Colonel Miller, who had been a near neighbor and associate of mine long before the war broke out, received a severe wound in the chest by a minnie ball, at the Battle of the Wilderness, and was reported dead and was mourned as such by his family for a long time, but was rescued from the flames that broke out, after the battle, and taken a prisoner to Salisbury, and placed in the hospital there, whence he was removed when convalescent, to Macon. He soon found the Adjutant of his regiment, Lieutenant H. H. Lyman, who gave him a place in his quarters, and they afterwards remained together.
On the 23d of May, Lieutenant Wood, 82nd Indiana, died in the hospital, just outside the stockade, and was buried the next day at 1.30 p. m. Chaplain White being allowed to hold the funeral service, a number of us offered to give our parole to attend the funeral, but our request was denied. On the same day one hundred and eleven fresh fish were brought in, among whom were Brigadier Generals Seymour and Schaler. That night about ten o’clock a tremendous storm came up, which drowned out all who had not built themselves sheds, and the main building, where were quartered the general officers, etc., was crowded with those driven from their quarters by the drenching rain. This main building as it was called, was a large hall, that had been built for the display of goods during the fair, which had heretofore been held on these grounds, and was the only building in the stockade that was clapboarded and shingled, and with the exception of an old tumble down affair on the opposite side, east, was the only building in the enclosure when we took possession.
Having built myself a shelter on the first day I entered the stockade, I was all right; but those who had burrowed for shelter were driven out like rats from a flooded cellar, and were obliged to seek shelter in the large hall from the pitiless storm. There was not room for all, and those who could not crowd in there had to rough it out as best they could. On the 25th of May, I first met Adjutant H. H. Lyman, of the 147th New York, from whom I learned that Col. Miller was wounded and a prisoner.
About this time, they brought us in lumber, pine poles and nails, to build ourselves some sheds, and all went to work on the construction. I belonged to No. 9 squad, and on the 27th of May, our lumber and other materials were furnished, and we all went to work, and by night had our shed so nearly completed that we moved in, though it took us several days to get our bunks finished and everything comfortably arranged. It was amusing to see a squad of ninety men go to work to erect one of these sheds.
Out of the ninety, about thirty would do the work, and the rest would stand around and make suggestions. Among so many who should be equally interested, it was astonishing how many bosses there would be, who could tell how it ought to be done, but seemed indisposed to do it. Nothing was done to suit these Superintendents, but when their grumblings became too loud and boisterous, some one who was tugging away at the big end of one of these fifty feet pine poles, would rest it on his knees long enough to shout “Louder, old pudden head.” This was a favorite epithet, used to quiet any one in camp who got too excited or eloquent on any subject, and I remember one Tennessee officer, Captain Hayes, who so objected to it that he was ready to fight any one who called him “old pudden head”—and I have seen him furiously searching for the man who had yelled this, while he was loudly proclaiming his sentiments on some subject, but it only caused him to be annoyed the more, for when it was seen how sensitive he was on this point, there were plenty to be found to thus pester him, while they dexterously avoided the blows, aimed at their heads with a stick he hurled after them. He was a large, powerful man, with a voice that could be heard from one end of the camp to the other, very excitable when talking, and could never understand a joke, but took everything in earnest, and nothing afforded the boys more pleasure than to get him boiling mad.
CHAPTER X.
manner of tunnelling.