“Along on the evening of the 31st our right wing seemed to have run against a hornet’s nest, and we could hear the musketry and cannon speak out real spiteful, but nothing came down our way.  We had struck the railroad leading south from Atlanta to Macon, and began tearing it up.  The jollity at Atlanta was stopped right in the middle by the appalling news that the Yankees hadn’t retreated worth a cent, but had broken out in a new and much worse spot than ever.  Then there was no end of trouble all around, and Hood started part of his army back after us.

“Part of Hardee’s and Pat Cleburne’s command went into position in front of us.  We left them alone till Stanley could come up on our left, and swing around, so as to cut off their retreat, when we would bag every one of them.  But Stanley was as slow as he always was, and did not come up until it was too late, and the game was gone.

“The sun was just going down on the evening of the 1st of September, when we began to see we were in for it, sure.  The Fourteenth Corps wheeled into position near the railroad, and the sound of musketry and artillery became very loud and clear on our front and left.  We turned a little and marched straight toward the racket, becoming more excited every minute.  We saw the Carlin’s brigade of regulars, who were some distance ahead of us, pile knapsacks, form in line, fix bayonets, and dash off with arousing cheer.

“The Rebel fire beat upon them like a Summer rain-storm, the ground shook with the noise, and just as we reached the edge of the cotton field, we saw the remnant of the brigade come flying back out of the awful, blasting shower of bullets.  The whole slope was covered with dead and wounded.”

“Yes,” interrupts one of the Fourteenth; “and they made that charge right gamely, too, I can tell you.  They were good soldiers, and well led.  When we went over the works, I remember seeing the body of a little Major of one of the regiments lying right on the top.  If he hadn’t been killed he’d been inside in a half-a-dozen steps more.  There’s no mistake about it; those regulars will fight.”

“When we saw this,” resumed the narrator, “it set our fellows fairly wild; they became just crying mad; I never saw them so before.  The order came to strip for the charge, and our knapsacks were piled in half a minute.  A Lieutenant of our company, who was then on the staff of Gen. Baird, our division commander, rode slowly down the line and gave us our instructions to load our guns, fix bayonets, and hold fire until we were on top of the Rebel works.  Then Colonel Este sang out clear and steady as a bugle signal: 

“‘Brigade, forward!  Guide center!  March!!’