hour or so afterward we were marched in column across a field of burning grass, and halted for nearly another hour upon a rise of ground, under the direct rays of a burning sun. During this pause Captain Crane and myself sought what shade we could under a dwarf pine-bush and beneath our handkerchiefs, and looked at some photographs of friends at home.
He was in good spirits, and said that he was hopeful of our success.
At the order to move forward we separated, never to meet again.
The regiment went up the road at double-quick, became entangled in the woods, and while three companies, of which mine was one, became engaged on the right, the main body, headed by Colonel Hartwell and Captain Crane (on horseback), charged directly through the narrow gorge of the road toward the enemy's batteries.
The charge of three hundred men, cramped and broken by the narrowness of the path, exposed to canister at close range from seven guns, and in the focus of an infantry fire from over a thousand rifles, was utterly vain, and those men who escaped death fell back into the woods, leaving the brook which filtered across the road piled with slain, among whom was the gallant Captain.
I have heard that he was instantly killed by a shot through the head, and attracted the attention of the Rebels, who held the field after the battle, by his fine, handsome face and touching attitude.
He was honorably buried,—so we learn from participants in the battle,—both out of respect for his bravery and because of his being a newly made Freemason.
In a recent search over the battle-field, however, I was unable to find any separate graves.
In probity, singular purity of life and conversation, in upright manliness and military talent, I know of no young man who could surpass the brave soldier who thus met death and an unmarked grave, not in victory, but in defeat.
It was a sad loss to us who remained.
The men of his company almost idolized him.
Brevet Brigadier-General A. S. Hartwell
thus describes the same occurrence:—
In November, 1865, he took a few days of rest, to spend Thanksgiving with some friends at Port Royal.
On his return he found his regiment at Hilton Head starting upon an expedition, but his company left behind at Fort Delafield on Folly Island.
He volunteered to go in any position where his services were needed, and was assigned to my staff as aid. While going up Broad River in a dense fog, with no pilot and with uncertainty whether the vessel