killed, and the survivors had been driven away from the guns three times. Never had they been in so hot a spot.
It was the same with the others. The Rhode Island battery lost men so fast that its skipper, Captain John G. Hazard, went back to the ditch, rounded up infantry stragglers, and brought them up to help work his guns. General Howard, who saw it all, wrote that his conduct was "equal to anything I ever saw on a field oi: battle." And presently young Lieutenant Adams, commanding the right section of this battery, limbered up one of his guns and went galloping madly forward with it until h e was less than 150 yards away f rom the stone wall, where he unlimbered in the open road. This looked like nothing in the world but a spectacular way to commit suicide, and three cannoneers in succession were killed at the gun's muzzle before the first charge could be rammed home. But the gun and its crew stayed there, pounding at close range at the stone wall, firing, as one of Hancock's staff reported, as coolly as if they had been firing blank cartridges on a review. 16
The winter twilight came, and Couch rode forward to the brick house and found the smoke and dusk so heavy that he could not see the enemy and supposed that the enemy could not see him, although, as he wrote later, he was "aware of the fact that somebody in our front was doing a great deal of shooting." It seems that he rode from one end of his prostrate battle line to the other, chatting with Lieutenant Adams and his gunners for a while and then riding slowly to the other flank. Except for the gunners and the men who were sheltering behind the brick house, he was the only man in the field who was not lying down taking cover. At length, cool and unhurried, he rode back to town, and if there was anything about the plight of his troops which he did not know it was not because he had failed to go out and see for himself. 17
And still the high command had not had enough. It kept sending fresh troops in as resolutely as a butcher pushing raw material into a mincing machine. General Andrew Humphreys from the V Corps brought forward his two untried brigades of Pennsylvanians—nine-month troops enlisted the previou s summer, hurried down to Antie tam just too late to get into the fighting there, somewhat looked down upon by the long-term troops, but drilled and disciplined by one of the sharpest taskmasters in the army. Humphreys was tall and slim; he had been born without nerves and was decidedly a martinet, and as he took his regiments in he left no one behind. The colonel of one outfit had detailed half a dozen of the youngest, frailest soldiers to guard the regiment's knapsacks which had been piled in a side street, but Humphreys made harsh remarks about stragglers and relentlessly drove the boys on with the rest.
He got his soldiers across the canal and formed them into two lines in the murk of the fading day, and it seemed to him that the only possible chance was to keep going without a halt. If the men ever stopped to fire they were lost, best make a straight bayonet charge out of it. He issued his orders accordingly, his rookies fixed bayonets, and forward they went. As they came up through the human debris of all the previous charges, the unwounded men on the ground reached up and tried to hold them back, telling them that it was no use to go on. It was nearly dark, the field was very muddy, and the men stumbled on through the dead and wounded and the clutching hands of the unwounded, and their lines grew disordered. A staff officer galloped up, sword swinging in the dim light, yelling to the men to close and dress their ranks; and just then a great sweep of fire lit up the entire length of the stone wall, and farther up the hill and far off to right and left there were incessant quick flashings from the Rebel cannon, and the staff officer was shot down and so was nearly half of the division. The men staggered to a halt—as close to the wall, Humphreys noted
It was the same with the others. The Rhode Island battery lost men so fast that its skipper, Captain John G. Hazard, went back to the ditch, rounded up infantry stragglers, and brought them up to help work his guns. General Howard, who saw it all, wrote that his conduct was "equal to anything I ever saw on a field oi: battle." And presently young Lieutenant Adams, commanding the right section of this battery, limbered up one of his guns and went galloping madly forward with it until h e was less than 150 yards away f rom the stone wall, where he unlimbered in the open road. This looked like nothing in the world but a spectacular way to commit suicide, and three cannoneers in succession were killed at the gun's muzzle before the first charge could be rammed home. But the gun and its crew stayed there, pounding at close range at the stone wall, firing, as one of Hancock's staff reported, as coolly as if they had been firing blank cartridges on a review. 16
The winter twilight came, and Couch rode forward to the brick house and found the smoke and dusk so heavy that he could not see the enemy and supposed that the enemy could not see him, although, as he wrote later, he was "aware of the fact that somebody in our front was doing a great deal of shooting." It seems that he rode from one end of his prostrate battle line to the other, chatting with Lieutenant Adams and his gunners for a while and then riding slowly to the other flank. Except for the gunners and the men who were sheltering behind the brick house, he was the only man in the field who was not lying down taking cover. At length, cool and unhurried, he rode back to town, and if there was anything about the plight of his troops which he did not know it was not because he had failed to go out and see for himself. 17
And still the high command had not had enough. It kept sending fresh troops in as resolutely as a butcher pushing raw material into a mincing machine. General Andrew Humphreys from the V Corps brought forward his two untried brigades of Pennsylvanians—nine-month troops enlisted the previou s summer, hurried down to Antie tam just too late to get into the fighting there, somewhat looked down upon by the long-term troops, but drilled and disciplined by one of the sharpest taskmasters in the army. Humphreys was tall and slim; he had been born without nerves and was decidedly a martinet, and as he took his regiments in he left no one behind. The colonel of one outfit had detailed half a dozen of the youngest, frailest soldiers to guard the regiment's knapsacks which had been piled in a side street, but Humphreys made harsh remarks about stragglers and relentlessly drove the boys on with the rest.
He got his soldiers across the canal and formed them into two lines in the murk of the fading day, and it seemed to him that the only possible chance was to keep going without a halt. If the men ever stopped to fire they were lost, best make a straight bayonet charge out of it. He issued his orders accordingly, his rookies fixed bayonets, and forward they went. As they came up through the human debris of all the previous charges, the unwounded men on the ground reached up and tried to hold them back, telling them that it was no use to go on. It was nearly dark, the field was very muddy, and the men stumbled on through the dead and wounded and the clutching hands of the unwounded, and their lines grew disordered. A staff officer galloped up, sword swinging in the dim light, yelling to the men to close and dress their ranks; and just then a great sweep of fire lit up the entire length of the stone wall, and farther up the hill and far off to right and left there were incessant quick flashings from the Rebel cannon, and the staff officer was shot down and so was nearly half of the division. The men staggered to a halt—as close to the wall, Humphreys noted
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