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[130] work could not have been accomplished without the most energetic courage and devotion to duty on the part of all the officers and men of the regiment. Of course there were variations and grades of skill and courage displayed in the performance of their duty; but I must refrain from special mention of any, where all deserve honor, for, with scarce an exception, the officers, from Lieutenant-Colonel Steadman, down through the field and staff and the line, displayed that high courage which is shown by earnest undivided attention to duty, without regard to the danger attending it. And how can I express my grateful commendation of the brave men whose devotion to duty enabled them, in order and out of order, to meet with prompt and bold alacrity every emergency of their notable advance?

The cost to us of this glorious work is the sad part of the story. We carried into the battle five hundred and twenty-one officers and men. Of these eighty-eight were killed, one hundred and sixty-four wounded and seventeen missing. The missing were killed or wounded, with one exception. A little boy, Josey Powell, fifteen years of age, remained on the field with his brother, who, in the moment of victory, just after the last line that I charged was broken, was mortally wounded by a shell from that battery up the road (D. H. Hill's). The little fellow was captured, and was not wounded. He was permitted by his guard to join me on the road to the hospital, and by the authorities there to remain with me during our captivity.

Our loss in killed and wounded in this action was really two hundred and sixty-eight out of the five hundred and twenty-one officers and men carried into the battle.

Of this large number time will not allow a detailed statement. Among the killed were those noble heroes, Captains Phinney, Lyles, Walker and Gaston. Among the wounded were your Colonel, and those gallant officers, Captain White and Lieutenants McFadden, Wylie, Moore, J. M. Brice and McAlilly.

Twenty years have passed since the war made its last rugged track over these quiet fields, and the actors in its scenes are fast passing away. A few years ago tidings of the death of our own grand old Commander, General Lee, sped from hamlet to hamlet, and a wail swept over the length and breadth of our Southland, which was not without response from the North. But the other day the great champion of the Union, General Grant, laid himself down to die, and passed quietly to his eternal rest. The flags are at half-mast all over this broad land, and the nation mourns.

None knew better the value of his services to his cause than

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Wylie (1)
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