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 commence firing! And fire we did, as rapidly as was ever done. But stop, just in my front the No. 2—poor Robert Hines—falls, having been shot through the temple; another man quickly fills his place at the gun. And right here the order to cease firing is heard. What for? Turning to look, you see that gallant old brigade—the 1st South Carolina—led by that hero, Maxey Gregg, pushing its way through the battery, many of whom will never return. What a shout went up as these noble Carolinians, with their old commander, passed through the battery in a double quick step. A minute or two elapses, when the field seems one living sheet of fire; we are at it again; now it is Sidney Strother, sergeant of the piece, who falls, mortally wounded. Such a scene I never before beheld; horses running hither and thither, many so shot as to be unfit for service again. The other guns also had suffered much, loosing many wounded, among them young Marion Knowles, shot in the knee, permanently disabled; Ben. V. Graves, who lost a leg; William B. Allen, M. A. Caldwell, Alonzo Phillips, and others, whose names I do not now recall. Such was the part played by this battery in this their first field fight. Immediately after that battle such was the condition of the battery, that it was ordered to Richmond to refit. (We left three guns and three caissons on the field of battle, disabled.) And glad enough, too, were the boys to see and shake hands with their loved ones. For our tents were pitched on the hill near the intersection of Venable street with the Mechanicsville turnpike, where we were visited by our friends, besides permission being given some to go home on a pass of a few hours. But soon (I think we remained here about forty-eight hours, overhauling the battery, filling up the caissons and limber chests with ammunition, repairing harness, &c.), the bugle blew the assembly call, and we were notified to prepare rations and start for
where another desperate struggle was going on. This march was quickly made, and soon we arrived at the point assigned us, only to witness the withdrawal of the troops in our front, and in which we were destined to keep quiet, owing to the want of place to operate the guns. The scenes in the neighborhood of this famous battleground beggar description. Here it was that McClellan missed his forces for his final and supreme effort to repel the combined forces of Jackson and Lee, and here the two mighty giants locked arms in
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