Here is the place.
We march by the left flank along the road a short distance, and halt, and front.
Here is the place.
Our left is near the brow of a low hill or rise.
It is so dark that we cannot see a man across the road.
's skirmishers are in front and open fire just abreast of our left flank.
In a short while a wounded man is borne along towards the rear, just behind our regiment.
Several men were holding him up, and he was trying to walk, when brave Sergeant Tom Fogg
recognized him, and said: ‘Great God, it is General Jackson
Then the order is given to deploy the regiment as skirmishers, and almost immediately the road was swept by such a destructive artillery fire as can only be imagined.
I don't believe the like was ever known before or since.
The darkness and the fire combined render it impossible to execute the movement.
The men drop on the ground.
calls upon the officers to do their duty (the last words he ever spoke). My company, which was the right company of the regiment, was wheeled to the left and marched through the storm down to the color line.
How beautifully the company responded to their captain's orders.
They were heroes among heroes.
The captain intended to deploy by the right flank as soon as he reached the color
line, but to get there was all that we could do. No man could stand and live.
Being just a little behind the brow before mentioned, most of the shells which missed the brow missed us while lying on the ground, and those which struck the brow ricochetted over us.
It was impossible for us to rise, so the men only raised their heads to fire, and to add to it all, the men in the darkness behind us, not knowing that we were there, opened fire on us.
After we had remained sufficient time for our lines to be established in our rear, Major Saunders
gave the order for us to fall back.