"'Tis far off;
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants."--SHAKESPEARE.
With the passage of the sharp-shooters into Virginia at Falling Waters, the campaign was at an end. The pontoon bridge was cut. We marched a mile from the river and halted; it was five o'clock. At night we received two days' rations; I ate mine at one meal.
On the 15th the division moved to Bunker Hill. I gave out. Starvation and a full meal had been too much for me. I suffered greatly, not from fatigue, but from illness. I stepped out of ranks, went fifty yards into the thicket, and lay down under a tree.
That the enemy was following was likely enough; I hardly cared. I shrank from captivity, but I thought of death without fearing it.
My mind was in a peculiar attitude toward the war. We had heard of the surrender of Vicksburg. Not even the shadow of demoralization had touched Lee's army in consequence of Gettysburg; but now men talked despairingly--with Vicksburg gone the war seemed hopeless.
Under the tree was peace. Company H had gone on. Company A had gone on. What interest had they in me or I in them? I had fever.
The sounds of the troops marching on the road reached me in the thicket. A few moments ago I was marching on the road. I was one of fifty thousand; they have gone on.
Here, under this tree, I am one. But what one? I came I know not whence; I go I know not whither. Let me go. What matter where? My Captain has gone.
Perhaps I wander in mind. I have fever.
At one time I think I am going to die, and I long for death. The life I live is too difficult.