ching them with
Americans from the North or the South.

It was said, and I suppose it was so, that in front of us was Magruder
and the story was current that he had served his men with gun-powder and
whiskey. Many stories are on the wind at such times that are no nearer
the truth than lies. I do not believe the rank and file very often had
their courage braced up with whiskey.

The battle of Malvern Hill was a splendid fight for our side, and I
firmly believe if we had been commanded by a brave and confident man
like Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Thomas or by some of the corps commanders
of the Potomac Army, Gen. Lee might have been pushed at least into the
defences of Richmond. But McClellan was on the James protecting the gun
boats, and composing a scolding letter to the president--probably.

From our position on the brow of the hill, it was open ground for a
distance and gently sloped off to the woods. Time after time the enemy
formed for the purpose of making a charge on us, but no sooner did they
appear than this immense line of artillery opened fire, which no troops
in the world could withstand. In aid of the artillery fire, the infantry
posted so as to have a chance, poured in volley after volley. Col.
Barlow practiced here that which I never saw before or after in
battle--volley firing by ranks. Then he changed it to firing by files
and then to firing at will which is as often as you please. This
tremendous storm of missiles held the confederates at bay. They did in a
feeble way reply to our fire, and we lost in killed and a large number
wounded. At times our firing was so rapid that the gun barrels became
heated to the point that they could not be grasped and the men held
their guns by the sling strap. I had some personal experiences in this
battle that were unique in my service. Our muskets were the Enfield
rifle, an English gun, much like the Springfield. They were, of course,
muzzle loaders, breech loaders then were the exception. The Minnie
bullet had no device for cleaning out the barrel, and after a dozen
shots it would become foul, and often it was difficult to ram the bullet
home. After I had fired my gun a number of times, in attempting to load,
the bullet lodged half way down. I made desperate efforts to send it
home but to no purpose. I found a stone large enough to pound on the end
of the ramrod, but the only effect seemed to be to set it the snugger.
It was the wrong place to hesitate in. I capped th