September 17, 1862, Sharpsburg, Maryland

"The Earth shall tremble at the look of the Lord; 
if He do but touch the hills, they shall smoke."

I cannot write much tonight. Saltron has been killed!  
During the terrible battle that lasted all day, 
Saltron was hit by an artillery shell and was gone in 
a flash.  It happened about when I, with Sorrel and 
Manning and others of the staff,  were firing two 
cannons, whose gunners had all been killed or wounded.  
So dangerous was our situation that we staff officers 
had to become artillery men!

General Longstreet held the horses and told us what to 
do, and we fired and fired at the oncoming Yankees. I 
don't know if we hit anyone or anything, but we made a 
terrible noise, if nothing else.  And somewhere in all 
that fire and smoke, Saltron went down dead, shot in 
the back.  The noblest horse, the most loyal friend, 
whom I bred and raised and loved as if he were my own
child, is gone. 

I stumbled back, in tears, to General Longstreet with 
this terrible news, and he gave me a funny look. 
"Major, you should be glad you were not shot in your 
own back!" he said.

Our lines nearly broke under the Federal attacks 
several times, but at the last minute, General A.P. 
Hill came up with his division and drove the enemy 
back. He saved the Army from destruction, and General 
McClellan seems to have no more stomach for fighting 
us after Hill crushed that last Yankee charge.

But now we will have to return to Virginia. General 
Lee's invasion of the north had been successful, but 
the horrors of this battle, and our army's terrible 
weakness now make it necessary for us to go.  The 
dead are in heaps and rows, all the cornfields are 
shot down, the houses in town are full of shell 
holes, smoke and fire are everywhere, and the wounded 
and dying are too many to count. It is as if the earth 
opened and allowed hell itself to swallow us up.

General Lee has been bolder than bold these last four 
months, winning every battle as we came north from 
Richmond, and General Jackson has done splendid 
fighting too, often far out in front of the the rest 
of the Army. He and General Longstreet now each command 
about half of the Army.

But the time for boldness has passed for us now, and we 
must go home. And I must grieve for my lost four-footed 
friend. There could never be another like him.