jected to a continuous fire of skirmishers and sharpshooters,
without the ability of replying. We laid up logs for a barricade and
protected ourselves as well as we could. Several were wounded during
the afternoon, among them Captain Hall, of Company I. His was a most
singular wound. We were all lying prone upon the ground, when suddenly
he spoke rather sharply and said he had got a clip on his knee. He said
it was an insignificant flesh wound, but his leg was benumbed. He tried
to step on it, but could not bear his weight on it, and very soon it
became exceedingly painful, and his ankle swelled to double its natural
size. He was taken back to one of the hospitals, where it was found a
minie-ball had entered his leg above the knee and passed down between
the bones to the ankle, where it was removed. This practically ended the
service of one of the youngest of our captains, a brave and brilliant
young officer.

Towards night a cold, drizzling rain set in, which chilled us to our
bones. We could not have any fires, not even to make our coffee, for
fear of disclosing our position to the enemy. For four days now we had
been continuously under the terrible nervous strain incident to a battle
and practically without any rest or sleep. During this time we had no
cooked food, nothing but hardtack and raw pork and coffee but once. This
condition began to tell upon us all. I had been under the weather when
the movement began, and was ordered by our surgeon to remain behind, but
I said no, not as long as I could get around. Now I found my strength
had reached its limit, and I took that officer's advice, with the
colonel's orders, and went back to the division field hospital to get
under cover from the rain and get a night's sleep if possible.

I found a half-dozen hospital tents standing together as one hospital,
and all full to overflowing with sick and wounded men. Our brigade
surgeon, a personal friend, was in charge. He finally found a place for
me just under the edge of one of the tents, where I could keep part of
the rain off. He brought me a stiff dose of whiskey and quinine, the
universal war remedy, and I drank it and lay down, and was asleep in
less time than it takes me to write it.

About midnight the surgeon came and aroused me with the information that
the army was moving back across the river, and that all in the hospital
who could march were ordered to make their way back as best they could;
that of the others th