FORE:Though still more than two miles from the low crest of Snodgrass Hill, where Gen. Thomas, with the remainder of the Army of the Cumberland, was standing savagely at bay against the fierce assaults of Bragg's and Longstreet's overwhelming numbers, they were soon in the midst of the wild ruck and confusion of the rear of a great battle. Miles of wagons were being urged hither and yon, some times in accordance with intelligent orders by officers, more often from the panicky fears of wagon-masters and teamsters; riderless horses with saddles under their bellies were galloping frantically around; squads of artillerymen in search of ammunition were storming about, cursing cowardly teamsters, whom they could not find; streams of wounded men were trying to make their way to the hospitals; officers were yelling and swearing in their attempts to rally shirks and cowards who had fled from the front; men from regiments which had been broken and scattered by the fierce assaults were trying to find their colors; Colonels whose regiments had been ordered up from the rear were fiercely forcing their way forward, with many dire objurgations on all who impeded their progress.Then he would go off and try to compose his thoughts for a letter to Jerusha Briggs, but before he knew it he would find himself in the kitchen watching, with dumb admiration, Maria knead bread, with her sleeves rolled to her shoulders, and her white, plump arms and bright face streaked with flour. There would be little conversation, for Maria would sing with a lark's voice, as she worked, some of the sweet old hymns, chording with Amanda, busy in another part of the house. Shorty did not want to talk. It was enough for him to feast his eyes and ears.
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