" Erect and smiling, his cap set rakishly
over one ear, his brown-gold hair shining in the sun, he seemed,
said Longstreet long after, more like a "holiday soldier" than a
general about to lead a desperate and almost hopeless attack.
The Federal lines were a mile away. Towards them, towards the
bristling row of guns, the men marched steadily, keeping step as
if on parade, their banners fluttering gaily, and their bayonets
glittering in the sunshine. Confident and elated they swept on.
They were out to win not merely the battle but the war, and they
meant to do it.
Half the distance was covered. Then the Federal guns spoke. Crashing
and thundering they tore great gaps in the approaching column. Still
the men moved on steadily, resistlessly, until they came within
musket range. Then on a sudden the whole Federal line became as it
were a sheet of flame and smoke, and the first line of the advancing
Confederates seemed to crumble away before the fearful fusilade. But
the second line came on only faster and yet faster, firing volley
after volley, scattering frightful death as they came.
Nothing could stay their impetuous charge. On they came right up
to the rifle pits. In a rush they were across them, and over the
barricades. Then with a yell of victory they threw themselves upon
the guns, bayoneting the gunners. Leaping upon the barricade a man
held aloft the Confederate flag, waving it in triumphant joy.
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