The fighting on Matthews Hill continued unabated with no clear advantage to either combatant. Federal soldiers occupied the Matthews farm buildings. “They were in the shrubbery in the front yard, down through the horse lot, behind the stables and barns and haystacks,” recalled Pvt. Berrien Zettler of the 8th Georgia. “Seemingly a thousand rifles were flashing and the air was alive with whistling bullets. Men were dropping at my right and left…. I could hear the balls striking our boys, and I saw many of them fall forward, some groaning in agony, others dropping dead without a word.” Despite these horrible sights and sounds, Zettler held his position with his comrades and “fired as rapidly as I could.”1
After perhaps twenty minutes of stand-up fighting, Burnside grew increasingly alarmed as the right side of the Confederate line (the 8th Georgia) extended in a northeasterly direction beyond the flank of his own 2nd Rhode Island. He had just already committed his last reserves into the firing line.
On the other side of the line, Gen. Bee grimly watched as Porter’s Federal brigade marched southward along the Manassas-Sudley Road and deployed opposite his vulnerable left flank. Only Evans’ two small units (Wheat’s battalion of five companies—the Tiger Rifles was one of the five—and six companies of the 4th South Carolina) blocked Porter’s advance. Bee would not be able to hold his position much longer. He wanted a fight that day and that was exactly what he got. What he did not want, however, was a fight on Matthews Hill.
Burnside spurred his horse to the right to find Col. Porter and desperately needed reinforcements. “Porter, for God’s sake let me have the Regulars. My men are all being cut to pieces!” he beseeched. In an army whose ranks were populated by green volunteers, Maj. George Sykes’ battalion of Regular army infantry was a valued resource. When Porter refused to give away these troops so easily, Burnside convinced him that the Rhode Islanders’ left flank was about to be turned and that the army would tumble back in defeat without more experienced soldiers stabilizing the front. Porter reluctantly agreed, and the Regulars marched to their left behind Burnside’s line. The troops manning the firing line cheered as Sykes’ Regulars tramped past. The movement was too slow for Burnside’s liking, but he knew encouragement was exactly what was required. He galloped up to the column on his foaming horse and yelled to the unit’s commander, “Good God! Major Sykes, you regulars are just what we want.”
Sykes’ men formed into line of battle immediately upon reaching the left flank of the 2nd Rhode Island. Their first volley was visibly disappointing—a ragged and poorly aimed affair unbefitting these storied Regular troops. “Our men fired badly. They were excited, and some of the recruits fired at the stars,” wrote one member of the unit. Another man agreed. “I did my level best to fire as fast and often as possible,” he explained, “but it does disconcert one’s aim to be under the direct fire of cannon and musketry.” The enemy fire may have been disconcerting, but at least one Georgia officer believed even the early rounds were deadly. Their first shots were “a trifle too high,” he wrote, “but its effect was deadly enough. The blow was staggering and much confusion ensued.”2
The Regulars quickly settled down and began pouring an effective fire into the front and flank of the Georgians. Within a short time the steady hail of small arms fire began to unravel the Georgia line, cutting through the pine thicket with deadly intensity. Gen. Bee watched as his men, individually and in small groups, began quitting the firing line and heading for the rear. He did his best to stop them and was sometimes successful in convincing men to return to their original positions. Those who visited the thicket after the battle were impressed by the sheer number of trees that had been hit by the gunfire.3