ar enough to hear the
deep, rolling sound of the infantry, accompanied by the dreaded Rebel
yell. He knew his troops were retreating from the sound he hears.
A few more leaps, and he comes face to face with his panic stricken
troops. The road was crowded, the woods and fields on either side
one vast swarm of fleeing fugatives. A few of the faithful were still
holding the Confederates at bay, while the mass were seeking safety
in flight. His sword springs from its scabbard, and waving it over his
head, he calls in a loud voice, "Turn, boys, turn; we are going back."
The sound of his voice was electrical. Men halt, some fall, others
turn to go back, while a few continue their mad flight. A partial line
is formed, Sheridan knowing the effect of a show of forward movement,
pushes his handful of men back to meet the others still on the run.
They fall in. Others who have passed the line in their rush, return,
and in a few moments this wild, seething, surging, panic stricken
mass had turned, and in well formed lines, were now approaching the
cornfield and woods in which our pickets and skirmishers lay, all
unconscious of the mighty change--a change the presence of one man
effected in the morale of the routed troops. They rush upon our
sharpshooters, capturing nearly the whole line, killing Captain
Whitner, the commander, and either capturing or wounding nearly all
the commissioned officers. Before we knew it, or even expected it, the
enemy was in our front, advancing in line of battle. The men hadn't
time to raise a gun before the bullets came whizzing over our heads,
or battering against the stone wall. We noticed away to our right the
lines give way. Still Kershaw's Brigade held their position, and beat
back the enemy in our front. But in the woods on our left some troops
who were stationed there, on seeing the break in the line beyond us,
gave way also. Someone raised the cry and it was caught up and hurried
along like all omens of ill luck, that "the cavalry is surrounding
us." In a moment our whole line was in one wild confusion, like
"pandemonium broke loose." If it was a rout in the morning, it was
a stampede now. None halted to listen to orders or commands. Like
a monster wave struck by the head land, it rolls back, carrying
everything before it by its own force and power, or drawing all within
its wake. Our battle line is forced from the stone fence. We passed
over one small elevation, down through a vale, and when hal