It was at the battle of Malvern Hill--a battle where the carnage was more frightful, as it seems to me, than in any this side of the Alleghanies during the whole war--that my story must begin. I was then serving as Major in the --th Massachusetts Regiment--the old --th, as we used to call it--and a bloody time the boys had of it too. About 2 p. m. we had been sent out to skirmish along the edge of the wood in which, as our generals suspected, the Rebs lay massing for a charge across the slope, upon the crest of which our army was posted. We had barely entered the underbrush when we met the heavy formations of Magruder in the very act of charging. Of course, our thin line of skirmishers was n…
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