As our brother South Carolinians, of McGowan’s Brigade, were on the opposite side of us, and in the heat of the fray, while we remained idle, I take the liberty of quoting from “Caldwell’s History” of that brigade a description of the terrible scenes being enacted on that memorable night in the Wilderness in which Jackson fell: 

“Now it is night.  The moon a day or two past full, rose in cloudless sky and lighted our way.  We were fronted, and then advanced on the right of the road into a thick growth of pines.  Soon a firing of small arms sprang up before us, and directly afterwards the enemy’s artillery opened furiously, bearing upon us.  The scene was terrible.  Volley after volley of musketry was poured by the Confederate line in front of us upon the enemy.  The enemy replied with equal rapidity; cheer, wild and fierce, rang over the whole woods; officers shouted at the top of their voices, to make themselves heard; cannon roared and shells burst continuously.  We knew nothing, could see nothing, hedged in by the matted mass of trees.  Night engagements are always dreadful, but this was the worst I ever knew.  To see your danger is bad enough, but to hear shells whizzing and bursting over you, to hear shrapnell and iron fragments slapping the trees and cracking off limbs, and not know from whence death comes to you, is trying beyond all things.  And here it looked so incongruous—­below raged, thunder, shout, shriek, slaughter—­above soft, silent, smiling moonlight, peace!”

The next morning A.P.  Hill was moving early, but was himself wounded, and General Jeb.  Stuart, of the cavalry, took command.  The fighting of Jackson’s Corps to-day surpassed that of the night before, and after overcoming almost insurmountable obstacles, they succeeded in dislodging Hooker from his well fortified position.

Kershaw remained in his line of battle, keeping up a constant fire with his skirmishers.  An advance upon the Chancellor’s House was momentarily expected.  The long delay between the commencement of Jackson’s movement until we heard the thunder of his guns immediately in our front and in rear of the enemy, was taken up in conjecturing, “what move was next.”  All felt that it was to be no retreat, and as we failed to advance, the mystery of our inactivity was more confounding.

Early next morning, however, the battle began in earnest.  Hooker had occupied the night in straightening out his lines and establishing a basis of battle, with the hope of retrieving the blunder of the day before.  Stuart (or rather A.P.  Hill, until wounded,) began pressing him from the very start.  We could hear the wild yells of our troops as line after line of Hooker’s were reformed, to be brushed away by the heroism of the Southern troops.  Our skirmishers began their desultory firing of the day before.  The battle seemed to near us as it progressed, and the opening around Chancellor’s House appeared to be alive with the enemy’s artillery.