on the guns, while the rest of us were "roosting low," and
about two o'clock he got a bullet in the thigh, which disabled him, I
believe, for the rest of the war. It was bad judgment! The jokes on the
"Tar Heels" were only meant in fun. Nobody ever doubted the courage and
gallantry of the North Carolinians. They had proved it too often, and
were proving it every day! It did not need for Coyle to expose himself
to prove it to us, and by his mistake we lost a good soldier.

The coming of night found all quiet on the lines. In the late afternoon,
and early night, we could plainly hear the sound of,--what we took to
be,--wagon trains and artillery, over in the enemy's lines, passing off
to our right. We got therefrom the impression that the Federals were
leaving our front and that by morning they would all be gone. So we were
not surprised when a courier came with the orders from headquarters that
we should get our guns out of the works, limber up, and be ready to move
at daylight.

=Having "A Cannon Handy"=

We drew our gun from its place at the works, up the little incline we
had made for its more easy running forward, hitched its trail to the
pintle-hook of the limber, chocked the wheels, and left it there until
we should move. The men picked out the least wet spots they could find,
and lay down to sleep. Everybody was very tired, nearly worn out with
the incessant work, and marching, and watching, and fighting, of the
last seven or eight days and nights. This was the first really quiet
night we had known for a week! The quiet and the assurance that the
enemy was gone from our front, and that there was no need to bother
about them, lulled the men into deep slumber. The infantry was all
stretched out along the lines sleeping, and even the pickets out in
front were, I am sure, sound asleep.

Every soul of our cannoneers was asleep, except Sergt. Dan. McCarthy,
Beau Barnes, Jack Booker, and myself. We sat together, by the gun,
talking and smoking until midnight. Then Jack said he would go to bed,
and did. We three, McCarthy, Barnes and I, continued our conversation
for some time longer, for no special reason, except perhaps, that we
were too tired to move, and we sat there, in the dark, listening to the
rumbling of heavy wheels over in the Federal lines, and talking about
the events of the last few days, speculating about what was to come.
Then our thoughts ran on other days, and scenes, and the folks at home,
and we t