Below is a roll of death, which Louisiana, deprived of brave sons by wounds received during the siege, signed in tears with her blood on July 4, 1863.
Officers reported killed: Third Louisiana, Capt. J. E. Johnson, John Kinney, Lieut. A. S. Randolph; Twenty-first Louisiana, Capt. J. Ryan, Lieut. G. H. Mann; Twentysecond Louisiana, Capt. F. Gomez, Lieut. R. E. Lehman; Twenty-sixth Louisiana, Maj. W. W. Martin, Capt. Felix G. Winder, Lieuts. M. Arnaux, Peter Feriner; Twentysev-enth Louisiana, Lieut-Col. L. L. McLaurin, Lieut. Geo. Harris, Col. L. D. Marks, mortally wounded; Twentyeighth (Twenty-ninth) Louisiana, Capt. F. Newman, Lieuts. B. F. Millett, I. G. Sims; Thirty-first Louisiana, Col. S. H. Griffin; Seventeenth Louisiana, Lieut.-Col Madison Rogers.
For heavy and light artillery alike, it was of truth a martial education to have stood within the defenses of Vicksburg during her historic siege. Not a man from the State but had proved brave to fight, and strong to endure. Indeed, in all the epoch of Vicksburg's glory, no quality was so apparent in them as that of heroism which knew how to face peril—no transient guest this—with a smile as brave as the heart was steady. The Louisianians at Vicksburg did not laugh as their comrades at Port Hudson had done. Life for them was terribly unreal. Death alone was real because its dart alone was visible. Weary was the time, yet always calmly resolute were the heroes of Vicksburg. The sun burned them by day, and the night, instead of bringing rest, brought no relief from mines exploding and breaches opened. ‘The first assault upon Vicksburg, May 18th, was met,’ said
