on the sloping ground behind
was exposed. We had gone down to the works, waiting for the rebels to
get through with their fun, which we regarded as comparatively harmless.
We could see the flash of the gun, and by the time the shell would
arrive, we would be safely sheltered behind the pit. One of these,
however, struck the pit a few feet to my left. We waited a few seconds,
expecting to hear it explode. Thinking the fuse had been extinguished,
the men had risen up again and were indulging in jocular remarks over
the matter, when, to our astonishment, the shell exploded in the air
about ten feet high and nearly over the works, not far from where it
struck. Where it had been during the intervening seconds we could not
imagine. Fortunately no one was injured.

At this time, one of the men, who had not yet had supper, became
impatient and started out for water. Just as he reached the well a shell
came bounding over and struck him. A single exclamation of pain
announced the result. Some of the men were at his side in a moment. A
stretcher was procured, and he was carried back to the ambulance stand,
to be taken to the hospital. The shell struck him about midway between
the knee and ankle, leaving the fragment dangling by a few shreds.

While engaged in constructing Fort Warren we alternated in work with a
regiment of colored troops. They were fine, soldierly fellows, and stood
the shelling quite as well as any green troops.

At the entrance of the inclosure, of course, there was no ditch, a space
being left about twelve feet wide. Passing along, one day, I saw a young
colored soldier standing on this narrow passage between the ditches,
curiously examining a twelve-pound shell which had been thrown over, and
had failed to explode. Addressing him and taking the shell in my hands,
I proceeded to give him a scientific explanation of how the thing
worked. After expatiating at considerable length and in glowing language
on the prodigious effects of such projectiles, I then unfolded to him
the manner in which this particular sample might be exploded.

"Do you see that thing?" pointing to the fuse.

"Yes, sah, I sees him," replied the dusky warrior.

"Well, now, if I spit on that--the thing will go off. See here--_yeep!_
_yeep!_" as I spat on it and hurled it into the ditch. With a yell and a
screech a Comanche might have been proud of, that darkey "lit out." As
he ran he turned his head, and seeing me dancing a war-dance to