A CAVALRY CHARGE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVIII, Issue 4, 23 May 1890, Page 27

A CAVALRY CHARGE.

We had been held in reserve on the second day at Gettysburg bo long that men and horses became nervous and afraid. My horse was an old veteran who would drop his head and pick at the green grail with a battery flying on eitner side of us, but ad the momenta dragged away on this occasion he evinced a woman's nervousness. I looked down the lines and saw that tbe alignment was constantly being broken by the horses backing up or forging ahead. They could see the fighting to the right and in front, and the smoke from the union battery to the left and in front of us drove back and over us, and the horses breathed it in and blew it out of their nostrils in gasps. A tremor of excitement — a sort of shiver — ran down the line.

The wind had shifted a bit to blow the smoka to our left, and down across the meadows we saw the Confederate cavalry forming, with the green woods for a background. Jeb Stuart's men were there — Ashby's men — men from Hampton's Legion — Imboden's Virginians — Bosser's Rangers— guerillas from Mosby's command. There were fragments from every cavalry command we had met on the turnpikes of old Virginia, and there wasn't a squadron which wouldn'c stand for a charge. The battery began firing more rapidly, and there wasn't a man of us who didn't realise what was coming long enough before we got the word. Some of the horses knew it, too You could feel them filling their lungs and stringing up their nerves for hard work.

The troopers in grey wheeled into line under a fire which must have tried the rerves of the bravest, and then the compact mass got the word of advance. They were coming for our battery, which waa without infantry supports. There we stood, two thin, short lues, representing a thousand dragoons, but not numbering one half of that figure, and a body of five to one waj moving down upon us. I saw several of the gunners look back. They saw the odds, and wondsred, perhaps, why we did not run away. " Attention 1 " We had obeyed the order before it was given. " Bight dress I " We were a minute ahead of the command.

" Forward — draw sabres — guide right— trot I "

Ah ! We are off t The grey moves north and the blue moves south. We are going to meet in the meadow below. We must hold them back until infantry supports can be brought up. Every man knows that he is moving down into a maelstrom of death, but no one lags. A strange exultation creeps into the heart. It is as if you had heard some grand, good news, and wanted to shout over it and tell everybody of your good luck.

" Gallop— charge ! " Death ! Why, if one could die a sc^re of times instead of only once, there would be no fear. I sit so lightly in the saddle that my horse seems to have no weight to carry. He skims over the ground as if be had wings, and I begin cheering and yelling m chorus with my comrades. It is a living missile of five hundred men thrown at the front of three thousand. What a crash there will be ! How horses will go down and men pitch from their saddles 1 Afraid 1 No 1 Why, man, 1 would not miss this Bcene for a year's life ! My hand clutches the saber with a strength I did not know 1 possessed. I feel a hunger for blood such as I never felt before. "Vi 1 Vi 1 Whoop— rah I " and we Btrike them fair in the centre. The five hundred have the greatest momentum, and we drive through tbe three thousand as a wedge is pounded into soft wood. Men strike at me. There is a flash, flash, and a pop I pop lof pistols. I strike back. I feel the de6ire of the tiger to slay.

" Bally 1 " We have driven through the mass, and the bugles sound the call to gather for the return. The horses obey it without a touch of the rein. It seems that the whole living mass ia riding in a circle, and that there is blood on every man and horse. All of a sudden we shoot out from under the smoke-cloud into tbe sunshine — not the five hundred, but the three hundred — and the battery opens again. We are to the right of it, and it sends grapeshot into a wild mob to drive it back into the cover of the woods. It is a sight to look down over the field. Five hundred dead and wounded men and horses are lying there, It is only as I sit on my horse and look over the field that £

begin to feel weak and grow frightened. My head begins to swim — things grow dark, and some ona helps me to the ground. I have a pistol ball in my shoulder, and the blood is running down my back from — a caber cut in the head. — Detroit Free Press.