he front and towards the river, across the open field.
I was standing on the parapet of the fort watching them.
The Federals trained their guns upon them, and I saw these brave soldiers killed.
Along with them were Lieutenant Allemong and Sergeant Beckman.
I knew them all well.
Ward Hopkins was a classmate with me in the South Carolina College, and no more knightly spirit ever served the Confederacy.
Beckman and I had gone to the same Sunday-school and church in our boyhood.
A Tadpole. Beckman and I had gone to the same Sunday-school and church in our boyhood.
During the night of the 17th the ammunition gave out, and it was brought up in an army wagon.
I had to distribute it to the regiments on our left.
I started with a detail, carried out my orders, and was returning to headquarters, when I missed my bridge and brought up in the swamp.
As bad luck would have it, the Federals made an attack at that time.
Then I was in the swamp and water, with the Federals in front of me, and the 25th regiment in rear of me. There was no alternative except t