The captured Parrotts ring and scream. One over-heated gun of the
battery bursts, adding its horrors to the struggle. Logan's men are
leaping over the lines to right and left, bayoneting the gunners.
The Louisianians give way and drift to the rear. The evening shadows
drop over crest, wood, and vale. When the first stars are in the
skies Hood's shattered columns stream back into Atlanta. The three
guns of De Gress have changed hands again. Even the bursted piece
falls once more under the control of the despairing Union artillery
captain. He has left him neither men, horses, fittings, nor harness
available--only three dismantled guns and the wreck of his fourth
piece. But they are back again! Sherman's men with wildest shouts
crowd the field. They drive the broken remnants of the proud
morning array under the guns of the last lines of the doomed city.
Dare-devil Hood has failed. The desperate dash has cost ten thousand
priceless men. The brief command of the Texan fighter has wrecked
the invaluable army of which Joe Johnston was so mindful.
McPherson, who joined the subtlety of Stonewall to the superb bearing
of Sidney Johnston, a hero born, a warrior, and great captain to
be, lies under the stars in the silent chambers of the Howard House.
Pages:
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329