B. TILBURY Twelve-pound balls, canister, shrapnel. We sent them all at the Southerners. Then their artillery took our measure and commenced to devil us in return. We’d fire and they’d fire. I expect they crouched when they heard a shell coming, same as we did. I almost felt I’d a double across the lines. I took to wondering whether their men were truly all savages, as I’d heard tell. They pulled back and hid their guns behind a house. Union shells ripped right through the walls. There was a woman inside, it turned out, and some of her kin. A man ran out, screaming “They’ve killed my mother!” over and over. I asked myself why soldiering was praised up as something to be proud of. We then pulled our guns to a hill far forward, with no infantry to protect us. We protested, but it was McDowell’s order. A line of men in blue marched toward us. Captain Griffin swore they were Rebels, but Major Barry swore even louder that they were our infantry support. There was no wind at all, so their flag hung limp.
