It was a storm.
The snow soon lay upon the ground an inch deep, then three inches, then four and still it gained.

Through the darkness and the storm the Southern cannon crashed at intervals, sending shells at random into the Union camp or over it.

There was full need then for the indomitable spirit of Grant and those around him to encourage anew the thousands of boys who had so lately left the farms or the lumber yards.
Dick and his comrades, careless of the risk, searched over the battlefield for the wounded who were yet there.

They carried lanterns, but the darkness was so great and the snow drove so hard and lay so deep that they knew many would never be found.
Back beyond the range of the fort's cannon men were building fires with what wood they could secure from the forest.

All the tents they had were set up, and the men tried to cook food and make coffee, in order that some degree of warmth and cheer might be provided for the army beset so sorely.
The snow, after a while, slackening somewhat, was succeeded by cold much greater than ever.