fire. We soon came
to the road. Here there was a house or two, and the building, or
buildings, had some soldiers in it, or them. We crossed the road--the
Sixty-first under Miles did--and brought up in a yard or garden patch
that had a high tight board fence on two sides of it. Here we were
directed to lie down. The fence hid the enemy from our sight, but the
distance to their nearest line of rifle pits was short. Occasional
projectiles from cannon and muskets came our way, so that most of us
were willing to hug the ground.

George Joyce of Co. C was with the regiment, just returned from hospital
partially recovered from a wound received at Malvern Hill. Joyce was a
unique character, small of stature, illiterate, an adroit forager, and,
if you didn't know him, you might take him for a mere braggadocio. But
such was not the case. He was destitute of fear, or, if he ever
experienced the sensation, he overcame it. At Glendale the Colonel
ordered the line forward. A soldier said "We will follow the colors."
Joyce was a private, and how he happened to have them I do not know, but
he did, and he marched forward, brought the staff down with a bang and
said, "There's your colors, come up to them!" The line moved up, and
Barlow made him orderly sergeant of (I think) Co. F then and there.
Joyce was back with a stiff arm, so that he could not carry a gun, but
while most of us were hugging the ground, he stood up and worked his
jaw. He said, "Lie low boys. I'll let you know if anything happens." And
so he was on the watch. Presently a solid shot came his way. It passed
so near his foot, that, while it made no visible abrasion, his foot
began to swell so that he had to cut his boot off, and he had to hobble
back.

It was said at the time that Col. Miles, satisfied that the only thing
to do to amount to anything, was to make a rush and take this first
picket line, had sent back his conclusion, and requested permission to
charge the line with his regiment. About this time an accommodating
rebel bullet cut his throat, letting out a liberal quantity of fresh
bright blood. This so put him _hors de combat_ that he had to leave the
field, somewhat to the longevity account of the Sixty-firsters there
present. So we continued in this lowly attitude till after Hooker's men
made another vain assault over the ground we had occupied. Then, toward
sundown, we were withdrawn, and marched back into the city, and took up
our quarters for the night