Not a man in that devoted band but knew that the safety of the brigade, perhaps of the army, depended upon the steadfastness with which the point was held, and so fought on and on, with no hope of assistance, but not a thought of giving up. Already nearly half our force lay prostrate, the dead and wounded clogging the footsteps of the living. General Grant has said that there comes a time in every battle when, both sides being nearly exhausted, the combatant who can make the final effort, or hold his own way by sheer force of will, is to be winner. The moment was rapidly approaching to these two wrestlers. The pressure is growing harder and harder.
Every advance seems more difficult to resist.
Ammunition is rapidly exhausted. There is but one expedient, the cold steel, truly a forlorn hope when the force of the enemy is two to one. In an instant, less time than has been required to tell it, Lieutenant Melcher has sprung to the head of the line, the colors are advancing, and the regiment hurls itself down the ledge into the midst of the gray lines. Officers and men strive for the lead. Some have greater opportunities for individual deeds than others, but every man does his duty.