It appeared as if some supernatural, infernal battle was going on and the air was full of smoke.

We had not seen the Yankees.

I ran to a tree to my right, and just as I got to it, I saw my comrade sink to the ground, clutching at the air as he fell dead.
I kept trying to see the Yankees, so that I might shoot.

I had been looking a hundred yards ahead, when happening to look not more than ten paces from me, I saw a big six-foot Yankee with a black feather in his hat, aiming deliberately at me.

I dropped to the ground, and at the same moment heard the report, and my hat was knocked off in the bushes.
I remained perfectly still, and in a few minutes I saw a young Yankee lieutenant peering through the bushes.