June 12 — We slept by our guns last night, but no hostile tread disturbed our repose. This is the Sabbath day, and when the sweet light of morn with golden glow first bathed the woods and hills and spread a brilliant sheen on the dewy field, not a single harsh sound of war, nor thrilling bugle blast to charge, marred the peaceful Sabbath calm. It was a beautiful morning, for Nature had donned her lovliest garb, and yards and gardens were bedecked with early summer flowers that had just unfolded their brightest and freshest hues; an odoriferous flood of rich perfume from a thousand fresh, sweet-scented June roses and sweetbrier bloom was wafted over the dew-bespangled fields by the wings of a balmy morning zephyr. Men may write and women may sing, “I would not live alway,” but I would not woo nor welcome death on such a lovely day as this. After the early hours of morning wore away a slow but steady fire commenced and was kept up along the front, by sharpshooters on both sides, until after the middle of the day. About noon we were ordered to the front with the artillery, to take part in the conflict that was poulticed all forenoon with warm bullets from the sharpshooters’ rifles, and the battle was ripe and ready to open. When we arrived at the front we put our guns in battery about five hundred yards from the enemy’s position, and were ready for the curtain to rise and the game to uncover. A portion of the enemy’s line was in a brush woods with an open field in front, but the strongest point of their line and the key of their position was a railroad cut which was full of dismounted riflemen.
At about three o’clock this afternoon the enemy made their first attempt to assault our position, and they came with the determination to break our line; we opened a rapid fire on them with all our guns, firing short-ranged shrapnel. Our cavalry also opened a heavy fire with something that sounded very much like musketry.
Three times the enemy charged from the woods and the railroad cut, firing as they came, and were repulsed every time. As the assaulting line came dashing out of the woods and over the field we opened on them with canister, firing as rapidly as possible, breaking their line every time and hurling it back to the woods, while our cavalry poured a heavy fire into the Yanks until their broken line slipped into the woods.
Every time the assaulting line rushed out of the woods and charged into the field they opened a heavy fire of musketry on our line and position; then a storm of bullets zipped and whizzed and thudded around our guns, as thick as hail.
During the settled down part of the fight, when men stood and fired at each other like animated targets, that portion of the enemy’s line that was in the railroad cut was in a secure position, well sheltered from our fire, and it took nice and scientific work on our side to-day to dodge the well-aimed bullets that were fired with such cool deliberation. The second gun of our battery was in position opposite the southern end, or rather in front, of the railroad cut and under a raking fire of the riflemen in the cut. About one hour after the battle commenced the gunner of the second gun was wounded, and I was hurriedly sent for, to take his place. The second gun was in position about three hundred yards to the left of where my gun was, and on higher, ground, and the space between was all open field and fully exposed to the enemy’s fire, and the death pellets were flying all over the field, for the Yankee riflemen were then firing at any and every thing that moved. Therefore I did not go straight through the field toward the second gun, but flanked rearward and struck a woods about fifty yards in rear of our line, which afforded me friendly shelter and a healthier clime whereby to pursue my way to the field of dangers new. I stuck to the woods until I got in rear of the second gun, where, as I climbed the fence at the edge of the woods to go into the field, a cannonball from one of the enemy’s batteries whizzed through the fence right under me and snapped in two the third rail from the ground while I was on top of the fence. If I had been a second later or a few moments earlier I might have lost a leg or two; but once more a miss was as good as a mile.
I jumped off the fence and ran to the gun, which was in position about fifty yards from the woods, and opened fire on the enemy’s line at the south end of the railroad cut. There was a large house just in rear of the Yankee line and rather to the left of the railroad cut, which was occupied by a goodly number of the enemy’s sharpshooters, who were firing from the upper windows with long-range rifles and doing some damage to our dismounted sharpshooters, and causing considerable annoyance to the left of our line by now and then dropping a cavalryman dead in his tracks. I saw the house and also saw the sharpshooters firing from the windows, but I had no orders to fire on the house, and, moreover, I was just then firing at closer game. After I fired some eight or ten shell General Butler of South Carolina came riding on the field where we were and glanced at the situation a moment, then rode up to my gun and, pointing at the house where the enemy’s sharpshooters were, said to me, “Fire that house.” I immediately turned my gun, and the very first shell I fired struck the house and set it ablaze; however, I sent another shell at it for quick work and good measure. Just after I fired the first shell I saw a thick volume of smoke rising from the roof, while a nice little stream of Yankee sharpshooters rolled out below, and that completely cleaned up the sharpshooting business from that point for all time to come.
The battle lasted from three o’clock until dark, when the general fight ended, but we remained on the field until ten o’clock to-night, firing an occasional shell to let the Yanks understand that we were still holding our ground and ready for business. Our side lost comparatively few men to-day, considering the severity and duration of the conflict; in our company we had three killed and six wounded. The battle was fought on the Central Railroad one mile above Trevillian Station, in a slightly rolling country, mostly farm lands, diversified with here and there small stretches of woodland.
When we left the battle-ground to-night we moved back a few miles and camped in the Green Spring country, a small scope of beautiful country of rich and fertile land that produces abundant crops of wheat, corn, and grass. We are camped to-night in a field where the clover is two feet high. The land here is nearly level, save where here and there a gentle wave-like swell breaks across the plain like billows on an emerald sea.
