yes it's a form of historical text. I an type reading material to you if that's ok, and then you please help me to find the answers. Here is the reading material...
Garibaldi, while intending to keep the defensive, was perfectly ready to take the offensive at the first opportunity.
At six o'clock, 16,000(of the enemy) had left Capua; 5,000 of these were cavalry. At the same time 5,000 men marched on to Maddaloni to cut off the retreat of the Garibaldians by taking them in the rear. As soon as Egerton and myself heard the firing, we rushed off up the street, where we were met by an old man, who said the Neapolitians had driven where the Garibaldians over the fifteen arches of the railway, and he apprehended the worst. Thing, right, that St. Angelo would give us the best chance of service, Egerton and I, in spite of the balls and grape-shot now hotly whistling about on every side, started off for St. Angelo, along the dusty high road from Santa Maria.
That morning, profiting by the thick mists which rise from the low ground near the river, I had seen them so thick indeed-and they were at that time-that you could hardly see with any certainty at the least distance-(the enemy) had advanced nearly up to a barricade constructed to guard a position at a point where a by-road from Capua to St. Angelo cuts the road from Santa Maria, where the road turns up to St. Angelo.
They had affected this advance under cover of the day beds of mountain torrents, steep and well screened with brushwood. With the nature of the ground, and the thick white mist likewise in their favor, they rushed at the barricade with terrible impetuosity, and drove the Garbaldini at first across the main road, right away towards St. Angelo. Along the road are open fields, where I have many a time since then sat and boiled by coffee in my canteen over a wood fire, or with a writing-case on my knee indited letters to my friends at home, with the scene vividly before me. Taking up position there, they formed well.
They had, it seems, been equally successful on the left; for they had driven the Garibaldians also away from a trench near the river. More-over, a column of theirs had actually got up the hill which commands St. Angelo.
Nothing but the genius of Garbaldi in that terrible hour could have turned his fortunes so far. He arrived in the very nick of time. He came along rapidly with his staff in carriages from Santa Maria, and was rattling along the main road with grape-shot and bullets flying over him. Very soon he was in sight of the enemy, when luckily the carriages, except one, had time to turn into a covered way. The last carriage was smashed by a cannon-ball.
On through the covered way then went the General with his "six-shooter" in his hand towards St. Angelo. When he arrived his men gave a shout. His presence now as ever was their best stimulant.
The enemy had a column in the rear on the hills to the left. But some skirmishers were thrown out on the heights above them. Then on came thundering the Neapolitan cavalry; but this time they met no cravens. The fierce Calabrese emptied their saddles, bayonetted them, and in one of two instances slew them with their stilettoes. And yet, glorious as it is to see brave men in a good cause dying for freedom with Spartan fortitude, it seemed to me something like a desecration of carnage and slaughter. What struck me at the time more than anything else, was the stern, silent determination with which every man fought. This time there were no rallying cries, no encouraging shouts--not a word--but grim, deadly conflict. Foeman standing before foemen with bent brows and compressed lips in stern hate, asking no quarter and giving none.
Then a red cloud came before my eyes, and I seemed to feel no more, save that I was one in a melee, shooting away, or bayonetting, or using a revolver as opportunity offered. And the calm sun all this while, and the green olive trees looked down on us at our work of death, as so many stern and silent foemen drove their reeking bayonets into the hearts of their adversaries, and riflemen sent their deadly bullets crashing through some hussar's brain. Then were steeds screaming harshly in their agony, and running riderless among us. Then were seen fierce death-struggles in several places, Calabrese locked in conflict with Neapolitians till the pistol or the dragger settled the matter. There were not really...more than 3,000 men there of ours that day. The Neapolitians had actually three times that number.
Our main object was to take care of the main road to Santa Maria and the pontoons, etc., prepared towards the river. Bloody work it was for all. We had to push our line of defense further than the actual main road itself, and come down well into the open. As for defensive works, we there had none, save a barricade of sandbags with four guns on the road leading from Capua to St. Angelo. All day long there was terrific fighting going on for possession of the barricade. I saw John Egerton that day doing his duty like an Englishman who is in earnest. What better description can I give than that to Englishmen? I saw Garibaldi, with his red shirt wringing wet with perspiration, his eye sternly gleaming, his face flushed with the hat of conflict, and blackened by the smoke and dust. I heard his voice commanding--but it was no longer now the calm, clear voice of quieter times. It was hoarse and guttural, and choked with emotion. For the good general saw his gallant band unfalteringly pouring out their life-blood.
