was desperately maintained by the Western men, who fought like panthers; but it was of no avail; our admirable plan of battle was still maintained by the quickness and coolness of our several chiefs, among whom I would especially mention General (Bishop) Polk and old Bragg.
The latter, of course, was ever with his beloved artillery, and seemed as cool as a cucumber, among thirty pieces blazing away like furies.
Polk, however, had achieved a great success in capturing that arch-braggadocio Prentiss and his whole brigade — the same bombastic hero who, when in command at Cairo, was going to play thunder with us, as the boys termed it. But while all were in high spirits at our evident success, and at the prospect of soon driving the enemy into the Tennessee, couriers looking pale and sad passed by, reporting that Johnston had been killed while personally leading an attack on a powerful battery.
Major-General Albert Sidney Johnston was a Kentuckian, and about sixty years of age; tall,