d bushes, and which,
when mentioned in the general histories at all, is disposed of in a
paragraph of about four lines. But a soldier in time of war has no
control over his fate, and no option in the selection of the time when,
nor the place where, it may be his lot to "stack arms" forever.

I will now resume the account of what occurred after we reached the
blockhouse. It will be brief. We formed in line with the reinforcements
that had come from Murfreesboro, and advanced toward the train. We
encountered no opposition; the enemy had set fire to the cars, and then
had hastily and entirely disappeared.

I have recently discovered in a modern edition of the Reports of the
Adjutant-General of Illinois, (the date on the title page being 1901,)
that in the revised sketch of our regiment a recital has crept in
stating that in our subsequent advance we "recaptured the train in time
to prevent its destruction." How that statement got into the sketch I
do not know, and I am sorry to be under the necessity of saying that it
is not true. When we got back to the scene of the fight the train was a
mass of roaring flame, the resulting consequence being that every car
was finally consumed. No matter how much it may hurt, it is always best
to be fair, and tell the truth.

[Illustration: J. B. Nulton
Major, 61st Illinois Infantry (later Colonel).]

In the course of the day our troops all returned to Murfreesboro. Maj.
Nulton, who was now our regimental commander, gave us of the 61st
permission to march back "at will." That is, we could start when we got
ready, singly or in squads, and not in regimental formation. So Bill
Banfield and I started out to get something to eat, as we were very
hungry. Since leaving Stevenson on the morning of the 14th, we had had
no opportunity to cook anything, and had eaten nothing but some
hardtack and raw bacon. Then that night we had left our haversacks on
top of the cars when we got off the train to skirmish with the enemy,
and never saw them again. And this was a special grievance for Bill and
me. We each had a little money, and on the morning we left Stevenson
had gone to a sutler's, and made some purchases to insure us an extra
good meal when we got back to Murfreesboro. I bought a little can of
condensed milk, (having always had a weakness for milk in coffee,)
while Bill, with a kind of queer taste, invested in a can of lobsters.
One time that night, while sitting on the ground,