then I hailed an ambulance,
and we took him to the held hospital about a mile to the rear.

On the way the poor fellow regained consciousness, and looking at his
mutilated wrists, and then with a quick and bewildered glance at me,
"G--d--d tough, ain't it," then the tears started in his eyes, and he
broke down and sobbed the rest of the way, "Oh, my God! What will my poor
mother say? Oh, what will she do!"

We reached the field hospital, which is only a temporary place for the
wounded where the wounds are hurriedly dressed, and then they are sent to
regular hospitals, located in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Norfolk,
Portsmouth, etc., where they have all the comforts possible.

We laid the little fellow down in one corner of the tent to wait his turn
with the surgeon, and when I left him, he cried and begged for me to stay,
but I couldn't stand his suffering longer, so I bade him good-bye with
tears streaming down my own cheeks. I hurried out, and even after I
reached the outside I could hear him cry, "Oh, my God! What will my poor
mother say? Oh, what will she do!"

In the afternoon I was detailed to wait on the amputating tables at the
field hospital.

It was a horrible task at first. My duty was to hold the sponge or "cone"
of ether to the face of the soldier who was to be operated on, and to
stand there and see the surgeons cut and saw legs and arms as if they were
cutting up swine or sheep, was an ordeal I never wish to go through again.
At intervals, when the pile became large, I was obliged to take a load of
legs or arms and place them in a trench near by for burial. I could only
stand this one day, and after that I shirked all guard duty. The monotony,
the routine of life, in front of Petersburg, was becoming distasteful to
me. I had stolen everything I could. My district or territory had given
out, so the next day I started for the front to bid my brother good-bye.

Our regiment was sometimes relieved and ordered to the rear for rest; so
it was on this occasion, they had fallen back and halted in a little
ravine. I met my brother, who always expected me to bring him some stolen
sweets or goodies of some kind, but unfortunately this time I came
empty-handed. I had failed to find anything to steal. I was hungry myself,
but when I looked at him I forgot my own hunger, for such a forlorn
appearance as he presented almost broke my heart, and I determined to find
him something to eat at all hazards. So off I started