The men were in position, eagerly awaiting the signal; their quick intelligence had already realised the situation, and all was life and animation.  Across the narrow clearing stretched the long grey lines, penetrating far into the forest on either flank; in the centre, on the road, were four Napoleon guns, the horses fretting with excitement; far to the rear, their rifles glistening under the long shafts of the setting sun, the heavy columns of A.P.  Hill’s division were rapidly advancing, and the rumble of the artillery, closing to the front, grew louder and louder.  Jackson, watch in hand, sat silent on “Little Sorrel,” his slouched hat drawn low over his eyes, and his lips tightly compressed.  On his right was General Rodes, tall, lithe, and soldierly, and on Rodes’ right was Major Blackford.

“Are you ready, General Rodes?” said Jackson.

“Yes, sir,” said Rodes, impatient as his men.

“You can go forward, sir,” said Jackson.

6 P.M.

A nod from Rodes was a sufficient order to Blackford, and the woods rang with the notes of a single bugle.  Back came the responses from bugles to right and left, and the skirmishers, dashing through the wild undergrowth, sprang eagerly to their work, followed by the quick rush of the lines of battle.  For a moment the troops seemed buried in the thickets; then, as the enemy’s sentries, completely taken by surprise, fired a few scattered shots, and the guns on the turnpike came quickly into action, the echoes waked; through the still air of the summer evening rang the rebel yell, filling the forest far to north and south, and the hearts of the astonished Federals, lying idly behind their breastworks, stood still within them.

So rapid was the advance, so utterly unexpected the attack, that the pickets were at once over-run; and, crashing through the timber, driving before it the wild creatures of the forest, deer, and hares, and foxes, the broad front of the mighty torrent bore down upon Howard’s flank.  For a few moments the four regiments which formed his right, supported by two guns, held staunchly together, and even checked for a brief space the advance of O’Neal’s brigade.  But from the right and from the left the grey infantry swarmed round them; the second line came surging forward to O’Neal’s assistance; the gunners were shot down and their pieces captured; and in ten minutes the right brigade of the Federal army, submerged by numbers, was flying in panic across the clearing, Here, near Talley’s Farm, on the fields south of the turnpike and in the forest to the north, another brigade, hastily changing front, essayed to stay the rout.  But Jackson’s horse-artillery, moving forward at a gallop, poured in canister at short range; and three brigades, O’Neal’s, Iverson’s, and Doles’, attacked the Northerners fiercely in front and flank.  No troops, however brave, could have long withstood that overwhelming rush.  The slaughter was very great; every mounted officer was shot down, and in ten or fifteen minutes the fragments of these hapless regiments were retreating rapidly and tumultuously towards the Wilderness Church.