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[152] He found each, supported by a small regiment, so reduced by the Valley campaign as to admit of no further reduction. On his return, he met the General and staff coming up the road in a trot, and reported the facts to him. Jackson's face was in a blaze of enthusiasm; his whole expression lighted with the fervor of his feelings. “Take all the infantry in, Colonel,” said he; “I shall support the batteries with cavalry, and, Johnson, make your men shoot like they are shooting at a mark, slow and low, hit them here and here,” thrusting the Colonel in the waist with his forefinger at the words. It was the first and last time the Colonel ever heard the General call any one by his name. “How and where shall I go in?” “Over there,” pointing to the left. “When I break them, which way shall I push?” “Press that way,” swinging his arm toward the right. We since see that his order was intended to break McClellan's right and then sweep down in rear. Colonel Johnson immediately obeyed the order, and we marched steadily on until the bursting shell and whizzing balls and wounded, limping men showed us we were approaching the point at issue. Just at the edge of a ditch we were halted and dressed carefully. The ground was impassible, and the horses were sent back. The Colonel said, “Men, we alone represent Maryland here; we are few in number, but for that reason our duty to our State is greater, we must do her honor!” Forward then we went as quickly as a waist-deep morass and undergrowth would permit, and emerging into open ground, were made to reform and lay down until every man had gotten over.

We were then just at the crest of a hill on the side of a wide field, with no obstruction in front for half a mile nearly. The farther side was covered with a thick curtain of smoke rolling backward and forward, in which only incessant lurid flashes of musketry could be seen. Occasionally a small group would emerge, bearing a wounded man, or a frightened soldier would run back. Some distance to the left was a large battery, sweeping the whole plateau. From the front came an incessant rain of bullets. Directly to the left the most tremendous roar of small arms proved a desperate struggle. “Up men,” was the order. Just in front was a regiment lying down. “Never mind, we can march through,” was said to them as they attempted to move. “Shoulder, arms; right shoulder shift, arms. Forward, march!” The regiment moved forward as it never moved on drill, as steady and as straight as a line: on it went, over that dreadful plain strewed with dead and wounded. The Colonel just in front of the colors, every officer in place, the file-closers dressed as if on parade, the hospital attendants with the surgeon, Dr. Johnson, and assistant surgeon, Dr. Latimer,

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