“We gradually forced our way over the works, but the Rebels were game to the last, and we had to make them surrender almost one at a time.  The artillerymen tried to fire on us when we were so close we could lay our hands on the guns.

“Finally nearly all in the works surrendered, and were disarmed and marched back.  Just then an aid came dashing up with the information that we must turn the works, and get ready to receive Hardee, who was advancing to retake the position.  We snatched up some shovels lying near, and began work.  We had no time to remove the dead and dying Rebels on the works, and the dirt we threw covered them up.  It proved a false alarm.  Hardee had as much as he could do to save his own hide, and the affair ended about dark.

“When we came to count up what we had gained, we found that we had actually taken more prisoners from behind breastworks than there were in our brigade when we started the charge.  We had made the only really successful bayonet charge of the campaign.  Every other time since we left Chattanooga the party standing on the defensive had been successful.  Here we had taken strong double lines, with ten guns, seven battle flags, and over two thousand prisoners.  We had lost terribly—­not less than one-third of the brigade, and many of our best men.  Our regiment went into the battle with fifteen officers; nine of these were killed or wounded, and seven of the nine lost either their limbs or lives.  The Thirty-Eighth Ohio, and the other regiments of the brigade lost equally heavy.  We thought Chickamauga awful, but Jonesboro discounted it.”

“Do you know,” said another of the Fourteenth, “I heard our Surgeon telling about how that Colonel Grower, of the Seventeenth New York, who came in so splendidly on our left, died?  They say he was a Wall Street broker, before the war.  He was hit shortly after he led his regiment in, and after the fight, was carried back to the hospital.  While our Surgeon was going the rounds Colonel Grower called him, and said quietly, ’When you get through with the men, come and see me, please.’

“The Doctor would have attended to him then, but Grower wouldn’t let him.  After he got through he went back to Grower, examined his wound, and told him that he could only live a few hours.  Grower received the news tranquilly, had the Doctor write a letter to his wife, and gave him his things to send her, and then grasping the Doctor’s hand, he said: 

“Doctor, I’ve just one more favor to ask; will you grant it?’

“The Doctor said, ‘Certainly; what is it?’

“You say I can’t live but a few hours?’

“Yes; that is true.’

“And that I will likely be in great pain!’

“I am sorry to say so.’

“Well, then, do give me morphia enough to put me to sleep, so that I will wake up only in another world.’

“The Doctor did so; Colonel Grower thanked him; wrung his hand, bade him good-by, and went to sleep to wake no more.”