I'm going to charge. Now you
men listen--listen to me, I say! not to that fellow--listen to me!"
Ned could hear him still talking excitedly to his eager men as he dashed
back to the battle line.
General Hooker sat on the porch of the Chancellor House, his
headquarters. On the east there was heavy firing where his men were
attempting to carry out his orders to flank Lee's retreating army.
Sickles' and Pleasanton's cavalry were already in pursuit. By some
curious trick of the breeze or atmospheric conditions not a sound had
reached him from the direction of his right wing. A staff officer
suddenly turned his glasses to the west.
"My God, here they come!"
Before the astounded Commander could leap from the porch to his horse
the flying stragglers of his shattered right were pouring into
view--men, wagons, ambulances, in utter confusion. Hooker swung his old
division under General Berry into line and shouted to his veterans:
"Forward with the bayonet!"
The sturdy division plowed its way through the receding blue waves of
panic-stricken men and dashed into the face of the overwhelming hosts.
Major Keenan, in command of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry, charged with
his gallant five hundred into the face of almost certain death and held
the grey lines in check until the artillery of the Third Corps was saved
and turned on the advancing Confederates.
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