Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1893-07-08
ON THE SKlRMISH LINE.
The Hard Fighting That Is Done by the
Advance Guard.

Advance Guard.
We get the word and deploy in front
of the regiment-a line of men from
ten to fifteen feet apart-and advance
across the old field. We know where
the enemy is--in the green woods ON
the far side. There is fear that he is
massing brigade there, and that the
first seen of him will be line of battle
sweeping across the field We know
where his sllirmishers are-behind the
fringe of bushes on the other side of
the creek half mile in our front.
Over the fence-across the level
down the slope, and ping! zipp! ping!
come the bullets from the hidden skir-
mishers. All! a man down-two or
three of them! If dead we can do them
no good; if only wounded they must
crawl away to the rear or lie quivering
and groaning in some of the hollows
until we are relieved. Our side of the
creek also has its fringe of bushes, and
at intervals there are rocks and logs
and stumps. Like cats we creep for
ward-lilse cats we crouch behind cover
and peer over logs or to the right OF
left of the rocks.
'Pop! Pop! Zipp' Zipp! Thud! Thud!"
A hundred men on each side are
blazing away, and the heavy bullets,
fired almost at random, strike the logs
and s;umps with muffled thud, or
smash against the rocks to be flattened
like waters and drop into the grass.
That bullet was fired by an old veteran.
I almost felt the burn of it as it
whizzed by my cheek. That one was
fired by recruit, who is probably on
the skirmish line for the first time. 1t
was at least twenty feet above my
head, droning like huge bumblebec,
and it will fall among the troops far to
our rear. Who uttered that scream?
The man on my right is safe-the one
on my left has turned on his back. His
cap has fallen off and there is blood on
his head and face. He is not dead-not
even fatally wounded. A bullet plowed
his scalp as he looked out from behind
his cover to find a human target for his
bullet. He cried out with the burning
pain, but he mutters and curses and
seems ashamed of his weakness as he
feels for his handkerchief and binds up
| his bleeding head.
The man opposite me Is not over sixty
| feet away, but so screened that l can
not see him. l can judge of his po-
sition, however, by the line of his fire.
All the bullets which come whizzing by
the rock to the right and all those
which smash against it with sound to
make your teeth grit are from his
musket. Those which cut in from the
left or pass over are random shots. BY
accident l have the captains field
glasses l draw them from the case,
rub up the lenses and cautiously level
them from the left-hand side of the
rock. For few seconds l can see
nothing but blur of foliage Their
the details begin to come out. There
is stump among the tangle on the
other bank, and as l hold the glasses
on it catch sight of an elbow and a
shoulder and hat A musllet barrel
is thrust forth and a sheet of flame
darts over the creeping blackberry
bushes and 'smash!" comes n bulle
against the rock. There is no mercy IL
war. From the sl1irmish line to the
rush of division it means cripple OF
kill.
lay down the glasses and pick W
my musket. reach up and pull at tn,
limbs of bush to form a screen, ant