Rather heavy resistance was encountered on the extreme right, and the turning movement did not materialize as rapidly as had been hoped.  General Wheaton, who was in command of the forces about the church, finally moved to the front, and as we were directly in the rear of his line and the Insurgents, as usual, overshot badly, we found ourselves in an uncomfortably hot corner.  Bullets rattled on the church roof like hail, and presently one passed through the opening through which Major Bourns, Colonel Potter, of the engineer corps, and I were sticking our heads.  Immediately thereafter we were observed by Dr. Sherman making record time on all fours along one of the framing timbers of the church toward its tower.  There we took up our station, and thereafter observed the fighting by peeping through windows partially closed with blocks of volcanic tuff.  We had a beautiful opportunity to see the artillery fire.  The guns were directly in front of and below us and we could watch the laying of the several pieces and then turn our field-glasses on the particular portions of the Insurgent trenches where the projectiles were likely to strike.  Again and again we caught bursting shells in the fields of our glasses and could thus see their effect as accurately as if we had been standing close by, without any danger of being perforated by shrapnel.

After the Insurgent position had been carried we walked forward to their line of trenches and followed it east to a point beyond the La Loma Church, counting the dead and wounded, as I had heard wild stories of tremendous slaughter and wanted to see just how much damage the fire of our troops had really done.  On our way we passed the Caloocan railroad station which had been converted into a temporary field hospital.  Here I saw good Father McKinnon, the champlain of the First California Volunteers, assisting a surgeon and soaked with the blood of wounded men.  He was one chaplain in a thousand.  It was always easy to find him.  One had only to look where trouble threatened and help was needed.  He was sure to be there.

On my way from the railway station to the trenches I met a very much excited officer returning from the front.  He had evidently had a long and recent interview with Cyrus Noble, [443] and was determined to tell me all about the fighting.  I escaped from him after some delay, and with much difficulty.  Later he remembered having met me, but made a grievous mistake as to the scene of our encounter, insisting that we had been together in “Wheaton’s Hole,” an uncommonly hot position where numerous people got hurt.  He persisted in giving a graphic account of our experiences, and in paying high tribute to my coolness and courage under heavy fire.  My efforts to persuade him that I had not been with him there proved futile, and I finally gave up the attempt.  I wonder how many other military reputations rest upon so slender a foundation!  This experience was unique.  I never saw another officer under the influence of liquor when in the field.