The Henry Rifle
S ENTLY, THE CONFEDERATE infantry advanced through the sun-dappled shade of the woods. Ahead lay an open area that sloped gently up p to ir objective – the high ground held by a handful of northern soldiers. Su enly, bloodcurdling rebel yells r t the air as the grey-clad horde burst from the forest.
The advancing confederates had covered only 50 yards when a cloud of white smoke rose from the Union position and leaden death thudded into their ranks. But the battle-hardened southerners had expected this; now there would be a pause as the enemy frantically tore open paper cartridges and rammed powder and ball down hot barrels then groped for the fiddly caps to seat on the nipples of their muzzle-loaders. But… no… not this time! Immediately a second cloud of smoke shrouded the enemy position and a second hail of lead struck the rebel line... then another... and another. Reeling under the continual fusillades, the southerners halted, bewildered and confused. What in
