Comrade Flint was fairly peppered with pieces of tin plate, cup, knife, fork and spoon, which wounded him severely in several places. He stood the pain as long as he could, and finally said he was going back to the lines; we advised him to wait until dark, but the pain was so great that he could not, and he started on the run across the open field, back to our main line. Instantly he was a target for the rebel sharpshooters. We watched him anxiously, and once saw him go down, but he was up and off in a moment, and reached our lines, where he went into the hospital.
He received a wound in the leg, from which he never fully recovered. The other wounds healed after a while, but left indelible scars.
Soon after, the firing ceased, and we felt better, when we were no longer in danger from our own artillery.
At last, on the morning of the 12th came the order to attack, and our gallant little brigade commanded by Colonel Prescott, dashed across the field as far as the foot of Laurel Hill. How our brave boys charged those works under that heavy shower of grape and canister, none who survived will ever forget!
But we could not take the works, and had to fall back, under a galling fire from their whole line. Oh! What a shower of death came down upon us! Before we got our colors back to our old position, the 32nd had lost five color bearers, and one hundred and three, out of one hundred and ninety men, killed or wounded. A number of the boys of our company lay killed or wounded upon the field we had charged over, and the constant firing along the whole line of the enemy’s works, made it dangerous business going out to bring them in; but several of us determined to do so, in spite of the risk we incurred.
Before leaving home we had made a solemn promise to each other, that no man should be left unburied or uncared for on the field; that we would risk life and limbs that our wounded should be cared for, and our dead comrades tenderly laid in the bosom of mother earth. We usually waited until night before going out after our fallen comrades, but we could see the poor fellows lying there under the scorching sun, and felt that some of them would not hold out until night.
Taking a blanket for a stretcher, four of us started out on the run, drawing upon us a deadly fire from the enemy. One of our party fell, wounded in the leg, but the rest managed to take him along in our hasty retreat. Again and again we made the attempt, succeeding in getting most of our wounded under cover.
Night came, and we started out to bury our dead. Many a poor fellow lying upon his face, did I turn over in my search for my comrades that night. Suddenly I came upon one of my company, still living, but mortally wounded. He had been shot through the spine, and could not be moved, so I made him as comfortable as possible by putting a blanket under his head, and giving him some water. His sufferings were terrible, but soon over; he knew his time had come, and gave me messages for his folks and friends at home.
I promised him that I would write and let them know how, and when he died, and that I would see that he was buried. I remained with him until death released him from his agony, then closed his eyes, and covered him with his blanket.
Sadly I left him, and moved on to where I could hear a well known voice calling for help. It was another of my company badly wounded, but able to be moved, so I hastily rolled him into a blanket, and we soon had him within our line.