a soldier
in time of war. The idea of staying at home and turning over senseless
clods on the farm with the cannon thundering so close at hand that the
old men said that when the wind was from the south they sometimes
smelled the powder!--was simply intolerable.

Remember all the time, as you read these recollections of an old man,
that I am trying to give you merely some conception of the thoughts,
feelings, hopes, and ambitions of one who, at the time of which I am now
speaking, was only an eighteen year old boy.

In the meantime, I went on helping my father do the fall work on the
farm. In due time the wheat was sowed, the corn gathered, and a huge
stack of firewood for winter cut and brought in, and piled near the
dwelling-house. By this time the holiday season was approaching, which I
wanted to spend at home, thinking, maybe, it might be the last. And the
regiment was doing nothing but recruit, and drill at Camp Carrollton,
and, as I looked at it, there was no special need to hurry. But
Christmas and New Year's Day soon came, and went, and one evening I told
my parents I intended to go to Carrollton the next day, and "maybe"
would come back a soldier. Early next morning, which was Monday, January
6, 1862, I saddled and bridled Bill, the little black mule, and struck
out. Carrollton was about twenty miles from our home, almost due north,
and the road ran mainly through big woods, with an occasional farm on
either side of the road. It is likely those woods are all gone now. I
reached the camp about the middle of the afternoon, went to the quarters
of Reddish's company, found Enoch Wallace, and told him I had come to
enlist. He took me to Capt. Reddish, gave me a short introduction to
him, and told him my business. The old Captain gave me a hearty
greeting, and was so plain, kind and natural in his manner and talk,
that I took a liking to him at once. He told me that the first step
necessary was to be examined by the regimental surgeon as to my physical
fitness, so we at once went to the surgeon's tent. I had previously
heard all sorts of stories as to the thoroughness of this examination,
that sometimes the prospective recruits had to strip, stark naked, and
jump about, in order to show that their limbs were perfect. But I was
agreeably disappointed in that regard. The surgeon, at that time, was a
fat, jolly old doctor by the name of Leonidas Clemmons. I was about
scared to death when the Captain presented me to hi