nd about him were our killed and
wounded, among others, General Morton, General Burnside's chief
engineer. I turned back to see if Randall was alive, and found him lying
with his face buried in the dirt of a corn-hill, the field being a
succession of ridges, and the corn being about eighteen inches high. He
had a hole in his neck and was apparently dying. I brushed the dirt out
of his face so that he could breathe, propped him up on the dirt ridges,
but was unable to carry him into our lines, because I had been suffering
for some days from intermittent fever and was almost too weak to walk
when I went into the engagement. While thus stooping over and in the act
of starting for our lines, a ball struck me alongside of the spine, just
above my sabre belt, and, as afterwards turned out, ploughed up in the
neighborhood of my shoulders. Realizing that I was struck in a bad place
and not wishing to lie there in the sun during the afternoon, I started
for our breastworks, the bullets striking the ground around me as I
crawled. I asked a man who I believed belonged to the Eighteenth Corps
if he could pull me over, as I was unable to get over. He remarked, "I
will, if my partner will help me," and in a moment these two men jumped
upon the breastwork, took me by the collar of my cavalry jacket, jerked
me over, and dropped me inside. It had not occurred to me that I was in
plain sight of the enemy, and it was not until after I was lifting
Randall that I noticed the bullets were striking in the ground around me
and subsequently in the breastworks, as I lay outside of them, when I
asked the man to help me over.

Just after I was pulled over, General Walter C. Newberry, then the
lieutenant-colonel of the Twenty-fourth cavalry, who that day commanded
the regiment, came up to me. I showed him my wound and remarked that I
thought I had a "thirty-day wound." He sent two men who lifted me on my
feet, and, with my arm about their necks and their arms supporting my
body, I walked a considerable distance before I could reach an
ambulance, which took me to the field hospital. On my way to the field
hospital I noticed a corporal, Frederick Gundlach, a brave and honest
soldier, who was walking holding his hand, which seemed to be shattered.
I hailed him and he immediately ran along by the ambulance in which I
was, stayed by me, and waited on me during the afternoon and night.
During the night I was placed in a tent with five other seriously
wou