Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 07.djvu/184

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176
Southern Historical Society Papers.

they bore my orders to every portion of the field met my hearty approbation. Lieutenant S. Wilmer, my signal officer, had been previously wounded, during the skirmishing in front of Maryland Heights, bearing under severe fire an order from me. Major Moore, my inspector, rendered efficient service in his department. My senior surgeon, Dr. J. H. Stevens, labored assiduously during the afternoon and night in caring for the many wounded.

I am, Major, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. B. Gordon, Major-General.

Detailed Minutiæ of Soldier Life.

By Private Carlton McCarthy.

Paper No. 6—"Brave Survivors" Homeward Bound.

[This is the last of a series of papers which have been widely read and complimented for their vivid pictures of the life of the private soldier.]

Bitter grief for the past, which seemed to be forever lost, and present humiliation could not long suppress the anxious thought and question, "What now?" The discussion of the question brought relief from the horrid feeling of vacuity, which oppressed the soldier, and introduced him to the new sensations of liberty of choice, freedom of action—full responsibility. For capital he had a clear conscience, a brave heart, health, strength, and a good record. With these he sought his home.

Early in the morning of Wednesday the 12th of April, without the stirring drum or the bugle call of old, the camp awoke to the new life. Whether or not they had a country these soldiers did not know. Home to many, when they reached it, was graves and ashes. At any rate there must be, somewhere on earth, a better place than a muddy, smoky camp in a piece of scrubby pines—better company than gloomy, hungry comrades and inquisitive enemies, and something in the future more exciting, if not more hopeful, than nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep, nothing to do and nowhere to go. The disposition to start was apparent, and the preparations were promptly begun.

To roll up the old blanket and oilcloth, gather up the haversack, canteen, axe, perhaps, and a few trifles, in time of peace of no value,