284 Norta Carortina Troops, 1861-’65.

If we had ever had an idea of abandoning our position this
movement made it utterly impossible. The road at the
mouth of the ravine was closed by a compact mass of the en-
emy, on our right was a high mountain, while the open space
to our left and the road to our rear was all in the possession
of the enemy in great force. The situation presented three
possibilities—surrender, stand up and be shot down by an
enfilading fire, or cut our way through the mass of the enemy
in our rear. It may have been foolhardy, but we chose the
latter. Only a moment and every trooper was in the saddle.
I shall never forget to the day of my death the scene of that
moment. Each soldier seemed to be impressed with the mo-
mentousness of the task before him and rose to the sublimity
of a hero. Owing to the narrowness of the gorge, it was im-
possible to charge in line of battle, and the column was formed
by left wheel into column of fours. Forward! Trot!! Gal-
lop!!! Charge!!!! Down that narrow gorge dashed the
Fifth North Carolina Battalion of Cavalry, riding at full
speed to attack an enemy ten to one, riding right into the jaws
of death. We had to pass out of the mouth of the gorge
through that broken down fence. On dashed the squadron
over loose stones in the bottom of the gorge, the clash and
clang of the empty scabbards, the mighty force behind that
forced forward the front ranks. The head of the column
struck the broken gap in the fence and scattered the heavy
rails right and left like a great projectile impelled by some
mighty force. The head of the column struck the left flank
of the enemy. It was a sudden plunge into a vortex of
gleaming sabres and glittering carbines; a hand-to-hand
struggle; a scene never to be forgotten when this fiery mass
of living valor rolled upon the unyielding foe; rider and
horse, friend and foe went down together like stubble before
a consuming fire. I never knew how many of the battalion
were killed and captured in this unequal contest. I know
that the company (A) that I commanded went into the fight
with 110 strong, and only 13 answered at roll-call the follow-
ing night. I was mounted on a thoroughbred Kentucky horse,
said to have been the horse ridden by General Zollicoffer at
the battle of Fishing Creek. He was a horse of wonderful

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mee

Firra Batra.ion. 285

strength, speed and intelligence. The report of firearms and
the smell of gunpowder made him furious. How to avoid cap-
ture was the absorbing question. I knew that unless they
could overcome the power of my horse they could not get me;
and I left him free to take care of himself. Men and horses
went down before him as if struck by an avalanche. I have
often wondered why I was not killed nor my horse. The
forces were so mixed that firearms could not be used without
danger of killing friend instead of foe is the only solution.
I reached the main top of the hill and as I turned down on
the other side, a horse had been shot and fallen across the
road, and just as my horse made an effort to leap over the
prostrate horse, it made an effort to rise and tripped my horse.
We both went down into the soft mud together. Just then
Lieutenant Keebler came up and seeing my condition, ex-
claimed, “My God! Captain Lusk is killed.” But I was not,
though it looked very much like it. I pulled myself out of
the mud, assisted by horse to rise, remounted amid a shower
of minie balls and rode away solitary and alone to rejoin the
command at Irvine.

This disaster annihilated for the time the entire rear guard.
I do not know just how far it was from the battle ground to
the Kentucky river, but I do know that from the place where
my horse fell in the road to just before reaching the river I
never saw a single soldier except the ones who were shooting
atme. Just before reaching the river I was met by a detach-
ment of the First Louisiana Regiment, together with a num-
ber of soldiers from other commands, posted in the road north
of the river. Having met no resistance since the fight at the
Gap of the mountain, the enemy was recklessly pressing for-
ward, deeming it unnecessary to respect the small detachment
stationed in the road and never halting a moment to ascer-
tain whether it was convenient for us to move out of the way
or whether it was more prudent for them to return, but
charged pell-mell right in among us. The forces engaged
were small, but the fighting was desperate. A thought of
this fight in after years always brings with it a reflection of
sadness. I never during the whole war with cool deliberation
shot one of my fellow men. If I ever killed a man during