flat in a slight hollow of ground within pistol shot of the enemy’s works, and mingled with the dead and dying that strewed the field, we returned the fire till it reddened into night, and at last fell away through darkness and silence. But out of that silence from the battle’s crash and roar rose new sounds more appalling still; rose or fell, you knew not which, or whether from the earth or air; a strange ventriloquism, of which you could not locate the source, a smothered moan that seemed to come from distances beyond reach of the natural sense, a wail so far and deep and wide, as if a thousand discords were flowing together into a keynote weird, unearthly, terrible to hear and bear, yet startling in its nearness; the writhing concord broken by cries for help, pierced by shrieks of paroxysm; some begging for a drop of water, some calling on God for pity; and some on friendly hands to finish what the enemy had so horribly begun; some with delirious, dreamy voices murmuring loved names, as if the dearest were bending over them; some gathering their last strength to fire a musket to call attention to them where they lay helpless and deserted; and underneath all the time, the deep bass note from closed lips too hopeless or too heroic to articulate their agony.