198 Southern Historical Society Papers.
struck did not have a chance to, or anyway they did not, form any regular line against us, but with a few shots fled to the rear, we pursuing toward the 'Pike and obliquely toward Middletown, as we were still holding the right of the advance. Every now and then we struck some fresh troops. Each succeeding body, having more time to make formation, gave us harder fighting, but none stood against our charges, but broke and fled. In fact, it was the most complete rout I ever saw. Finally, we had crossed the pike, and still advancing, we saw quite a large body rallying on the brow of an elevation in the edge of a woods, with a stone fence in their front on edge of a woods between us; the land sloped down gradually from our position to a low boggy space, through which a small stream (called Marsh Run, I think) ran about forty or fifty feet from and nearly parallel to their position, and from which was a more sharp or steep rise to their position.
This position, we were ordered to charge and capture. Straight- ening our line as we moved forward, swinging a little to the right, so as to get our left upon an even line with our right, and about the same distance from the enemy, our men moved as on parade I never saw them in better line. I was on the right of the brigade (in fact, on the right of the army) and in front of our lines. I could see the whole movement as I glanced down the line, viewing it with pride born of the remembrance of the glorious work already done that day (and as many days before) and the conviction that the enemy could not stand against our charge, and another glorious victory won.
THAT "REBEL YELL."
Onward we charge, the shell is screaming and bursting, and the rifle balls whistling and spattering through and around us that yell, that glorious old "Rebel Yell" ringing in my ears. With that eager, fiery, exulting feeling, which only just such a situation can produce almost over the low-land, within about 40 feet of the enemy our lines went forward. The enemy's lines appeared to waver and success was almost in hand, when a minie ball struck me square in front in my lower neck in that little V in the breastbone and passed back into the muscles in front of the backbone, where it has lodged to this day.
As our column came up and passed me, some of our men caught me as I was falling off of my horse, and straighteing me out on the
