for many years
right in the same ruts, had cut through the turf, so that the surface of
the road was somewhat lower than the adjacent ground. To men firing on
their knees this afforded a slight natural breast-work, which was
substantial protection. In front of this position, in addition to the
large timber, was a dense growth of small under-brush, post-oak and the
like, which had not yet shed their leaves, and the ground also was
covered with layers of dead leaves. There was desperate fighting at this
point, and during its progress exploding shells set the woods on fire.
The clothing of the dead Confederates lying in these woods caught fire,
and their bodies were burned to a crisp. I have read, somewhere, that
some wounded men were burned to death, but I doubt that. I walked all
over the ground looking at these poor fellows, and scrutinized them
carefully to see the nature of their hurts and they had evidently been
shot dead, or expired in a few seconds after being struck. But, in any
event, the sight was horrible. I will not go into details, but leave it
to your imagination.

I noticed, at other places on the field, the bodies of two Confederate
soldiers, whose appearance I shall never forget. They presented a
remarkable contrast of death in battle. One was a full grown man,
seemingly about thirty years of age, with sandy, reddish hair, and a
scrubby beard and mustache of the same color. He had been firing from
behind a tree, had exposed his head, and had been struck square in the
forehead by a musket ball, killed instantly, and had dropped at the foot
of the tree in a heap. He was in the act of biting a cartridge when
struck, his teeth were still fastened on the paper extremity, while his
right hand clutched the bullet end. His teeth were long and snaggy, and
discolored by tobacco juice. As just stated, he had been struck dead
seemingly instantaneously. His eyes were wide open and gleaming with
Satanic fury. His transition from life to death had been immediate, with
the result that there was indelibly stamped on his face all the furious
rage and lust of battle. He was an ill-looking fellow, and all in all
was not an agreeable object to contemplate. The other was a far
different case. He was lying on a sloping ridge, where the Confederates
had charged a battery, and had suffered fearfully. He was a mere boy,
not over eighteen, with regular features, light brown hair, blue eyes,
and, generally speaking, was strikingly h