Longstreet, used to victory, was upon his right and behind him, and the veterans from the Army of Northern Virginia had never fought better.
Dick saw the enemy all around him, and he began to lose hope.

How could they stand against such numbers?
And if they tried to retreat there was Longstreet to cut off the way.

He bumped against Sergeant Whitley in the smoke and gasped out: "We're done for, Sergeant! We're done for!" "No, we're not!" shouted the sergeant, firing into the advancing mass.
"We'll beat 'em back.

They can't run over us!" The sergeant, usually so cool, was a little mad.

He was wounded in the head, and the blood had run down over his face, dyeing it scarlet.