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The Daily Dispatch: January 9, 1865., [Electronic resource], A Graphic story of the bombardment of Fort Fisher, from an inside witness. (search)
on that we would have a night fight was not realized. The night was spent in watchfulness and repairing the slight damage sustained by the fight. Our noble General Whiting had arrived, and all was confidence and cheerfulness. As the morning dawned, the fleet could be discerned in the distance getting ready to renew the attack; ever cease? Will it ever stop? No lull. Bang, bang, bang, quicker than you can count. The sand flies all about. There goes a shell whistling by, close to General Whiting; it buries itself, exploding, covering him all over with the wet sand. He does not even move, not even takes his pipe from his mouth, and only remarks coolly have been, yesterday, fighting all day, and still fighting; there is no lag in them; they fight as men never fought before with heavy guns. Colonel Lamb and General Whiting are everywhere along the lines encouraging them; from battery to battery they go; the men look at them and smile, and bang away again; the commanders of the c