That which interested me more particularly, however, was the scene nearer at hand—­the stragglers, the wounded, the skulkers, the disorganized bodies of men, the wearied commands which had been fighting since daylight, now doggedly falling back, relieved by new arrivals, yet unwilling to go.  They were not beaten, and their officers had fairly to drive them from the field, and when they halted the men faced to the front.  It was all a scene of wild confusion, the roar of guns incessant, the air full of powder smoke, shells bursting here and there, and constantly the shouts of men.  Ammunition wagons blocked the pike, soldiers thronging about them to stuff cartridges into emptied belts; a battery of artillery dashed past, recklessly scattering the surging mass to left and right, as its horses, lashed into frenzy, plunged forward toward the fighting line; horsemen galloped back and forth, commanding, imploring, swearing, as they endeavored to reform the mob into a reserve column; riderless horses dashed about, resisting capture; and a runaway team of mules, dragging behind the detached wheels of an army wagon, mowed a lane straight across the open field.  Men lay everywhere sleeping, so exhausted the dead and living looked alike; there were ghastly bandages, dust-caked faces, bloody uniforms, features blackened by powder, and limping figures helped along by comrades.  Empty ammunition wagons loaded again with wounded, went creaking slowly to the rear, the sharp cries of suffering echoing above the infernal din.  Just outside the gate, under the tree shadows, was established a field hospital, a dozen surgeons working feverishly amid the medley of sounds.  I had heretofore seen war from the front, in the excitement of battle, face to face with the enemy, but this sickened me.  I felt my limbs tremble, the perspiration bead my face.  I now knew what war was, stripped of its glamour, hideous in its reality of suffering and cruelty.  For a moment I felt remorse, fear, a cowardly desire to escape, to get away yonder, beyond the reek of powder, the cries of pain.  The awful vista gripped me as if by spectral fingers.  But for the movement just then of that cavalry regiment, recalling me to duty, I half believe I should have run, not from fright but to escape the horror.

They were moving forward past the front of the house, the men still on foot, gripping the leather at their horses’ bits, the restive animals plunging so wildly as to make it seem more the advance of a mob than a disciplined body.  A shell exploded in the road to their left, tearing a hole in the white pike, and showering them with stones.  I could see bleeding faces where the flying gravel cut.  Another shrieked above, and came to earth just in front of the house, shattering the front steps into fragments, and leaving one of the wooden pillars hanging, unsupported.  Yet with no halt or hesitancy, the gray mass moved slowly across the lawn, and then deliberately formed in line beneath the trees of the orchard.