ore. We had come upon the field
hospital of Hill, where he had his wounded of the day before encamped.
Here we first heard of the fight in which so many brave men had
fallen, without any decided results. As we had friends and relatives
in A.P. Hill's corps, all began to make inquiries for Gregg's old
brigade. We heard with delight and animation of the grand conduct
of the banner brigade of South Carolina, "Gregg's" or McGowan's,
and listened with no little pride to the report of their desperate
struggle through the streets of Gettysburg, and to learn that the flag
in the hands of a member of a Palmetto regiment first waved over the
city. I heard here of the desperate wounding of an old friend and
school-mate, Lieutenant W.L. Leitsey, and left the ranks long enough
to hunt him up in one of the many tents to the left. I found him
severely wounded, so much so that I never met him afterwards. While
marching along at a "snail's gait" among the wagons and artillery
trains, with a long row of tents to the left, tired and worn out and
so dark that you could not distinguish objects a few feet distant, a
lone man was standing by the road side viewing, as well as he could in
the dark, the passing troops. The slowness of our march enabled me to
have a few words of conversation with him. At its end, and just as I
was passing him, I heard, or thought I heard him say, "I have a drink
in here," pointing to a tent, "if you feel like it." Reader, you may
have heard of angel's voices in times of great distress, but if ever
an angel spoke, it was at that particular moment, and to me. I was so
tired, sleepy and worn out I could scarcely stand, and a drink would
certainly be invigorating, but for fear I had not heard or understood
him clearly I had him to repeat it. In fact, so timely was it that I
felt as if I could have listened all night, so much like the voice
of a syren was it at that moment. I said "Yes! Yes!!" But just then
I thought of my friend and companion, my next Color Captain, John
W. Watts, who was just ahead of me and marching under the same
difficulties as myself. I told the man I had a friend in front who
wanted a drink worse than I did. He answered "there is enough for
two," and we went in. It was Egyptian darkness, but we found a jug and
tin cup on the table, and helped ourselves. It may have been that in
the darkness we helped ourselves too bountifully, for that morning
Watts found himself in an ambulance going to the rea