We can't much longer hold our position.

A minnie ball passes through my Bible in my side pocket.
All at once we are ordered to open ranks.

Here comes one piece of artillery from a Mississippi battery, bouncing ten feet high, over brush and logs and bending down little trees and saplings, under whip and spur, the horses are champing the bits, and are muddied from head to foot.
Now, quick, quick; look, the Yankees have discovered the battery and are preparing to charge it.

Unlimber, horses and caisson to the rear.
No.

1 shrapnel, load, fire--boom, boom; load, ablouyat--boom, boom.
I saw Sam Seay fall badly wounded and carried to the rear.