Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1892-01-21
WAR "REMINISCENCES.
HIT AT ANTlETAM.
Strange Sensations of Soldier Wounded
in Battle.

in Battle.
Hooker was trying to drive Jackson
at Antietam. 1t is one of the mysteries
of war that he did not annihilate him
and then take Lee in flank. We out
numbered him. and we extended our
lines until only skirmish line of gray
opposed us, but on no field of battle in
the whole war did the confederates
fight so fercely. 1t seemed as if every
single company had been told to hold
its ground until the last man was wiped
out. We breasted up to the gray lines
time after time, but they would not
give back. They faced us and died If
they lost rod of ground they charged
back and recovered two
1 remember how the corn waved and
rustled as we pushed through it that
day-how the silken tassel became de-
tached and foated into our faces like
spider-webs on a dewy summers morn
ing. They were waiting for us-the
men who had come up from Harper's
Ferry without a halt-foot-sore, hun
CRY, thirsty. but ready to die to save
Lees left wing. They made never a
halt to moisten their parched threats
at the wells of harpsburg-never a
halt for the laggards to come up. Lee
was in danger, and old Stonewall rode
at their head. The politicians simply
slur them. Those who breasted up
against them on the battlefield remem-
Der only how gallantly they died.
At first scattering fre-a man fall
ing out here and there. The pop! pop!
pop! increases in rapidity-now it be-
come a continuous roar-here comes
the command to charged There is a
cheer-a rush, and we are checked
Men can not dodge bullets, but we
dodge as they zip and spit and whistle
by our ears. A storm of bullets can
not be breasted like a gale of wind
laden with snowfiakes, but we bend our
heads and advance.
What is it? Why am l lying on the
ground? Is the fight over that the din
of battle has so nearly died away?
wonder and wonder. 1t is like waking
out of a sound slumber. Now / know
what it is-I'm hit! A bullet has
crashed into my shoulder, spun me
around like top, and then dashed me
to the earth in a heap Men struck
that way lose consciousness for min
ute or two. The roar swells out again
= hear men cursing and cheering, and
| finally understand that our lines have
been driven back. l lift my head for a
hasty look around. and l find / have
lots of company. The dead and wound
ed are as numerous as corn-hills.
A ht,lla4 -, q, =
A pint or two of blood lost from the
body is of no account l turn over,
seize dead man by the arm, and pull
myself up, but everything dances be-
fore my eyes and | sink down in a
heap. 1t isn't the wound itself. but the
shock to the nervous system. I've seen
a six-footer drop in heap and cry like
a woman because bullet had made
one of his fingers an inch shorter, and
he was never charged with being a
coward, either.
There is no such thing as time on a
battlefield. A general may watch its
fight but private soldier has no
thought of it The sun may have been
Vt meridian when the battle opened
All of sudden he is amazed that the
orb has gone from sight. He has
fought on, giving no heed to time.
Only half conscious-only half realiz-
ing that was hit by and by felt the
cool breezes of the evening and lost the
glare of the sun. Some one gave me
water, but felt too dreamy to open my
eyes. Some one pulled dead man off
my legs-a wounded comrade who had
crept over to me in search of water and
died. But did not open my eyes; l
could not Itseemed as if great weights
had been placed on my eyelids to keep
them shut There was a babel of
sounds around me, but heard only one
voice. That sounded miles away as it
said:
Now, then, you all be mighty keer-
full how you tote that boy, fur he's bin
powerfully hit. Needn't mind me so
much, though l reckon I'm good for a
wooden leg if you Yanks kin spar the
timber p
1t was rebel" He'd been caring
for me for hours as tenderly as he would
for his own son, and yet they separated
us that night never to meet again. l
have never had an opportunity to look
into his face and thank him. | never
even saw him. M. Quad, in N. Y
World.