So sudden and unexpected was
Custer's advance, that the artillery camps were entirely surprised. At
one moment, the men were lying down in their tents, dozing, smoking,
laughing--the horses turned out to graze, the guns covered, a profound
peace reigning--at the next, they were running to arms, shouting, and
in confusion, with the blue cavalry charging straight on their tents,
sabre in hand.
Breathed had been lounging like the rest, laughing and talking with the
men. Peril made him suddenly king, and, sabre in hand, he rushed to the
guns, calling to his men to follow.
With his own hands he wheeled a gun round, drove home a charge, and
trained the piece to bear upon the Federal cavalry, trampling in among
the tents within fifty yards of him.
"Man the guns!" he shouted, in his voice of thunder. "Stand to your
guns, boys! You promised me you would never let these guns be
taken!"[1]
[Footnote 1: His words.]
A roar of voices answered him. The bull-dogs thrilled at the voice of
the master. Suddenly the pieces spouted flame; shell and canister tore
through the Federal ranks. Breathed was everywhere, cheering on the
cannoneers. Discharge succeeded discharge; the ground shook: then the
enemy gave back, wavering and losing heart.
Breathed seized the moment. Many of the horses had been caught and
hastily saddled.
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