"I am a victor over self" -- The Experience of Combat at Antietam

Andy Cardinal

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My objective in this thread is to follow the experiences of the men of George H. Gordons brigade as they went into action in the Cornfield. I hope it also sheds some light on what combat the experience of combat in the Civil War was like, which is something I've always found interesting. This narrative will follow the experiences of a handful of men from Gordon's brigade, mainly from the 27th Indiana, but also the 3rd Wisconsin and 2nd Massachusetts. As it is quite long, the post will be broken into several parts which I will post over the next several days.

My "next project" will be to try to find some good Confederate accounts of the same action -- but so far I am not having much success there.

PART 1


The men of George H. Gordon's 12th Corps brigade prepared themselves for the fight they all knew was coming, each man in his own way. “Ready for the fray! is the word,” W. F. Goodhue of the 3rd Wisconsin wrote later. “All non-combatants and everything of hindrance is at once discarded. It is a moment of intense anxiety among our boys who await the command to battle; to look into their faces tells a story of their own.”

Some men tried to eat. “While we wait, many of the men pour water out of their canteens into their little tin pails, and make themselves a cup of coffee, over the small fires we have been permitted to kindle since daybreak,” Corporal Edmund Randolph Brown of the 27th Indiana remembered. “With this black coffee and the crackers and raw pork in their haversacks, they eat a soldier’s luncheon…. Few, if any, can forget that this may be the last food they will taste in this world…. In fact, for that reason, some of the more excitable ones can’t eat a mouthful.”

Men prepared for the coming fight in other ways as well. “Valuables and keepsakes are handed to members of the ambulance corps and others, whose duties do not require them to be greatly exposed,” Brown noted. “Directions are given and requests are made, concerning business matters at home, the care of those dear and dependent, messages to friends, and, in some instances, the final disposition one’s own mortal remains. Some threw away decks of cards or other ‘evil’ items.”

Others wrote to loved ones at home. One of those who did so was Lieutenant Colonel Wilder Dwight of the 2nd Massachusetts, who wrote a few lines while he waited:

Dear Mother,

It is a misty moisty morning. We are engaging the enemy and are drawn up in support of Hooker who is now banging away most briskly. I write in the saddle to send you my love and to say that I am very well so far --


The sounds of battle continued unabated as Dwight wrote. Brown recalled that the "roar of cannon is incessant and the discharge of musketry is far more than a continuous rattle. The progress of a devastating cyclone, with its lashing and snapping of trees, its creaking and grating of buildings rent asunder and toppling over, its screaming and shrieking of men and animals, in mortal terror and agony, and a thousand other ear-splitting, blood-curdling sounds, all added to the rush and roar of the wind, the darkening of the clouds, the binding of the dust and the rumble and peal of the thunder, is the only other human experience that the writer would venture to compare with a battle, such as we were waiting to enter that morning.”
"There are unmistakable signs of disaster at the front,"

John R. Rankin of the 27th Indiana wrote. “The staff officers who ride near us have anxiety and alarm depicted in their faces." After a while, Rankin saw a staff officer riding toward them as fast as he could. The orders they have been waiting for have finally been given. General Gordon passed the orders on to his colonels. The men reformed their ranks and Colonel Silas Cosgrove called out, “Column! Forward, guide right, march!”
 
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Julian Hinkley, 3rd Wisconsin
They moved up the slope toward the Joseph Poffenberger farm. “When we arrive at the top of the slope we find ourselves on the edge of a rather smooth and level tract of table land, extending on before us more than half a mile” Brown recounted. Passing the farm, they entered the North Woods. “Advancing on, we come to a narrow strip of open timber, extending back from Mr. Poffenberger’s barn. Just before entering this timber we encountered two stake-and-rider fences, bordering a narrow lane. To push these down sufficient for us to scramble over them is only the work of a moment. But it breaks our formation somewhat and, once among the big trees, we halt and readjust our ranks. In the pause we can hear a peculiar singing, humming noise in the tree tops. Looking up, the air seems to be in motion, only there is no movement among the limbs. Twigs and shredded leaves are sifting down as if an army of locusts was at work in this grove. It is canister and shrapnel hurled at the troops in front and at us in tons, by the rebel batteries. Massed as we are, we afford them a tempting mark, though their aim is too high.”

