For a few minutes it was simply awful.

On both sides men acted like infuriated devils.

They dashed each other's brains out with clubbed muskets; bayonets were driven into men's bodies up to the muzzle of the gun; officers ran their swords through their opponents, and revolvers, after being emptied into the faces of the Rebels, were thrown with desperate force into the ranks.

In our regiment was a stout German butcher named Frank Fleck.

He became so excited that he threw down his sword, and rushed among the Rebels with his bare fists, knocking down a swath of them.