Soon they came nearer and finally began to go over our heads with a “zz-p-” or a “c-s-ss-s-” which indicated that the Confederates were crowding back the Union lines. “This ain’t a fair show,” observed one of the boys. “Let us lay here and get plugged full of lead and never see a reb or get a chance to shoot one.”
The surgeon ordered us to leave our knapsacks, drums, etc., in the yard of a house near by, and I will mention now that up to this time we have never seen that house again.
About the time we had got ourselves in fighting trim Gracey’s bugle sounded “forward,” and our regiment went across the field on a run and into the pine woods, the artillery behind us throwing shell over our heads. The woods were full of flying missiles and the first the Second New York knew they got a volley of musketry from the flank and rear. Investigation revealed the fact that the troops who had fired the volley were the Seventh New York. The woods were so dense and full of smoke that it was hard to discern a body of troops a short distance away. The enemy could only be located by the flash of their guns.
Our colonel was ordered by Gen. Tyler to hold a slight elevation near a ravine. Our lines were spread out and the men ordered to lie down.
“Steady, men, and don’t shoot too high,” sang out Col. Whistler. “Better order them rear rank fellows to aim higher or they’ll blow our brains out,” says one of the front rank men.
“Shut up; no talking in the ranks!” commanded Adjutant Corwin. All of this time men were getting hit by the rebel bullets. “Bill Wright’s killed,” someone said, and the news was passed along the line.
“If I was in command of this regiment I’d order a charge on the Johnnies and I’d drive them or git licked in the attempt,” said big Dave Russell.
One of the saddest sights of the day was to see the major of the First Massachusetts as he rode back through our lines with a bullet wound in his forehead and the blood streaming all over him, and he hardly able to hang on to his horse. He died a few moments later.
This regiment had about 350 casualties in the fight. Over one-third of that number were killed outright.
The contortions of one of our drum corps boys who was badly demoralized by the flying bullets, was so ludicrous that I should have laughed if I had been killed for it the next minute. Every time one of those “z-z-ping” minies came near him he would leap in the air and then fall flat on the ground.