The shells still shrieked and exploded; the more treacherous and dangerous solid shot continually demolished objects within our sight.  For a few hours I was so utterly demoralized that my only thought was how to escape.  It seemed to me impossible that any body of soldiers could voluntarily expose themselves to such horrible danger.  I thought if I had been a soldier I must have deserted from my first battle-field.  But at last I grew calmer; my courage returned, and, urged by the necessity of finding shelter, I ventured out.  Not a place could I find.  The houses were closed and deserted, in many cases partly demolished by shot or shell, or, having taken fire, charred, smoking, and burnt to the ground.

All day frightened women and children cowered and trembled and hungered and thirsted in their underground places of refuge while the earth above them shook with constant explosions.  After a while I grew quite bold, and decided to stow myself and my boxes in the lower part of a house not far from the depot.  The upper story had been torn off by shells.  I could look through large holes in the ceiling up to the blue sky.  The next move was to find means of notifying my husband and his friends of my arrival.  I crept along the streets back to the depot, Tempe creeping by my side, holding fast to my dress.  Then I found an officer just going out to the trenches, and sent by him a pencilled note to Lieutenant Cluverius, thinking an officer would be likely to receive a communication, when a private might not.  Soon after sunset, my husband joined me, and soon after many friends.  They were all ragged, mud-stained, and altogether unlovely, but seemed to me most desirable and welcome visitors.

One of my boxes being opened, I proceeded to do the honors.  My guests having eaten very heartily, filled their haversacks, and, putting “a sup” in their canteens, returned to camp to send out a fresh squad.  The next that came brought in extra haversacks and canteens “for some of the boys who couldn’t get off,” and these also were provided for.

With the last squad my husband was compelled to go back to camp, as just then military rules were severe, and very strictly enforced.  I passed the night in an old, broken arm-chair, Tempe lying at my feet, and slept so soundly that I heard not a sound of shot or shell.  Very early next morning, however, we were awakened by a terrible explosion near us, and directly afterwards heard that within a hundred yards of our place of refuge a shell had exploded, tearing away the upper part of a house, killing a man and his three children, who were sleeping in one of the rooms.  This made me very uneasy, and increased Tempe’s terror to such an extent that she became almost unmanageable.  During the next day I actually became accustomed to the noise and danger, and “with a heart for any fate” passed the day.  At night my levee was larger than before; among them I had the satisfaction of seeing and supplying some Alabama, South Carolina, and Tennessee soldiers.  That night the bombardment was terrific.  Anxiety for my husband, combined with a shuddering terror, made sleep impossible.