It seemed to be platoons of artillery.
The earth jarred and trembled like an earthquake.

Deadly missiles were flying in every direction.

It was the very incarnation of death itself.
I could almost hear the shriek of the death angel passing over the scene.
General Smith was killed in ten minutes after I saw him.

Bob Stout and myself stopped.

Said I, "Bob, you wern't killed, as you expected." He did not reply, for at that very moment a solid shot from the Federal guns struck him between the waist and the hip, tearing off one leg and scattering his bowels all over the ground.