The men unslung their knapsacks in the woods and emerged into David Miller’s ploughed field. "We emerge from the woods into the meadow, and a scene of horror and grandeur is before us," Rankin wrote. "The smoke of the battle and the mist of the morning still rested on the field, giving a spectral appearance to objects but a short distance away. Disaster and destruction were everywhere in sight." Gordon's three regiments deployed into line of battle, with the 2nd Massachusetts on the right, the 3rd Wisconsin in the middle, and the 27th Indiana on the left. “The maneuver was executed as though we had been on a parade ground instead of a battle-field,” Julian Hinkley of the 3rd Wisconsin recalled. “I have seldom seen it better done.”

Gordon expected to come up behind Crawford’s deployed brigade, but instead found that there was nothing in front of his three deployed regiments except some pockets of men -- all that appeared to be left from Hookers corps. As Rankin described it: “Riderless horses dash over the field, dead and dying men cover the ground, and dismounted artillery is piled up in heaps. The remains of a Pennsylvania Reserve regiment is standing out in the meadow with about thirty men on each side of the colors. To the right, about one hundred yards, is another little group. How much farther these groups extend I cannot tell. They are the remains of a continuous line which entered the fight a little while before and drove the rebels.” There seemed to be no organized units ahead to resist the Confederates who were then advancing into the cornfield. “While moving forward … an aide of General Hooker’s galloping rapidly toward my command, begged me to hurry forward,” Gordon wrote in his official report. “It was apparent from the steady approach of the rounds of musketry that the enemy were approaching. Their shouts of exultation could be distinctly heard as the line of my deployed battalions … advanced boldly to the front."

Edmund Brown admired the unflinching courage of Colonel Silas Colgrove, who rode well to the front of the regiment as they moved forward, occasionally turning to give commands. “About the time the regiment deployed into line one of the men was killed, others were wounded as we advanced, yet he rode quietly on. There was not a twitching of a muscle, not a quaver of the voice, not a movement or condition of any kind, which indicated that he felt himself in the least personal danger, or was in any way influenced by his peculiar surroundings.” The Hoosiers advanced steadily, following their colonel’s example. “The alignment could not have been better, the step more regular or the movement more precise and quiet, if he had been passing the grand stand on review. Every man walks erect, looks straight to the front, touches elbows gently to the right, and there is perfect stillness in the ranks.”
 
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William F. Goodhue, 3rd Wisconsin
PART 3

The pockets of Pennsylvanians to the front were still fighting. “They are not expecting reinforcements until they look back and see our column coming to their aid,” Rankin wrote. “What a reception they give us! They swing their caps in the air, yell, and act as though they want to embrace every one of us. But this is not all they do. They get out of our way, and when our regiment deploys columns they form on our left and go forward and stay with us….” They advanced up the slope and halted about 120 yards from the fence at the northern edge of the cornfield. There stood the remnants of Thompson’s battery, which by this time stood abandoned. "A single artilleryman is trying to extricate an uninjured horse," Rankin wrote, "his cap is pulled down over his eyes, and he moves slowly around, as though he had a whole day in which to do his work. He appears utterly oblivious to all the surroundings. He is evidently in bad mental health." Lt. Josiah Clinton Williams remembered the same incident: “The brave fellow was trying to fasten the trace chain link over the shuffle tree hook, hammering as coolly as if in a harvest field of peace and plenty, instead of war, death and destruction. I would like to know if he survived and who he was.”

The 3rd Wisconsin was to the right of the Indianians. In the left-most company of the Wisconsin line, Rankin saw “the old gambler who, after each pay day, would come over to the 27th and relieve our boys of their extra change by his scientific draw poker.” Rankin thought to himself, “Old man, you are likely in a little while to be in the presence of you Maker. How bad you must feel with those ill gotten gains in your pockets?” Fortunately, Rankin’s own pockets are empty. “Thank God my pockets are undefiled,” he wrote. “My luck since last pay day has been awful.”

