Scarcely a man of the Union force was injured by this charge, but the dead and wounded from the rebel ranks literally covered the ground. There was no help for them. Our men were unable even to take care of their own wounded which lay scattered through the woods in the rear. So the rebel wounded lay between the two armies, making the night hideous with their groans.
The battle of the 6th was now at an end, neither party having gained any decided advantage.
At midnight the Sixth corps fell back upon the plank road to the vicinity of the old gold mine mill, where our hospitals had been. Intrenchments were thrown up and the position was held without much annoyance from the rebels all the next day. The whole line of the army remained quiet on the 7th, only a few skirmishes along different parts of the line, relieving the monotony of the day.
The two days of fighting had told fearfully upon our ranks. Our regiments which a few hours before were well filled, were now but fragments of regiments; and our hearts were weighed down with heavy grief when we thought of the many grand spirits who had left us forever since we crossed the Rapidan.
We thought of the young colonel of the Forty-third, Wilson, beloved and admired throughout the corps. His death was a heavy blow to us all. We should miss his soldierly presence on the parade; his winning pleasantry in our social circles; we were no longer to enjoy his beautiful example of unswerving christian morality. His manly form was no longer to be our pride, and his heroic valor would never again be manifest on the field of battle.
Major Fryer had received his mortal hurt. Fryer was young and gallant; his handsome form and brilliant eye were in fine harmony with those of his friend and superior. "In their lives they were beautiful, and in their death they were not divided."
Captain Hickmot, too, of the Forty-ninth was among the slain. Surely death loves a shining mark, and with what terrible precision had he chosen his victims. Hickmot's bright eye was glazed in death. His gayety was hushed forever. We remembered now his hearty laugh, his friendly words and his purity of character, and knew that they were ours only in memory.
Wallace of the Forty-third and Terry of the Forty-ninth, too, were gone. Colonel Ryerson, the gallant commander of the Tenth New Jersey, was mortally wounded.