tearing four or five others to shreds. As a wounded horse was being led off, a cannon ball struck him, and he was literally ripped open, falling in the very place I had just moved from.
I saw an ambulance coming from toward the Yankee line, at full gallop, saw them stop at a certain place, hastily put a dead man in the ambulance, and gallop back toward the Yankee lines. I did not know the meaning of this maneuver until after the battle, when I learned that it was General McPherson's dead body.
We had lost many a good and noble soldier. The casualties on our side were frightful. Generals, Colonels, Captains, Lieutenants, Sergeants, Corporals and privates were piled indiscriminately everywhere. Cannon, caissons, and dead horses were piled pell-mell. It was the picture of a real battle-field. Blood had gathered in pools, and in some instances had made streams of blood. 'Twas a picture of carnage and death.
AM PROMOTED.
"Why, hello, Corporal, where did you get those two yellow stripes from on your arm?"
"Why, sir, I have been promoted for gallantry on the battle-field, by picking up an orphan flag, that had been run over by a thousand fellows, and when I picked it up I did so because I thought it was pretty, and I wanted to have me a shirt made out of it."
"I could have picked up forty, had I known that," said Sloan.
"So could I, but I knew that the stragglers would pick them up."
Reader mine, the above dialogue is true in every particular. As long as I was in action, fighting for my country, there was no chance for promotion, but as soon as I fell out of ranks and picked up a forsaken and deserted flag, I was promoted for it. I felt "sorter" cheap when complimented for gallantry, and the high honor of Fourth Corporal was
