General Gregg ordered his brigade forward.  We marched down the wooded slope, Crenshaw firing over our heads.  We marched across the wooded hollow and began to ascend the slope of the opposite hill, still in the woods.

The advance through the trees had scattered the line; we halted and re-formed.  The pattering of bullets amongst the leaves was distinct; shells shrieked over us; we lay down in line.  Between the trunks of the trees we could see open ground in front; it was thick with men firing into us in the woods.  Those in our front were Zouaves, with big, baggy, red breeches.  We began to fire kneeling.  Leaves fell from branches above us, and branches fell, cut down by artillery.  Butler, of our company, lying at my right hand, gave a howl of pain; his head was bathed in blood.  Lieutenant Rhett was dead.  Rice, at my left, had found whiskey in the Yankee camp.  He had drunk the whiskey.  He raised himself, took long aim, and fired; lowered his gun, but not his body, gazing to see the effect, and yelled, “By God, I missed him!” McKenzie was shot.  Lieutenant Barnwell was shot.  The red-legged men were there and thicker.  Our colour went down, and rose.  We had gone into battle with two colours,—­the blue regimental State flag, and the battle-flag of the Confederate infantry.  Lieutenant-colonel Smith had fallen.

A lull came.  I heard the shrill voice of Gregg:—­

“Bri-ga-a-a-de—­ATTENTION!”

“Fi-i-i-x—­BAYONETS!”

“For-w-a-r-d—­” and the next I knew men were dropping down all around me, and we were advancing.  But only for a minute did we go forward.  From front and left came a tempest of lead; again the colours—­both—­fell, and all the colour-guard.  The colonel raised the colours.  We staggered and fell back; the retreat through the woods became disorder.

On top of our hill I could see but few men whom I knew,—­only six, but one of the six was Haskell.  The enemy had not advanced, but shell and shot yet raked the hill.  Crenshaw’s battery was again in full action.  We hunted our regiment and failed to find it.  Some regiment—­the Thirtieth North Carolina—­was advancing on our right.  Captain Haskell and his six men joined this regiment, placing themselves on its left.  The Thirtieth went forward through the woods—­reached the open—­and charged.

The regiment charged boldly; forward straight it went, no man seeing whither, every man with his mouth stretched wide and his voice at its worst.

Suddenly, down to the ground fell every man; the line had found a sunken road, and the temptation was too great—­down into the friendly road we fell, and lay with bodies flat and faces in the dust.

The officers waved their swords; they threatened the men; the men calmly looked at their officers.

A man on a great horse rode up and down the line urging, gesticulating.  He got near to Haskell—­

“Who are you?” shouted our Captain.