Many soldiers of a Civil War brigade tell of their first battle. ?We remember the silent movement of the line through the woods, the ringing cheer for Indiana, the sweep across the field, the odor of resin as the canister burst above us, the sand thrown in our faces by the shot that struck before us, the rush through the thicket, the dash into the redoubt, the breastworks in rear deserted by the flying enemy, the agonizing cry to our men behind to stop firing on us, the determined feeling as we lay on the ground and clung to the captured lunette, while bullets from front and rear, from right and left, pattered like hail on the leaves by our side? That, from Samuel Merrill, introduces a tapestry woven from tales of the participants?in their own words?from enlistment through hard marches chasing a Confederate army in Kentucky, longing for home and family while enduring nights of fear and cold in lonely outposts guarding a railroad in Tennessee, left out of big battles but learning to depend on each other for survival and comradery, then marching to Chattanooga for sham battles and endless drills until Sherman?