ood
still. Who would answer? And what would he say? To my astonishment and
dismay one of our men piped out, "Sixty-first New York." Then came the
blustering reply, "Lay down your arms, or I'll blow you all to hell."
Instantly we were on our feet, and by the time the orator in the woods
had finished speaking his little piece our men had poured in a volley
before they were ready for us. This must have seriously damaged them,
for their return volley was lighter than I expected. There was nothing
for us to do however, but to fall back a few rods, loading and firing.
We soon halted however, and settled down to the grim game of give and
take in the growing darkness. The flashes of their muskets were all that
our men had to guide their aim. It was dismal business. Our line grew
thinner, and I noticed that my company was melting away before me.
Anxious to hurt somebody I drew my revolver and emptied one barrel into
the woods, but then considered that I might want the rest for closer
work before we got through, and put it up again. Soon I felt a smarting
pain in my left knee and sat down a few paces apart to see what made it.
Finding it only a buckshot I hastened back to my company, but it took
that buckshot wound six weeks to heal. It seems to me now as if I had
not been back with my company more than a minute when crash came a blow
on my right leg, just above the knee, like the blow of a huge club.
There was no mistaking that. I dropped because I had to, and I lay flat
on my back so as to avoid other bullets, and waited for further
developments. Those were solemn moments for me, and yet not so terrible
as one might suppose. They were not at all dreadful. I was just waiting
to see if I was going to die from loss of blood, not knowing but an
artery was severed. I distinctly remember thinking that I would hardly
turn my hand over for the choice, whether to rise presently to a new
heavenly home, or to struggle back through unknown sufferings to my old
earthly home. But after a few moments the instinctive desire to live in
the body prevailed. I saw that I was not going to bleed to death, so I
called a couple of men to carry me back to the road away from the firing
line. In doing this, one of them put his arms under my knees, and the
pain in the wound soon became so frightful that I begged them to lay me
down and let me die. They carried me to the road however, a short
distance, and there left me.

"So there I lay on my back, lookin