The 27th Indiana’s left flank reached to within fifty feet of the East Woods. To the right the Wisconsin men reached Ransom’s battery, which had been cut apart in its fight with the 1st Texas. “All of its horses were killed or crippled,” Hinkley recalled, “and the gunners were just falling back before the advancing Confederate line of battle. To the left of the battery, and stretching off to the woods directly in our front, stood the remnants of the brigade stubbornly contesting the advance of the enemy’s infantry. Our regiment moved forward to the battery, the artillerymen at the same time returning to their guns.” On the far right of the brigade, the 2nd Massachusetts moved past Ransom’s guns and then passed though David Miller’s orchard, taking a position about 75 yards in advance of the other two regiments. “How can you distinguish personal bravery among these young men?” William F. Goodhue of the 3rd Wisconsin asked, looking back on the events of that day. “Their presence upon that exact spot is alone an indication of courage. No man would stand for a moment as they stood only to be wholly dutiful and brave. Army correspondents said in their dispatches that ‘the troops were eager for a fight.’ Do you see any eagerness for battle among these men? Do you see any hilarity or bombast among them? If every human countenances depicted determination, although silent, it is here shown in the faces of these soldiers, standing on the threshold of one of the most sanguinary battles in the annals of the war.”
 
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John Rankin, 27th Indiana
PART 4

John Rankin’s account is interesting because, unlike many veteran reminiscences, he attempted to describe his thoughts and feelings as he went into battle. “What I saw at Antietam is of small moment,” he wrote; “it was similar to what the thousands of others participants saw. What anyone thinks while engaged in a desperate battle is of more interest, as we are all, to some extent, metaphysicians. A battalion in motion is an immense machine, as the men composing it move in harmony. But aside from the physical movement, when going into battle there is a different set of thoughts and emotions for each man. These thoughts are private property, and are generally kept locked in each individual breast. All of us at times have thoughts we would not care to have made public, and many good soldiers would feel humiliated to have thoughts made bare which passed through their minds in certain ordeals.”

Rankin noted that as he kept step “mechanically” with the file-leader, he had “no duty to occupy his mind, and he looked “over the field at anything to which my attention may be attracted.” And so began the battle that took place within his mind -- or within his soul, as he would have thought of it -- “which every soldier has to fight within his own breast some time during his career, and the struggle between conscience and cowardice.” As he continued advancing toward the cornfield, Rankin admitted, “I begin to calculate on my chances of escape…. How much would I give to be away from here? I would give the results of a life’s toil, and I would be strongly tempted to sign away my title to that house not made with hands. What keeps me here in my place? Not honor, but reputation. If I could sneak away I would be willing to try to settle the matter with conscience…. Of course the rebels must be driven back across the Potomac, but the absence of one musket will not make any difference in the general result.”

The Hoosiers reached the high ground, the cornfield to their front. As Colonel Cosgrove reported, "This field was a low piece of ground, the corn very heavy, and serving, to some extent, to screen the enemy from view, yet the colors and battle flags of several regiments appearing above the corn clearly indicate the advance of the enemy in force.” The advancing Confederates opened a devastating fire on Gordon’s men, but the Indianians could not return fire. Part of the 128th Pennsylvania was still in the cornfield, between the 27th Indiana and the Confederates. If the Hoosiers opened fire, they would hit their own men.

In the 3rd Wisconsin, Julian Hinkley watched as “The Confederate infantry moved steadily across the corn-field, while the decimated brigade in its path fell back, step by step. We were obliged to wait before commencing fire, until they could be moved out of the way. Then we opened from one end of the line to the other. W. F. Goodhue remembered one of the men calling out, “Boys, here they come!” “At this instant,” Goodhue related, “there are bursting volleys of musketry on the left, followed by long rattling rolls of musketry from the extended lines of troops. Further yet to the left there is seen a ribbon-like continuation of sounds similar to the flutter of a flag in the breeze. The fire of the enemy mingles with our own, and the roar of musketry is incessant.”

Ransom’s artillerymen were back at their guns, and they “opened furiously” at the Ripley’s Confederates. “Heavy and successive discharges of artillery are almost deafening,” Goodhue wrote. “Amid this din we could faintly hear the command: “Attention!” which we quickly obeyed. The fog was now vanishing, but the smoke coming from the artillery hung heavily over the fields, and as the sunlight pierced it, the grayish tints disappeared, and there was left a blue sulphurous tinge, the incarnate color of battle.”

"It was difficult to see them lying in the corn,” Edmund Brown recalled. “We finally opened irregular fire when we saw gray forms, taking deliberate care not to hurt any blue uniforms. Rebels were more than 400 yards away. Soon after we halted they started for us. In the air all flags hung down showing the same colors as stars and stripes."
 
