Another annoyance was the enemy’s sharpshooters, armed with globe-sighted rifles.  These guns had a telescope on top of the barrel, and objects at a distance could be distinctly seen.  Brush screened their rifle pits, and while they could see plainly any object above our works, we could not see them.  A head uncautiously raised above the line, would be sure to get a bullet in or near it.

About one hundred yards in our rear, up the ravine, was a good spring of water.  The men could reach this in safety by going down the breastworks in a stooping posture, then up the ravine to the spring.  A recruit in the Second Regiment had gone to this spring and was returning.  When about twenty paces from the works he undertook, through a spirit of adventure; or to save a few steps, to run diagonally across the field to his regiment.  It was his last.  When about midway he was caught by a bullet from the enemy’s picket, and only lived long enough to call out, “Oh, mother!” Many lost their lives here by recklessness or want of caution.

After remaining in the trenches about two weeks, Kershaw’s Brigade was relieved by a part of Hoke’s Division and retired to some vacant lots in the city in good supporting distance of the front line.  We were not out of reach of the shells by any means; they kept up a continual screaming overhead, bursting in the city.  The soldiers got passes to visit the town on little shopping excursions, notwithstanding the continual bursting of the shells in the city.  The citizens of Petersburg, white and black, women and children, like the citizens of Charleston, soon became accustomed to the shelling, and as long as one did not drop in their immediate vicinity, little attention was paid to it.  One night after a furious bombardment the cry was heard, “The city is on fire; the city is on fire.”  A lurid glare shot up out of the very heart of the city, casting a dim light over the buildings and the camps near about.  Fire bells began ringing, and the old men rushing like mad to fight the fire.  As soon as the enemy discovered that the city was on fire, they concentrated all their efforts to the burning buildings.  Shells came shrieking from every elevated position on the enemy’s lines, and fell like “showers of meteors on a frolic.”  Higher and higher the flames rose until great molten-like tongues seemed to lick the very clouds.  The old men mounted the ladder like boys, and soon the tops of the surrounding buildings were lined with determined spirits, and the battle against the flames began in earnest.  We could see their forms against the dark back-ground, running hither and thither, fighting with all the power and energy of the brave and fearless men they were.  They paid no heed to the screaming, shrieking, bursting shells all around, but battled bravely to save the city.  After the burning of several contiguous buildings, the flames were gotten under control, and eventually the fire was extinguished.  I have seen many battles, but never more heroism displayed than by the old citizens and boys that night in Petersburg.  The soldiers were not allowed to leave their camp, and all the citizens of military age were away in the army, so the old men and boys had to fight this fire single-handed and alone, and amid a perfect storm of shot and shell.