The thunder of cannon and roll of musketry along the lines was terrific. After a lapse of thirty minutes, I suppose, I heard the familiar yell of our men near by. The two lines of battle near me fired one volley and gave ground—retreating through the woods in disaster. Our men (a Georgia command I think), succeeded in reaching the edge of the woods but could not hold the position, a flanking column on their left forced them to give way.
The enemy soon formed their lines and advanced beyond their former position. Crossing the open field through which the Rifles charged a few hours before, the wounded were now in their rear for some time. Night was fast approaching and I could hear heavy firing on the left, and the rebel yell plainly indicated that the enemy along that part of the line was giving ground.
The firing gradually passed to the rear of the former line held by the Yankees. The line of battle formed near me soon retreated in the direction of the Chickahominy.
The fighting around the McGee house on our left seemed to be the most stubbornly contested part of the field late in the evening.
The roar of battle was heavy nearer the Chickahominy. The artillery fire was severe; batteries on the south side of the river were shelling the field until dark.
About sundown the ground was cleared of the enemy and I made an effort to get off the field by using a gun for a crutch. I managed to reach the ambulance corps of Hood's Texas troops and was carried to their field hospital, near Old Cold Harbor, where I remained until the evening of the 29th without any attention.
Hood's troops were badly cut up, and the surgeons were kept busy attending to their own wounded. They were kept busy amputating arms and legs of the wounded; other wounded could not be attended to properly. On the evening of the 29th I was moved to the hospital in Manchester and placed in the roundhouse of the Danville railroad. I remained there until the last week in August, when I was given a furlough for thirty days. I came home and remained there for two years before I was able to rejoin my command.
I have written this from memory. I kept no record at the time. May be in error along some lines.
The recollections of the days long past are often called up in memory—days that are never to be forgotten by those engaged in the conflict and those at home watching and waiting to hear from the front.