PART 5

John Rankin was in the right file of the right company -- in other words, he was on the extreme right of his regiment:

Spat! Spat! Spat! I hear their bullets striking our line. Crack! Crack! Crack! from our side in reply, and then come crashing volleys simultaneously from each line. It would not be so glorious, but it would be more delightful to be out of this business. It is sweet for one’s country to die, and it is also sweet to live at the age of eighteen. A new idea strikes me, and it strikes me hard! For want of a better name I will call it the coruscation of a common mind made brilliant by its environment. It is this: How much more heavenly to bind up wounds than to make them. I will play the angel of mercy instead of the demon of vengeance. I will bear a bleeding comrade back to the ravine—a deep one, where rebel bullets can reach us not—and there I will soothe him until this performance is over.

Rankin did not have long to wait: within moments, Captain John W. Wilcoxsin was wounded in the left side. “Our captain is wounded and needs help,” Rankin wrote. “A comrade with a heart as tender as my own takes one arm while I take the other.” He soon found that Captain Wilcoxsin was less seriously hurt than he had first thought. “My disgust on finding the captain is hurt less severe than I had supposed is intense,” he recalled. “But I smother my disappointment and commence firing, hoping for better luck next time.”

The advancing Confederate infantry belonged to Ripley’s brigade, which had already been fighting, first by Bachman’s attack on one side and then the 128th Pennsylvania on the other flank. The Hoosiers began to take heavy fire from Ripley’s North Carolinians. Those on the right end of the regimental line suffered more than those on the left, who were closer to the woods. “Our men began to fall on every side," Lieutenant Josiah Clinton Williams, who was on the right wing of the regiment, wrote home that night. “All companies lost severely. We kept closing ranks to the right as fast as they thinned & when they were within some 100 yards of us put in a heavy front & flank fire, which made them skedaddle.”

As the fighting went on, Rankin gradually lost his desire to leave the field. “I now have plenty of opportunities but do not improve them. My former acumen in taking care of the interests of number one has given way to a dense stupidity…. Thank God! My higher nature has triumphed…. This army may be swept from the field before sunset; within a moment I may be a mangled corpse; I may sleep in an unknown grave; but, come what may, I am a victor over self.”
 
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Edwin E. Bryant, 3rd Wisconsin.
PART 6

Ripley’s brigade had “skedaddled,” but a new Confederate force had advanced into the corn to take their place. This was Colonel Alfred H. Colquitt’s brigade, led onto the field by the 13th Alabama. They were followed by the 23rd Georgia, 28th Georgia, 27th Georgia, and 6th Georgia bringing up the rear. Crossing the Smoketown road near the southwestern corner of the East Woods, the 13th Alabama passed the right flank of Ripley’s 3rd North Carolina, and then Colonel Birkett D. Fry ordered the 13th Alabama to oblique to the left across Ripley’s front. Fry continued this oblique movement until it had moved far enough to bring Colquitt’s entire brigade into line. The first four regiments then fronted to their right, forming a line of battle and opened fire on Gordon’s men, who were on the other side of the corn. Although many of Colquitt’s men found protection from the rock ledges, they too began to take heavy losses. Colonel S. D. Lee pushed forward two guns from Captain George V. Moody’s Madison (Louisiana) Light Artillery into the field, where it took position behind the 13th Alabama and opened fire on Gordon’s line in support of Colquitt’s brigade.

The 6th Georgia, at the rear of Colquitt’s brigade, was the last to come into line. They formed initially in the East Woods and exchanged shots with the 10th Maine before obliquing to the left and moving forward. When the 6th Georgia was even with the rest of Colquitt’s line, the entire brigade began advancing through the Cornfield.

“Amid the deafening roar about us, I heard a voice behind me shouring: ‘Ready! Aim! Fire!’ and the crash of our guns was like a blow on an anvil, nearly four hundred guns were discharged upon the instant, cutting down men in great numbers in the advancing line,” Goodhue wrote. As Lieutenant E. E. Bryant recalled of this exchange of fire:

About seventy-five yards in front was a rail fence, and beyond that the memorable cornfield, that day harvested with bullets and canister, and drenched with blood. On the Confederates came, their line overlapping Gordon's brigade on the left. The batteries poured in canister, the infantry rained bullets upon them, and their line melted rapidly, but was determined not to flinch. A part of this line reached the fence and began firing. From the higher ground where the Third stood could be seen a steady stream of their wounded, limping, crawling, or being helped to the rear. But the Third was suffering severely too…."

