re along the line most of
the time. For any one who has not been in a real hard campaign, it is
impossible to imagine what life is like there--especially nights. If near
the enemy thus being unable to have any fire with which to cook a cup of
coffee, having nothing to drink but cold water and nothing to eat but
hardtack with perhaps a slice of salt pork. A roar of musket fire along
the picket line giving one a start and waking him up, stragglers tumbling
over you or waking you up to inquire for their regiments, sleeping on the
ground perhaps in a rain-storm are all in the regular order of experience.
On the 30th of May we reached Cold Harbor, we were advanced into a
position near Shady Grove and told to throw up some earthworks. The
pickets seemed only a few steps in front of us and were firing away like
mad; the bullets coming over where we were altogether too thick for
comfort. May 31. We stayed in that position all day and that night I was
detailed on picket. About midnight I went on duty, we went down across a
large field and clear down on the farther side, relieved the pickets in
little holes they had dug to conceal themselves in. There were spades
there and before daylight we had increased the size of the holes so they
were fair-sized rifle pits. When that line was established it was done
just about as badly as it could be. It was placed clear on the farther
edge of a large field about four or six rods from the edge of the wood,
the Johnnies' line of pickets being in the edge of the wood. About ten
o'clock the officer of the day appeared about thirty or forty rods to the
rear and signaled for me to go back and get orders. I was acting sergeant
at the time and had command of the pickets of that part of the line. I
went back to him, got my orders and returned to my post again. That was
the most perilous duty that fell to me to perform all alone during my
whole service. As I went back I was a single mark for from a dozen to
fifteen Rebs for a run of fifteen rods, and on my return just the same
again, and that time I was running directly toward them.

It was a common thing in those days to hear the bullets zip past one, but
a thing occurred then that was new to me. It was a plowed field I was
crossing and as the bullets struck the ground they would kick up a little
dust. I remember distinctly seeing those miniature clouds of dust three or
four times on those runs.

As near as I can judge I was fired at about twelve or