de it seemed I
encountered more bullets and shells. Soldiers were shouting and running in
every direction, artillery was galloping here and there, on every side it
seemed they were fighting for dear life. On one side of me I saw horses
and men fall and pile up on top of each other. Cannon and caissons with
broken wheels were turned upside down, riderless horses were scampering
here and there, officers were riding and running in all directions, the
shells were whizzing through the air, and soldiers shouting at the top of
their voices. Everything seemed upside down. I thought the world had come
to an end. I tried to find shelter behind a tree, away from the bullets,
but as soon as I found shelter on one side it seemed as though the bullets
and shells came from all sides, and I lay down in utter despair and
fright. I don't know how long I was there, but when I awoke I thought the
war was over, it was so still. I thought every one had been killed on both
sides, excepting myself. I was just thinking I would try and find a live
horse, ride back to Washington and tell them that the war was over,
everybody was killed, when my brother tapped me on the shoulder and asked
me where I had been. He had gone through it all, escaped with the loss of
one toe, and had come to the rear to have it dressed and find me.

[Illustration: _Desperate Charge of Confederates to Capture a Union
Battery._]

The next morning I was sent with the "Stretcher Corps" under a flag of
truce to the battle field to help take the wounded to the rear and bury
the dead, and when we reached the scene, how well could I imagine what the
awful struggle had been. The worst of the great conflict had occurred in
an orchard, and there the sight was most appalling; dead and dying heroes
were lying about as thick as a slumbering camp would be, sleeping with
their guns for pillows the night before a battle; to many of those poor
fellows it was that sleep that knows no waking, while to others it was the
awaking from unconsciousness by the twinges of a mortal gaping wound,
awake just long enough to get a glimpse of the Gates Ajar, sink back and
start on that journey from which no traveler returns.

Blue and the gray were mingled together on this awful field of slaughter,
and both sides seemed to respect the solemnity by a cessation of
hostilities, and the hushed silence was only broken by the painful cry of
some helpless wounded, or dying groans of others. The little wh