oving off rapidly to the
north. Nearly 2000 men were disabled in a moment."* (* Memoirs page
572. The Antietam and Fredericksburg page 87.) And the impetus of the
counterstroke was not yet spent. Gordon's brigade of the Twelfth
Corps had been dispatched to Sedgwick's help, but McLaws had reformed
his troops, and after a short struggle the Confederates drove all
before them.

Confusion reigned supreme in the Federal ranks. In vain their
powerful artillery, firing case and canister with desperate energy,
strove to arrest the rush of the pursuing infantry. Out from the West
Wood and across the cornfield the grey lines of battle, preceded by
clouds of skirmishers, pressed forward without a check, and the light
batteries, plying whip and spur, galloped to the front in close
support. Hope rose high. The Southern yell, pealing from ten thousand
throats, rang with a wild note of anticipated triumph, and Jackson,
riding with McLaws, followed with kindling gaze the progress of his
counterstroke attack. "God," he said to his companion, as the shells
fell round them and the masses of the enemy melted away like the
morning mist, "has been very kind to us this day."

But the end was not yet. Sedgwick's brigades, flying to the
north-east, rallied under the fire of their batteries, and as the
Confederates advanced upon the East Wood, they found it already
occupied by a fresh brigade. Smith's division of the Sixth Corps had
been sent forward by McClellan to sustain the battle, and its arrival
saved his army from defeat. Once more the corn-field became the scene
of a furious struggle, the Southerners fighting for decisive victory,
the Federals for existence. So impetuous was McLaws' attack that the
regiments on his left, although checked by the fences, drove in a
battery and dashed back the enemy's first line; but the weight of the
artillery in front of the North Wood, supported by a portion of
Smith's division, prevented further advance, and a Federal brigade,
handled with rare judgment, rushed forward to meet the assailants in
the open. Sharp was the conflict, for McLaws, a fine soldier, as
daring as he was skilful, strove fiercely to complete the victory;
but the fight within the woods and the swift pursuit had broken the
order of his division. Brigade had mingled with brigade, regiment
with regiment. There were no supports; and the broken ranks, scourged
by the terrible cross-fire of many batteries, were unable to
withstand the so