They would usually divide off into two grand divisions, one line naturally becoming the attacking party, and the other the defensive.

The snow balls would begin to fly hither and thither, with an occasional knock down, and sometimes an ugly wound, where some mean fellow had enclosed a rock in his snow ball.

It was fun while it lasted, but after it was over the soldiers were wet, cold and uncomfortable.
I have seen charges and attacks and routes and stampedes, etc., but before the thing was over, one side did not know one from the other.
It was a general knock down and drag out affair.
SHOOTING A DESERTER One morning I went over to Deshler's brigade of Cleburne's division to see my brother-in-law, Dr.J.E.Dixon.

The snow was on the ground, and the boys were hard at it, "snow balling." While I was standing looking on, a file of soldiers marched by me with a poor fellow on his way to be shot.

He was blindfolded and set upon a stump, and the detail formed.