for any length of time.

As the Rebs went back, a nice looking young fellow, small of stature,
with bright black eyes, whose face was smutted up with powder and smoke,
came along where I lay. My sword was on the ground beside me. He picked
it up, and said, "Give me that scabbard!" I said "Johnny, you will have
to excuse me, as my arm is broken and I can't unbuckle my belt." He made
no comment, but went off with my sword. Then matters quieted down, and
there was no sound to be heard in that vicinity, except the groanings of
the wounded. As long as I lay perfectly quiet, I was not in much pain,
but if I attempted to stir the pain was severe. I had heard that wounded
men always suffered from thirst, but I was not specially thirsty, and I
wondered at it. I did not have any desire to groan, and take on, as many
about me were doing. So I wondered if I were really badly hurt, and if I
could groan, if I wanted to. I determined to try it, and drew in a good
breath, and let out a full grown-man groan. I was satisfied with the
result and then kept quiet. This action on my part will read like the
performance of a simpleton, and I would not record it, but for the fact
that it was the freak and experience of one man, helpless on the
battlefield. These personal experiences are, of course, less often
written about than are the general movements of troops in battle
accounts.

After a time I was satisfied our people were establishing a picket line
some ways to my rear. I succeeded in securing the attention of a
sergeant. He told me the number of his regiment, which was a new
Pennsylvania regiment. I told him I wanted to get back out of this
debatable belt of land between the skirmish lines. He said he would go
and see his officer. In a little while he came back with a Lieutenant.
He was a good hearted man, and commiserated my condition, and inquired
what he could do for me. I told him my present anxiety was to get to the
rear of our skirmish line--that where I then lay was likely to be fought
over again, and any little thing would, at least, set the pickets firing
at one another. I told him I thought if he and the sergeant would make a
chair of their hands, as children often do, they could carry me between
them. With difficulty they got me up, and their hands under me, and
started, but the broken leg hung down, and caught in the trampled wheat,
and I told them I couldn't go it. Then the Lieutenant said he could
carry me on his back. I n