And yet there was a feeling, a faint hope, that I might escape through some defect in the aim of the executioner. I prepared myself for the fatal shot by leaning slightly forward, crossing my hands upon my breast, and closing my eyes. The weapon snapped five times before it went off. When it did so, the ball passed through my left ear, grazing my skull and rendering me numb and senseless.

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Grandstaff stood to Crouse’s left and remembered that his friend never flinched before he pitched forward onto his face. Grandstaff was next. The executioner’s bullet struck his skull above the left ear and passed under the skin until it lodged above his left eye. He fell to the ground but remained conscious long enough to hear the guerrillas shoot everyone in a third squad. He knew none of the last bunch except for Hoombaugh, a mere boy of about 14 or 15, who he later recalled ‘begged pitifully’ until he was killed. The remaining Yankees were brought forward in turn until all 19 defenseless prisoners had been deliberately slaughtered by the bushwackers.

After murdering their captives, Brownlee Cross’ men began to rob the bodies, rifling the pockets for valuables and removing serviceable clothing. Someone began to cut the buttons from Grandstaff’s coat, but another man stopped him because he wanted the garment. They took the coat, then removed his shoes. But when someone tried to take Grandstaff’s suspenders, one of the killers suddenly manifested a surprising sense of moral probity and declared that it would not be right to do so. Another guerrilla pointed out that ‘it was not so bad as they had been doing, as they had been killing them.’ Finishing with Grandstaff, they rolled his body into a gully.

Sergeant Blanchard regained his senses as the murderers searched his body for plunder. He remembered: ‘I soon came to myself and found the guerrillas cutting the buttons from my coat and searching my pockets, but as I laid on my left side, they did not find my pocketbook containing forty dollars. They took my boots, pants and hat, and left an old pair of shoes.’ One of those standing over the sergeant discovered that he was still alive and said, ‘John, this damned rascal aint dead; he’s playing off.’ John was out of ammunition, so he replied, ‘Damn him, he’s shot clean through; he’s dead enough.’ They then walked away, leaving Blanchard to die.

One guerrilla turned Crouse over and cut off his coat buttons. While searching the body, he discovered a heartbeat and uttered an oath. Standing over the wounded Yankee, the killer pulled his pistol to finish the job. Hearing the gun cock, Crouse opened his eyes and found himself staring into the muzzle. He recalled: ‘When the revolver went off I closed my eyes, stretched my hands out, and quivered my fingers. He said, with an oath: ‘Now he is dead! See him clench his hands!’ Another said: ‘His brains flew in my face!’ I knew that was not true, but refrained from telling him so, for very prudent reasons.’ The murderers rolled Crouse, now seriously wounded in the throat, into the gully with Grandstaff. After a while, Crouse raised his head, but Grandstaff whispered to lie still, since the killers remained close by. The two friends told one another of their injuries, then waited for total darkness.

After the guerrillas had gone, Crouse and Grandstaff managed to get up and climb out of the gully, grabbing onto bushes and branches for support. Grandstaff later recalled their situation:

We were in a large pine forest in country where we did not know a single landmark and could not tell east from west. Our only thought was to get away from that bloody ground. There was no light of moon or star to guide us. The shadows of the pines were impenetrable. A heavy sleet was falling. My companion thought it unwise to follow the path we had come over, even if we could have done so. All we could do was to choose the general direction in which our command lay, as nearly as we could determine it. That we were guided by a Higher Power than our own I have never doubted.

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