Then, as the storm
decreased rapidly the trumpets sounded the charge, and horse, foot and
artillery, they pressed forward eagerly through the mud.
The sun broke through the clouds, and Dick saw before them a wood,
a ravine full of thickets, and the road commanded by strong artillery.
The Northern skirmishers were already stealing forward through the wet
bushes and grass, and soon their rifles were crackling. But the Southern
sharpshooters in the thickets were in stronger force, and their rapid and
accurate fire drove back the Northern men. Then their artillery opened
and swept the road, while the Northern batteries were making frantic
efforts to get up through the deep, sticky mud.
But the trumpets were still calling. The Winchester regiment and others,
eager for battle and victory, swept forward. Dick felt once more the
fierce thrill of combat, and, waving his revolver high above his head,
he shouted with the others as they rushed on. The stream of bullets from
the ravine thickened, and the cannon were crashing fast. But the Union
masses did not check their rush for an instant.
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