It was the day following a big battle. Our regiment was being moved to the left and in doing so we passed several amputating tables where the surgeons had performed their operations on the wounded the night before. Trenches had been dug at the ends of the tables but were filled to overflowing with hands, arms and legs. The boy espied a nice pair of boots protruding from one pile and, pulling them out, found that some staff officer had amputation performed above the knees. The limbs were drawn from the boots and the boy remarked that they were about his fit; so he exchanged his old shoes for them. I think I should rather have gone barefooted from there to Appomattox than to have done likewise.
CHAPTER XII.
TO PETERSBURG.
On the night of June 12, ’64, the withdrawal of the army from the trenches at Cold Harbor began. The picket lines were not disturbed until the army were several hours under way.
Of course there were all sorts of rumors as to where we were bound for. Many were of the opinion that we were going to White House landing and take transports for Washington, but Grant was not that kind of a general. He had started out to destroy Lee’s army and he was going to keep hammering away until they were licked.
The march from Cold Harbor was a hard one. It is a great wonder how men could bear up under the hardship, considering what they had gone through for several weeks.
No halt was made until morning, and after we had made coffee we were hurried on again. Would-be stragglers were forced along at the point of the bayonet.
Before we left Cold Harbor our colonel had given orders that all of the drummer boys who were without drum should be given a gun, but I was excused from carrying one on this march because of an injury caused by falling in a trench while removing wounded from between the lines one night. My father tried in vain to get me a chance to ride in an ambulance or wagon; there were not accommodations enough for the badly wounded.