oticed that he had braced up with commissary,
and his legs were not wholly reliable, but I thought he could manage me
as a pack. So he squatted, and the sergeant helped get me on his back
with my arm around his neck. Then he attempted to raise me up, but my
weight and the tanglefoot were too much, and we all went down in a heap
together, I under. As soon as I could express myself in words, I told
the men, if they would straighten me out and cover me up with my
blanket, I would excuse them with thanks for their kind intentions. This
they did, and left me with no one in sight. It now grew dark rapidly and
soon there was as little light as at any time that night. I was wide
awake, and my thoughts went on excursions the wide world around.

I think it must have been about midnight--for hours I had heard no sound
but the groanings of the men lying on the field about me. All at once I
heard a voice. It came from the mouth of Phil Comfort, a private of Co.
A. Phil had always been one of the incorrigibles. He would get drunk,
and brawl, and fight on the slightest provocation, but he also had the
credit of doing much for the wounded of the regiment. I do not know what
Phil's business was, out there between the picket lines at midnight of
that day. I suspect he may have been there for the purpose of
accommodating any corpse that was desirous of being relieved of any
valuables he was possessed of, fearing they might be buried in an
unmarked grave with his dead body. I never asked Phil about the orders,
or from whom they came, that sent him into hailing distance of my place
of repose, but I made haste to call Phil up to me. He responded to my
call, and in a moment was staring down on me in the starlight. He said,
"Why, Lieutenant that's you, aint it!" I admitted the allegation, and
said I wanted to get out of here. He replied that he would go for a man
and stretcher, and return as soon as possible, and off he went. Before
long he was back with man and stretcher, and after much working they got
me loaded and started for a point at which the ambulances were
assembling. I was set down in the dooryard of a house built of hewed
logs, whitewashed. In 1866 I visited the battlefield and this house was
standing. I think it has since been removed and a frame house put up on
its site.

After an hour's waiting, I was loaded into an ambulance without taking
me from my stretcher. This was fortunate for me, as I kept it until it
was swapped for a