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 Colonel Patton called my attention to the gallant bearing of Major Dearing, as he galloped, flag in hand, from gun to gun of his battalion and suggested that it would be safer for us to close up on the artillery; but I told him he must not think of moving without orders and, besides, it was evident that the enemy's fire was rapidly abating, and that the storm would soon be over. The words were barely spoken before it came again; our turn now. I thought at first that it was my adjutant, John Stewart, as a handful of earth mixed with blood and brains struck my shoulder; but they were two poor fellows belonging to Company D (one of them, I remember, had a flaming red head), and another, as we believed, mortally hurt, Sergeant-Major Davy Johnston, of the Seventh, author of the book I have quoted. Strange to say, he was at the time lying between Colonel Patton, and myself.
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