"Well, I had sent my Sergeant to get a few rails to keep a poor boy comfortable who had a high fever, and who could not get into the hospital for want of room. The wood that was cut from the hill was green, and the poor fellow had been nearly smoked to death. The Sergeant went with a couple of men, and was coming back, the men having two rails apiece, when just as they got the other side of the Toll-gate on the hill, the Provost-Guard stopped them, told them there was an order against their using rails, and they must drop them. It did no good to say that they were for a sick man, that was no go. They thought they had to do it, and did it. They hadn't come fifty yards toward camp, before one of those big six-mule corps-teams that have been hauling rails for the last four days, came along, and the rails were pitched into the wagon. When I heard of it I was wrothy. I cut a bee-line for the Adjutant and got the Order, and there it was in black and white, that no more fences—rebel fences—should be destroyed, and no more rails used. Now, I knew well that these corps-teams had hauled and hauled until the whole establishment, from General Porter down to his Darkies, were in rails up to their eyes,
and then, when they had their own fill, this order comes, and we, poor devils, might whistle. Here were our hospitals like smoke-houses, not fit for human beings, and especially the sick. It was a little too d——d mean. I couldn't stand it. The more I thought of it the madder I got, and I got fighting mad, when I thought how often that same General in his kid gloves, fancy rig, and cloak thrown back from his shoulders to show all the buttons and stars, had passed me without noticing my salute. He never got a second chance, and never will. I started off, took three more men than the Sergeant had; went to the first fence I could find, and that was about two miles—for the corps-teams had made clean work—loaded my men and myself, and started back. The Provost-Guard was at the old place; I was bound to pass them squarely.
"'Captain,' said the Sergeant, 'we have orders to stop all parties carrying rails.'
"'By whose orders?'
"'General Porter's.'
"'I am one of General Porter's men. I have authority for this, sir,' said I, looking him full in the eye.
"'Boys, move on!' and on we did move. When the Lieut. saw us filing left over the hill towards camp, he sent a squad after us. But it was too late. The Devil himself couldn't have had the rails in sight of my company quarters, and I told him so.
"'I'll report you to the Division General, and have you court-martialed, sir.'
"'Very well,' although I knew the General had a mania for courts-martial. 'I have been court-martialed four times, and cleared every clip.'
"'Now let that court-martial come; somebody's meanness will see the light,' thought I.