It was ground upon which the Union army had stood in the morning.
The rifle fire, which had died down, began again in a fitful way.

Far off, skirmishers, not satisfied with the slaughter of the day, were seeing what harm they could do in the dark.

Somewhere the plumed and unresting Stuart was charging with his horsemen, driving back some portion of the Union army that the Confederate forces might be on their flank in the morning.
But Dick, as he lay quietly and felt his strength, mental and physical, returning, was taking a resolution.

Down there in front of them and in the darkness was the wood upon which they had made five great assaults, all to fail.

In front of that mournful forest, and within its edge, more than ten thousand men had fallen.