On reaching Zoar Church, some five miles in rear, we encountered Sedgwick’s advance line of skirmishers, and a heavy fusilade began.  Anderson formed line of battle on extreme right, and on right of plank road, with the purpose of sweeping round on the enemy’s left.  McLaws formed on left of the corps, his extreme left reaching out toward the river and across the road; Kershaw being immediately on right of the road, with the Second resting on it, then the Fifteenth, the Third Battalion, the Eighth, the Third, and the Seventh on the right.  On the left of the road leading to Fredericksburg was a large open field extending to the bluff near the river; on the right was a dense thicket of pines and undergrowth.  In this we had to form.  The Seventh experienced some trouble in getting into line, and many camp rumors were afloat a few days afterwards of an uncomplimentary nature of the Seventh’s action.  But this was all false, for no more gallant regiment nor better officered, both in courage and ability, was in the Confederate service than the “Bloody Seventh.”  But it was the unfavorable nature of the ground, the difficulties experienced in forming a line, and the crowding and lapping of the men that caused the confusion.

Soon after our line of battle was formed and Kershaw awaiting orders from McLaws to advance, a line of support came up in our rear, and mistaking us for the enemy, commenced firing upon us.  Handkerchiefs went up, calls of “friends,” “friends,” but still the firing continued.  One Colonel seeing the danger—­the enemy just in front, and our friends firing on us in the rear—­called out, “Who will volunteer to carry our colors back to our friends in rear?” Up sprang the handsome and gallant young Sergeant, Copeland, of the “Clinton Divers,” (one of the most magnificent and finest looking companies in his service, having at its enlistment forty men over six feet tall), and said, “Colonel, send me.”  Grasping the colors in his hand, he carried them, waving and jesticulating in a friendly manner, until he convinced the troops that they were friends in their front.

While thus waiting for Anderson to swing around the left of the enemy, a desperate charge was made upon us.  The cannonading was exceedingly heavy and accurate.  Great trees all around fell, snapped in twain by the shell and solid shot, and many men were killed and wounded by the falling timber.  Trees, a foot in diameter, snapped in two like pipe stems, and fell upon the men.  It was growing dark before Anderson could get in position, and during that time the troops never experienced a heavier shelling.  It was enough to make the stoutest hearts quake.  One of my very bravest men, one who had never failed before, called to me as I passed, “Captain, if I am not here when the roll is called, you may know where I am.  I don’t believe I can stand this.”  But he did, and like the man he was, withstood it.  Another, a young recruit, and under his first fire, almost became insane, jumping upon me and begging “for God’s sake” let him go to the rear.  I could not stand this piteous appeal, and knowing he could not be of any service to us in that condition, told him “to go.”  It is needless to say he obeyed my orders.  Dr. Evans, our surgeon, told me afterwards that he came to his quarters and remained three days, perfectly crazy.