I saw a man in gray standing in a path that the cows had made among the pines, and I

was standing in the same path, loading my gun, and he aimed dead for my chest.

I was green and didn't jump to one side as we learned to do afterward, but thought I

was a goner, sure.

Just then my ramrod slipped from my hand, and I stooped over quick and caught it before

it reached the ground.

And as I rose up, I saw my enemy's gun smoking in his hand, and he's staring at me in amazement.

When I took my overcoat off, I found that his ball had struck the coat just at the collar

at the back of the neck, and had cut a strip right down the back.

He had made a center shot just as I caught my ramrod.

Sargent Frank B. Nickerson, 8th Ohio, Kimbles Brigade.

We went into an open field through a gate in a stone fence.

My gun was third, and as we passed through this gate, one hub caught on the gate post,

and one of the hind traces broke.

I dismounted and helped the driver to fix it by cutting a hole in the trace, and we moved

on.

The delay was but for a moment, but during that time a shell from the enemy struck the

off-horse of the piece next behind me, passed through him into the saddle-horse, taking

off the driver's leg, and then exploded in this horse, and one piece of shell took

off the foot of a recruit named Gray, who was standing nearby.

The wounded men were carried to the rear, and in a surprisingly short time the guns were

again in motion.

...