Colquitt’s Confederates continued to advance through the corn. “On and on they press, until they reach the fence, only seventy steps in front of the Twenty-seventh,” Edmund Brown wrote. “Those who observe them -- how eager and persistent they are, stooping forward like a hunter stalking his prey, at last making one vigorous dash up to the fence and throwing themselves down behind it -- will not soon forget the sight.” At this point, Colonel Colgrove reported, the firing was so heavy and so many men were hit that “it seemed that our little force would be entirely annihilated.” Confederate losses were just as heavy, and the 3rd Wisconsin suffered terribly too.

“Who ever tried to stand before a more withering, consuming blast than we do now?” Brown wondered. "Every one that the eye rests upon, even for a moment, seems to fall. A soldier makes a peculiar noise in loading his gun, which attracts attention, but when we turn to look at him he falls. Another makes what he considers a good shot, and laughs over it. When others turn to inquire the cause, he falls. A third turns to tell the man in the rear rank not to fire so close to his face. Others glance in that direction, only to see both fall. All of these instances, and others, are observed by the writer at almost the same moment.”Another of the wounded was 17 year-old Theodore Nance, who was hit in the neck. "I picked a piece of collar button out of his neck & told him if it had come a ½" closer he would have been a dead man,” Sergeant William W. Holloway wrote. “It cut the skin & bruised his throat, mashed the collar button. He was standing sideways loading his musket when the ball struck him."
 
PART 7

Colquitt’s Confederates continued to advance through the corn. “On and on they press, until they reach the fence, only seventy steps in front of the Twenty-seventh,” Edmund Brown wrote. “Those who observe them -- how eager and persistent they are, stooping forward like a hunter stalking his prey, at last making one vigorous dash up to the fence and throwing themselves down behind it -- will not soon forget the sight.” At this point, Colonel Colgrove reported, the firing was so heavy and so many men were hit that “it seemed that our little force would be entirely annihilated.” Confederate losses were just as heavy, and the 3rd Wisconsin suffered terribly too.

“Who ever tried to stand before a more withering, consuming blast than we do now?” Brown wondered. "Every one that the eye rests upon, even for a moment, seems to fall. A soldier makes a peculiar noise in loading his gun, which attracts attention, but when we turn to look at him he falls. Another makes what he considers a good shot, and laughs over it. When others turn to inquire the cause, he falls. A third turns to tell the man in the rear rank not to fire so close to his face. Others glance in that direction, only to see both fall. All of these instances, and others, are observed by the writer at almost the same moment.”Another of the wounded was 17 year-old Theodore Nance, who was hit in the neck. "I picked a piece of collar button out of his neck & told him if it had come a ½" closer he would have been a dead man,” Sergeant William W. Holloway wrote. “It cut the skin & bruised his throat, mashed the collar button. He was standing sideways loading his musket when the ball struck him."

John Rankin still battled on the right of the regiment. He watched as the Confederate colors to the front "falls and rises at almost regular intervals" and the Hoosier colors fall and rise "in the same manner." Rankin noted that "at times everything is enveloped in smoke, and we can only mark the rebel line by the red flashes from their guns. Then the wind sweeps the smoke away and both lines are exposed to full view."

"Not as much as a frail spear of grass shields anyone, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet," Brown recalled. "All stand perfectly erect. From first to last not a man lies down, kneels or stoops, unless he is hurt. Moreover, we touch elbows constantly. As fast as men fall out we close up the gaps, presenting at all times an unbroken front."
 
PART 8

The right wing of the 27th Indiana and the left wing of the 3rd Wisconsin were particularly hard hit. "It seems a miracle that anyone should still remain unhurt," Brown wrote. "Very few, indeed, are entirely so. There is scarcely a man on whom blood has not been drawn in some way."

