Thick with bullets.
The air seemed to be thick with bullets.
It may perhaps be thought strange that twelve or fourteen men would stay there under such circumstances, but we had been trained to stand to our guns until we had orders to leave them, or they had been taken by the enemy.
One of our guns had been pulled out of the breastworks and was pointing down the line of now empty fortifications to our left, and was pouring canister into the ranks of the advancing
Yankees, with as much vim as if we could have hoped to drive them back, and the other gun was hurling shell with equal rapidity into the line of battle which was closing in on us from the front.
This was a strange looking battle.
Two guns fighting perhaps ten thousand men. It was very much like the combat between David and Goliath; except that Goliath had so many lives this time that David's ‘smooth stones’ made very little impression.
Our cannister was now gone and I was sitting on a pile of ammunition behind the gun giving out shells and case-shot in which no fuse had been fixed, because the enemy was now so close on us that fuse could not be used to any advantage.
