ey regarded us as marauders, with no high or patriotic purpose, but bent upon the destruction of the sacred things of the family fireside.
Our captures numbered at least 500, and our little regiment had again covered itself with glory.
Our losses had again been very severe and left a great gap in our already thinned ranks.
Our captain, TenEyck Howland, than whom no more intrepid soldier ever faced a foe, had fallen dead into the arms of his men, his heart pierced by a musket ball.
Lieut. Tracy Morton had also been killed.
My friend, Jimmie Norris, had suffered a like fate.
The total casualties were two officers and seven enlisted men killed, and one officer and twelve enlisted men wounded, nearly one-fifth of those who entered the battle.
After the battle we assembled on the top of the hill up which we had charged and stacked our arms in the open field, just outside of the woods.
Here we built fires and some of us took off and wrung out our wet and muddy pantaloons.
It was da