Joseph T. Wilson,
The Black Phalanx
“ Hissing and bursting shells from Appomattox river to Hatcher's Run filled in a scene never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it. It was as if demons incarnate were holding a jubilee. As far as the eye could reach there was one blaze of fiery shot. The world has seldom seen its like. Where our brigade was to operate was a dense wilderness of pines with matted underbrush, but in the morning it looked as though a sirocco had kissed it. ”
