YORKTOWN AND WILLIAMSBURG.

197

“We slowly retired from stump to stump and from log to log, finallyregaining the edge of the wood, and took our position near Webber’s andBramhall’s batteries, which had just got into position on the right of the road,not over seven hundred yards from the hostile fort. While getting intoposition several of the battery men were killed, as they immediately drew theartillery fire of the enemy, which opened with a noise and violence thatastonished me. Our two batteries were admirably handled, throwing a num-ber of shot and shell into the enemy’s works, speedily silencing them, andby 9 o’clock the field in our front, including the rifle-pits, was completely‘ cleaned out ’ of artillery and infantry. Shortly afterward we advancedalong the edge of the wood to the left of Fort Magruder, and about 11 o’clockwe saw emerging from the little ravine to the left of the fort a swarm ofConfederates, who opened on us with a terrible and deadly fire. Then theycharged upon us with their peculiar yell. We took all the advantage possibleof the stumps and trees as we were pushed back, until we reached the edge ofthe wood again, where we halted and fired upon the enemy from behind all thecover the situation afforded. We were none of us too proud, not even thosewho had the dignity of shoulder-straps to support, to dodge behind a tree orstump. I called out to a comrade, ‘Why don’t you get behind a tree?’‘ Confound it,’ said he, ‘ there ain’t enough for the officers.’ I don’t mean toaccuse officers of cowardice, but we had suddenly found out that they showedthe same general inclination not to get shot as privates did, and wereanxious to avail themselves of the privilege of their rank by getting in ourrear. I have always thought that pride was a good substitute for courage, ifwell backed by a conscientious sense of duty ; and most of our men, officersas well as privates, were too proud to show the fear which I have no doubtthey felt in common with myself. Occasionally a soldier would showsymptoms which pride could not overcome. One of our men, Spinney, raninto the woods and was not seen until after the engagement. Some timeafterward, when he had proved a good soldier, I asked him why he ran, andhe replied that every bullet which went by his head said ‘ Spinney,’ and hethought they were calling for him. In all the pictures of battles I had seenbefore I ever saw a battle, the officers were at the front on prancing steeds,or with uplifted swords were leading their followers to the charge. Ofcourse, I was surprised to find that in a real battle the officer gets in the rearof his men, as is his right and duty,—that is, if his ideas of duty do notcarry him so far to the rear as to make his sword useless.

“ The ‘ rebs ’ forced us back by their charge, and our central lines werealmost broken. The forces withdrawn from our right had taken the infantrysupport from our batteries, one of which, consisting of four guns, was cap-tured. We were tired, wet, and exhausted when supports came up, and wewere allowed to fall back from under the enemy’s fire, but still in easy reachof the battle. I asked one of my comrades how he felt, and his reply wascharacteristic of the prevailing sentiment: ‘ I should feel like a hero if Iwasn’t so blank wet.’ The bullets had cut queer antics among our men. Aprivate, who had a canteen of whisky when he went into the engagement, on