moment or two and helped themselves.  But their wants were few, or at least that of which they could carry, so they grab a slice of bacon, a piece of bread, a blanket, or an overcoat, and were soon in line again following up the enemy.  There was no attempt of alignment until we had left the breastworks, then a partial line of battle was formed and the pursuit taken up.  Major Todd, of the Third, having received a wound just as we crossed the works, the command of the regiment devolved on the writer.  The angle of the creek cutting off that portion of the brigade that was in rear, left the Second and Third detached, nor could we see or hear of a brigade commander.  The troops on our right had advanced several hundred yards, moving at right angle to us, and were engaging the enemy, a portion that had made a stand on the crest of a hill, around an old farm house.  Not knowing what to do or where to go, and no orders, I accepted Napoleon’s advice to the lost soldier, “When a soldier is lost and does not know where to go, always go to where you hear the heaviest firing.”  So I advanced the regiment and joined it on the left of a Georgia brigade.  Before long the enemy was on the run again, our troops pouring volley after volley into them as they fled over stone fences, hedges, around farm houses, trying in every conceivable way to shun the bullets of the “dreaded gray-backs.”  I looked in the rear.  What a sight!  Here came stragglers, who looked like half the army, laden with every imaginable kind of plunder—­some with an eye to comfort, had loaded themselves with new tent cloths, nice blankets, overcoats, or pants, while others, who looked more to actual gain in dollars and cents, had invaded the suttler’s tents and were fairly laden down with such articles as they could find readiest sale for.  I saw one man with a stack of wool hats on his head, one pressed in the other, until it reached more than an arm’s length above his head.  Frying-pans were enviable utensils in the army, and tin cups—­these articles would be picked up by the first who came along, to be thrown aside when other goods more tempting would meet their sight.

After getting the various brigades in as much order as possible, a general forward movement was made, the enemy making only feeble attempts at a stand, until we came upon a stone fence, or rather a road hedged on either side by a stone fence, running parallel to our line of battle.  Here we were halted to better form our columns.  But the halt was fatal—­fatal to our great victory, fatal to our army, and who can say not fatal to our cause.  Such a planned battle, such complete success, such a total rout of the enemy was never before experienced—­all to be lost either by a fatal blunder or the greed of the soldier for spoils.  Only a small per cent comparatively was engaged in the plundering, but enough to weaken our ranks.  It was late in the day.  The sharpshooters (Third Battalion) had been thrown out in a cornfield