olor-bearers planted his colors eight or
ten feet in front of his regiment, and was instantly shot dead. A soldier
sprang forward to his place and fell also as he grasped the color-staff. A
second and third followed successively, and each received death as
speedily as his predecessors. A fourth, however, seized and bore back the
object of soldierly devotion."

Such incidents have occurred in battle from time to time since men began
to venerate the symbols of their cause, but they are not commonly related
by the enemy. If General Johnston had known that his veteran divisions
were throwing their successive lines against fewer than fifteen hundred
men his glowing tribute to his enemy's valor could hardly have been more
generously expressed. I can attest the truth of his soldierly praise: I
saw the occurrence that he relates and regret that I am unable to recall
even the name of the regiment whose colors were so gallantly saved.

Early in my military experience I used to ask myself how it was that brave
troops could retreat while still their courage was high. As long as a man
is not disabled he can go forward; can it be anything but fear that makes
him stop and finally retire? Are there signs by which he can infallibly
know the struggle to be hopeless? In this engagement, as in others, my
doubts were answered as to the fact; the explanation is still obscure. In
many instances which have come under my observation, when hostile lines of
infantry engage at close range and the assailants afterward retire, there
was a "dead-line" beyond which no man advanced but to fall. Not a soul of
them ever reached the enemy's front to be bayoneted or captured. It was a
matter of the difference of three or four paces--too small a distance to
affect the accuracy of aim. In these affairs no aim is taken at individual
antagonists; the soldier delivers his fire at the thickest mass in his
front. The fire is, of course, as deadly at twenty paces as at fifteen; at
fifteen as at ten. Nevertheless, there is the "dead-line," with its
well-defined edge of corpses--those of the bravest. Where both lines are
fighting without cover--as in a charge met by a counter-charge--each has
its "dead-line," and between the two is a clear space--neutral ground,
devoid of dead, for the living cannot reach it to fall there.

I observed this phenomenon at Pickett's Mill. Standing at the right of the
line I had an unobstructed view of the narrow, open space across whic