ct. For a time it seemed as if only the most extreme measures on our
part would prevent such insubordination as we should be unable to
control. Our duties were not only very disagreeable, but they were
performed at that season of the year when mud was for the most part of the
time nearly knee-deep, and frozen feet were no novelty.

Here, day by day, our eyes witnessed the terrible effects of war upon
human life. Men who had been wounded in battle and were recovering from
their injuries were hobbling about on canes and crutches, while wounded
arms were supported by various ingenious devices. Some had lost a leg,
some both legs, some an arm, and some both arms. Others had an eye gone,
an ear torn off, a jaw which had been crushed into fragments. The wounds
were of every conceivable sort, and in every part of the body, from the
crown of the head to the sole of the foot. They had been shot in the head,
in the face, in the neck, in the shoulders, the arms, the legs, and the
feet. They had been shot through the chest, through the lungs, through the
hips and through the thighs. While here and there, gathered in small
groups, were victims of disease contracted in camp or on the march, whose
looks plainly indicated that they realized that there was but a step
between them and death. In recalling these scenes even at this late day,
my heart sickens as those pale faces and gaunt forms again rise up before
me, and I thank God that "the cruel war is over."

An entire paper might be written of the experiences--grave and gay--at
Convalescent Camp. For the most part of the three winter months that we
were there, the time passed away very slowly, and all were anxious for a
change. Before we left, the external appearance of the camp had been
greatly improved, and the convalescents generally had become reconciled to
our presence among them, and less inclined to "run the guard" than at
first, a few object lessons as to the sure results of such doings on their
part causing them to regard "discretion as the better part of valor."
However, candor compels me to say that when we left for Suffolk, no
regrets at our departure were expressed by the convalescents, and as we
passed through the camp on our way to take the cars for Alexandria, their
taunts and jeers came near provoking an unpleasant collision, which,
however, was happily averted by the coolness and firmness of our officers.
Whatever else concerning the war an Eleventh Rhode Island man