“Gor-rammed little fool; didn’t you know better than that?”
Then I saw the great big tears come into his eyes, and I couldn’t stand it. I patted him on the back and said: “Never mind, Charley. I’ll go and get the watch back if I have to kill the pie man.” So off I started on the dead run, caught the fellow just as he was ready to go. I asked him if I could ride to the rear with him. He answered, “Yes, and you can show me how to get into that turnip watch.” So I climbed on to the seat beside him and we started. I took the watch apart, showed him how it was wound, set and regulated it, and was about to hand it back to him, when a shell burst a short way from us, which frightened his horse so that he cramped the wagon and upset it, and in the confusion I got lost with the watch. On the next day I gave it to my brother and told him how I had obtained it. He laughed at me, and said he “guess I’d better keep it myself,” and so put it in his pocket. That night the regiment went into action, and my brother was slightly wounded several times. One shot would have proved fatal, but the watch received the bullet and the wound proved fatal only to the watch; it was smashed all to pieces. But my brother prizes the pieces now more than he ever did the whole watch.
The next day my regiment was ordered to the front again. I made up my mind I would not go with them. I concluded I needed rest in order to recuperate, so when the regiment started I bade my brother good-bye, gave him a parting kiss and God’s blessings, so off I started.
About a half a mile from my regiment I came to one of those Virginia fences, got up on top of it, and sat thinking, and while sitting there the shells began to fly pretty thick. I thought I had better be moving, jumped down, and as I did so a shell struck one of the rails of the fence. A piece of the rail struck me and was harder than I was, for when I came to my senses I found I was in the hospital. I didn’t think I was hurt very badly, but when I tried to get up, found I couldn’t. From there they moved me to “Balfour Hospital” at Portsmouth, Virginia. I never will forget the shame and mortification I felt at the sight I must have presented when the boat that conveyed us to Portsmouth arrived.
An old negro came to my bunk and took me on his back, and with a boot in each hand dangling over his shoulder he carried me pickaback through the streets to the hospital, a large, fine building, formerly the “Balfour Hotel,” and converted into a hospital after Portsmouth was captured. They took me up stairs into what was formerly the dining-room but now filled with over two hundred little iron beds, and each bed occupied by a wounded soldier. Everything in and about the place was as neat as wax. They carried me to a vacant bed near the center of the room, and I noticed the next bed to mine had several tin dishes hanging over it, suspended from the ceiling. These were filled with water, and from a small hole punctured in the bottom the water would slowly but constantly drip upon some poor fellow’s wound to keep it moist. I had just sat down on the side of my bed, when I was startled by the sound of a familiar voice. “Hello, cully! What you been doin’, playing with one of those d—d shells, too?”
No, I replied, the shells were playing with me. Then I recognized the occupant of the next bed as my drummer boy acquaintance who had his hands blown off a week ago. What a strange thing that we should be brought together side by side again, both wounded with a shell and nearly on the same spot.
He had changed wonderfully; his little white pinched face told too plainly the suffering he had endured. I asked him how he was getting along.
“Oh I’m getting along pretty d—d fast. I guess I’ll croak in a few days.”
“Oh you musn’t talk that way, you’ll be all right in a little while.”
“Oh, no, cully, I know better. I’m a goner; I know it. I don’t want to live, anyhow. What in h—l is the good of a man without hands?” Then turning his bandaged head towards me, his eyes filling with tears. “I aint afraid to die, cul., but I would like to see my old mother first. Do you think I will?”