ergeant,"
which meant that she would receive a sergeant's pay and rations, but as
the gallant General was killed two days later at Chantilly, Annie never
received the appointment. But she continued her care of the sick and
wounded in the same quiet manner which characterised all her actions.
When she was not busy on the field or in hospital or transport duty she
superintended the cooking at headquarters, and when the brigade moved,
she would mount her horse, and march with the ambulance and the
surgeons, ready to serve where she was most needed, or if on the
battle-field when night fell she wrapped herself in her soldier's
blanket and slept under the protecting sky with the hardihood of a true
soldier.

At Chancellorsville, on the 2nd of May, 1863, the men of the Third Corps
were in extreme danger because of a panic by which the Eleventh Corps
was broken up; and one company of the Third Michigan and also one of the
sharp-shooters were detailed as skirmishers. Annie was advised of her
danger in remaining with the regiment, but refused to go to the rear,
and instead took the lead, but met her Colonel and he peremptorily
commanded her to go back, saying the enemy was very near, and he was
every moment expecting an attack. Reluctant to obey, Annie turned and
rode along the front of a line of shallow trenches filled with Union
men. Then rising in her saddle she called out, "Boys, do your duty and
whip the rebels!"

The men's heads rose above the edge of the trench and they cheered her,
crying, "Hurrah for Annie! Bully for you!" which shout unfortunately
showed their position to the enemy, who at once fired a volley of shots
in the direction of the cheering. Annie rode to the end of the rear of
the line, then turned to look back, and as she did so, an officer
quickly pushed his horse between her and a large tree by which she was
standing, so that he might be sheltered behind her. She was staring at
him in astonishment at such an unchivalrous act, when a second volley
was fired; a ball whizzed past her, and the officer fell heavily against
her, then lifeless to the ground. At the same moment another ball grazed
Annie's hand (this was the only wound she received during the whole
war), cut through her dress, and slightly wounded her horse, who was so
frenzied by the pain that he set off on a run through the woods,
plunging in and out among the trees so rapidly that Annie was afraid of
being brushed from her saddle by the branc