I never in my whole life saw more dust.

The dust fairly popped under our feet, like tramping in a snow-drift, and our eyes, and noses, and mouths, were filled with the dust that arose from our footsteps, and to make matters worse, the boys all tried to kick up a "bigger dust." Cavalry and artillery could not be seen at ten paces, being perfectly enveloped in dust.

It was a perfect fog of dust.

We were marching along, it then being nearly dark, when we heard the hoarse boom of a cannon in our rear.

It sounded as if it had a bad attack of croup.