July 3, 1863
Our artillery has now ceased to roar and the enemy have checked their fury, too. The time appointed for our charge has come.
I tell you, there is no romance in making one of these charges. You might think so from reading “Charlie O’Mallery,” that prodigy of valour, or in reading of any other gallant knight who would as little think of riding over gunners and sich like as they would of eating a dozen oysters. But when you rise to your feet as we did today, I tell you the enthusiasm of ardent breasts in many cases ain’t there, and instead of burning to avenge the insults of our country, families and altars and firesides, the thought is most frequently, Oh, if I could just come out of this charge safely how thankful would I be! Continue reading