At noon the firing commenced very briskly, and kept up all day. Each sentinel shooting his forty rounds. I myself, from the time I was put on picket-guard, until this morning, shot away sixty rounds, and during this I shot and wounded two umbras and one priest, who were constantly annoying me, and you ought to have seen the old priest jump, and his long stovepipe hat flying off the back of his shaved head. I must have hit him on the left leg (or he played opossum), for he immediately limped, and placed his left hand thereon. The Mexicans seemed to fire at me more than any other sentinel, and I made some very narrow hairbreadth escapes. One bullet cut a lock of my hair off, and grazed the skin a little; it burned like fire.
In the evening the Mexicans (cowardly dogs) attacked our hospital, and succeeded in setting fire to the main gate, and while in the act one of our riflemen, who was stationed near the hospital, was shot dead; at the same time falling into the fire, and he burned to a crisp. The firing became so severe that Gov. Childs detailed a party of soldiers, commanded by our Adjt. Welder, to charge, and take a point near our hospital; but by some misunderstanding, our men charged on a strong and well-constructed breastwork, which was constructed across the street about two squares from our quarters.
When the word "Charge" was given, we started off with a yell and charged on the breastworks, and captured it from the enemy. The Mexicans being over three hundred strong. They fired off the first shot, and then retreated; while our men were rallying and charging on these works, our old friend William Eurick fell mortally wounded. He being shot through the heart, and while in the act of falling he threw up his right hand, at the same time holding his musket, and with his left hand on his breast, he exclaimed in a clear and loud voice, "Oh! my God, I am shot!" These were the last words poor William Eurick, of Little York, Pa., spoke upon God's earth.