FIRST ACTIONS OF WOUNDED SOLDIERS. 159 



be sent home to disband, and with others I speculated not a little 

 on the chances of escape in the impending fight. There had been 

 times in my career as a soldier when I was "too anxious for 

 wounds and scars/' as General Grant once remarked of Ned 

 Buntline, and even at the eleventh hour, with the prospect, as I 

 believed, of a speedy return home, I consoled myself with the 

 thought that if wounded I would carry a glorious badge on the 

 homeward march. But I went into action that day, convinced on 

 the whole, that the fellows across the line would not pay special 

 attention to me, for I held that I was an indifferent mark for 

 good ammunition a lad of seventeen years, small inches, and 

 light weight. 



It turned out that our position, though supposed to be well 

 sheltered, was closely inspected by a number of Confederate sharp- 

 shooters, but, as it was very important that we remain at that 

 point, we had to make the best of it. I was near the head of the 

 line of the regiment, and, as we lay strung along on the slope of 

 the ridge, I could see every man in the command. One after an- 

 other the sharpshooters' bullets began to tell. I noticed a lieu- 

 tenant in one of the companies moving about on some official 

 errand and making a splendid target, and, while I was thinking 

 how cool he was, something struck him and twisted his body 

 around so that I detected the break in his locomotion. He did not 

 halt, but went on calmly and freely for some paces, and in a few 

 minutes, having delivered some orders and exchanged words with 

 some of his men, he went to the rear with a decided limp. Be- 

 tween the moment of his wounding and the accomplishment of his 

 purpose he did not limp at all, and probably did not know that he 

 was hit (it was a flesh-wound in the thigh) until told of it. Then, 

 when he knew what had happened, he yielded to new mental pro- 

 cesses and acted as wounded men are supposed to do. When the 

 lieutenant had disappeared from view, I turned my face to the 

 front, bolstering my trembling hopes with the thought that this 

 last victim was a shining mark, as I certainly was not. Besides, 

 I believed that the sharpshooters could not get the range on our 

 end of the line. Then followed a " thud " close to me, and my 

 next sensation was that I was prostrate on the ground, pierced 

 through my left arm, heart, and spine with a rod, and pinned to 

 the earth. This was the physical sensation, but, of course, was 

 not the fact. Then through my brain there flitted quickly a vision 

 such as the thought of a battle most commonly brings to mind 

 masses of warring men struggling individually for the mastery. 

 I seemed to be in the midst of the melee, and with all the indigna- 

 tion I could express was shouting to the men in gray, " There, 

 you have hit me ! " Next I was being lifted and supported by 

 some one, and a voice said, " He isn't hit, but something is the 



