Here rebel sharpshooters had been stationed, and they opened a galling fire upon us.

We returned it, but what could we do?
We were compelled to retire, and did so in good order, but unfortunately not until the sharpshooters had picked off some of our best men.
"Among the victims was the poor lad whom I assisted.

A second bullet struck him in the heart.

He uttered just one word, 'mother,' and fell.
Poor boy, and poor mother! He seemed to have a premonition of his approaching death, and requested me the day previous to take charge of his effects, and send them with his love and a lock of his hair to his mother if anything should befall him.

This request I shall at once comply with.