Rankin estimated that by this time there were only fifteen Badgers to the left of the Wisconsin colors, and only twelve or fifteen men on the right wing of the 27th Indiana. "They are the faithful ones," Rankin wrote. "But they do not comprise all the faithful. Others just as faithful are lying on the ground, or have hobbled away. Everyone standing here has bullet marks on his clothes. From the start they have stood there awaiting what appeared to be their inevitable doom. My regret is that I am not more worthy to be numbered with them. To all appearances not one of them has faltered, while locked in my own breast is the annoying secret that at the opening of the battle I did not fully withstand the terrible temptation, and was almost ready to acknowledge the independence of the Southern Confederacy."
 
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Lt. Col. Eugene Powell, 66th Ohio
PART 9

It appeared that Gordon's and Colquitt's men would stand blazing away only yards apart from each other until both sides were mutually exterminated, but then Federal reinforcements suddenly appeared on Colquitt's right flank from the East Woods. This was Tyndale's brigade from Greene's division.

Lieutenant Colonel Eugene Powell, commanding the 66th Ohio, wrote that “the mist was so dense that we could not see but a short distance. We came upon the rebels, drawn up in line, in a cornfield awaiting. We advanced to within 100 yards of them, returned their fire. We advanced firmly. They in a few minutes broke and ran, except a few that were left.”

At nearly the same time, the 2nd Massachusetts -- relatively sheltered in David Miller's orchard -- opened fire on Colquitt's left flank. "Moving some of his companies from right to left, and changing front slightly, so that the regimental line was nearly at right angles to the line of the brigade," Alonzo Quint of the 2nd Massachusetts recorded, "Colonel Andrews ordered fire on the enemy opposite the Third Wisconsin. Under this cross fire, the enemy, terribly shattered, broke.”

"We were posted in a little orchard, and Colonel Andrews got a cross fire on that part of the enemy's line, which, as we soon discovered, did a great deal of execution, and saved the Third Wisconsin from being completely used up," Captain Robert Gould Shaw wrote. "It was the prettiest thing we have ever done, and our loss was small at that time…."
 
PART 10

Gordon's men, still in position north of the cornfield, had to cease firing as Greene's division swept through the East Woods and into the cornfield. The 2nd Massachusetts followed Colquitt's men as the fell back. "Cheering wildly, our whole line chased the rebels through the cornfield where so many in blue and gray were now lying dead," Henry Comey recalled.

Men were struck by the carnage around them. "Beyond the cornfield was a large open field," Shaw wrote, "and such a mass of dead and wounded men, mostly Rebels, as were lying there, I never saw before; it was a terrible sight, and our men had to be very careful to avoid treading on them; many were mangled and torn to pieces by artillery, but most of them were wounded by musketry fire. We halted right among them, and the men did everything they could for their comfort, giving them water from their canteens, and trying to place them in easy positions."

"There are so many young boys and old men among the Rebels," Shaw added, "that it seems hardly possible that they can have come of their own accord to fight us, and it makes you pity them all the more as they lie moaning on the field."

Meanwhile, the Wisconsin and Indiana men waited to replenish their ammunition. While they waited, John Rankin wrote, "a major general on a white horse rides up." It was Joseph Hooker, bleeding and in great pain from a wound in his foot. “What are these men doing here?” he angrily demanded. One of the men said, “We are waiting for ammunition, General.” “Where in the hell’s your bayonets?" the general roared in response. "Forward!”

And so the Indiana and Wisconsin men moved forward again. "Oh God, oh God, such sights and sounds," Captain Charles Russell Train, General Gordon's adjutant, wrote. Train, who was to the rear of the 27th Indiana, called it a most rash and magnificent charge."

"When we charged into the corn my Captain T., H. Nance & myself were the only officers left on the entire right," Lieutenant Josiah Clinton Williams of the 27th Indiana recalled. "John Rankin was the entirety of Co. A." Like Shaw, Williams was "surprised to see our men and the foe lying thickly intermingled o'er the ground" -- many of them victims from the earlier fighting. "It was hot both naturally and artificially. All were crying for water. We gave to each alike while our canteens lasted."
 
@Andy Cardinal What a wonderful job you have done here, putting this all together they way you have! This was, in my opinion, fascinating stuff. I am looking forward to reading what the "Johnnies" have to say.

These narratives really put the reader in the middle of the action and give a feel for what battle in the black powder era must have been like. I found it humbling to read these.

Thank you very much, John
 
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