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[239] our killed and wounded fell forward into the enemy's trenches —some backwards outside the parapet. Our line already decimated was now almost annhilated. The remnants of the regiment were formed and sheltered behind a fence (to shoot over) just outside of the parapet, and continued the unequal struggle, hoping for support that never came.

But not so with the little red-cap color bearer. He stood erect within twenty feet of the muzzles of the enemy's guns and waved his flag defiantly in their faces. They must have hesitated to kill him in admiration of his bravery. Though finally a heavy gun was trailed on him not twenty yards distant. His little ‘red cap’ flew up ten feet, one arm went up one way, the other another-fragments of his flesh were dashed in our faces. They had ‘killed him, too.’

The Forty-ninth was the extreme right of our line. The enemy's line overlapped, outflanked and encompassed us. It seemed we were shot at from everywhere. Finally the brave old Captain Stratton from Nelson, said: ‘Colonel, in five minutes you won't have a man left, let them surrender!’ Seeing the futility of continuing the unequal struggle of three officers and eighteen men against twenty thousand of the enemy, I said: ‘Captain, that is so, let them surrender, but I'll be hanged if I will.’ Eugene Flippin, of Lowesville, (whose leg had just been torn off), lying close by, heard this and raised a so-called white flag, red with blood and black with powder, and the enemy ceased firing. The little remnant of the Forty-ninth Virginia Regiment stood up at an order arms, after which the writer started to run the gauntlet of death and cut his way out, if possible. I got about fifty yards and cleared the men when, as General Anderson, who commanded the Pennsylvania reserves we were fighting afterwards told me, three thousand shots were fired at me, all at once.

One of the first struck me between my ear and head, but was turned out by a double gold cord around my hat, cutting off a small piece of my ear, and while falling I was shot through both shoulders, but fell in a deep water furrow, which saved me from being riddled. I had already been shot in the throat. Later they threw out a line of skirmishers these advanced to where I lay—a sandy-haired fellow leveled his gun at me and ordered me

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Stratton (1)
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