On the morning of the 15th, having everything ready, we opened a merciless fire upon the doomed garrison. From high up, almost over their heads and from every side, came the shower of shells pouring in upon them, from which their fortifications afforded no protection. In our immediate front, the ground was comparatively level, or rather it was not so mountainous, and on the crest of a ridge the enemy had a strong line of entrenchment heavily manned. General Jackson and staff were sitting on their horses near my regiment's position, watching the effect of the bombardment. A battery of artillery on our right, I think it was Little Lattimore's that was playing on the enemy's line, limbered and galloped to the front, took a new position on a hill in two or three hundred yards of the enemy and fired as rapidly as I ever saw artillery handled in my life. It was, in fact, an artillery charge. Presently we saw Jackson turned to his couriers and speak a few words to them and immediately they went galloping off to the different divisions. Our hearts trembled. We knew the orders those couriers were carrying. It was the order for a general and simultaneous charge all along the line. The bristling line of bayonets behind strong fortifications, was a dangerous thing to approach and we knew that many of us would fall before we could hope to scale its ramparts and beat back its defenders. But while we were bracing our nerves in solemn dread for the deadly encounter, a thing occurred that sent a thrill of joy to every heart. On the enemy's works, in plain view, was unfurled and fluttered out in the breeze, the white flag of peace. The enemy had surrendered. Cheer after cheer rent the air. We had now accomplished the object of our recent campaign and supposed we would go into camp and have a rest, but to our surprise, three days' rations were issued with orders to cook them and be ready to march by 2 o'clock. Jackson did not even take time receive the surrender, but left that honor to A. P. Hill, and when the sun went down on that victorious day we were many miles away retracing our steps over the same route we had come. We had been on a forced march for some days and in line of battle all the night previous, frequently shifting from one position to another, so that but little sleep or rest could be obtained and now we had to march all night, hastening to join Lee, who was in danger of being attacked by the united armies of McClellan.Two or three miles form the ford, near a small town called Sharpsburg, we found the army in line of battle with the sharpshooters of the two armies popping away at each other, I soon found my regiment in line, taking what rest and sleep they could, while awaiting the attack of the enemy. During the remainder of the day there was very little fighting, both armies manoeuvering for position. That night we slept on our arms in line of battle. We were so exhausted, not having camped for three of four days and nights previous, that as soon as we could get still we were asleep, depending on the sharpshooters in front to apprise us of the approach of the enemy. Next morning we repulsed an assault by the enemy in heavy force. After waiting for some time and seeing no disposition on the part of the enemy to make a further advance upon us, who rather seemed to enjoy standing there and shooting at us while we lay still and took it without molesting them, we concluded to take part in the play. We had a decided advantage of position, in that we were lying flat behind a fence and could not be seen, while they stood upright in the open ground and could be seen, from their feet up, giving us their full length at which we could take deliberate and careful aim. The distance between us was about 300 yards, which is close and easy range for the good Enfield rifles with which we were now armed. When the "Ready" came, every man lying flat on his stomach, with the muzzle of his gun through the crack of the fence, took careful aim and when the order "Fire" rang out on the air, a sheet of flame shot out from the fence up and down its entire lingth, and a line of bullets on the wings of lightning sped over the bosom of the field on their hurried mission of death. When the smoke lifted, which it quickly did, it could be plainly seen that the line, so dark and full when our fingers press the triggers, was now full of long, open gaps, and staggering under the shock of the fire.
Then came the order "Forward, charge!" Over the fence we sprang and raising the yell, as the enemy called it, went at them with all speed.
In this charge the Color-Sergeant, whose name was Ryerson, I think, did a heroic thing. I am sorry I cannot be positive about his name, as he was a member of another company. He ran ahead of the advancing line to within 100 yards of the enemy's line of battle (which had been reinforced by a fresh line) and jumping upon a stump, Waved the flag defiantly at the enemy, making himself a most conspicuous target for their marksmen. Of course, he could not have lived many seconds on that stump, but his brilliant dash had an inspiring influence on our entire line, which, raising the "Rebel Yell," rushed with such impetuosity upon the enemy that they were quickly dirven from the field and the gallant Sergeant, amid the cheers of his comrades, descended from the stump unharmed. History loves to dwell upon the gallant act of Sergeant Jasper, in climbing the flagstaff under the enemy's bombardment, and restoring to its place the flag that had been shot down at Fort Moultrie, but Sergeant Jasper's act was one of prudence and safety, compared with the rashness and peril of that of Sergeant Ryerson.