A general and three whole regiments, struck on every side, were captured.
It seemed that nothing could deprive the Southern army of victory, absolute and complete.

General Johnston had marshalled his troops with superb skill, and intending to reap the full advantage of the surprise, he continually pushed them forward upon the shattered Northern lines.
He led in person and on horseback the attack upon the Federal center.
Around and behind him rode his staff, and the wild rebel yell swept again through the forest, when the soldiers saw the stern and lofty features of the chief whom they trusted, leading them on.
But fate in the very moment of triumph that seemed overwhelming and sure was preparing a terrible blow for the South.

A bullet struck Johnston in the ankle.

His boot filled with blood, and the wound continued to bleed fast.

But, despite the urging of his surgeon, who rode with him, he refused to dismount and have the wound bound up.