Daniel Booth, a bugler who was near Taylor when the latter was struck, assisted in getting the wounded man back out of range. Booth told me that Giles did not flinch—he was in the front rank when he was shot. He did not fall from his horse, but fired one or two shots after he was struck. Then he said to Booth:
“I'm hit—the blood's running into my boot; guess I'm hurt bad.”
Booth hastened to Taylor's assistance. The latter was growing weak from loss of blood. Just then Gen. Davies's headquarters ambulance came along, and the general who was near at hand and had seen Booth and another soldier supporting Taylor in the saddle, directed them to put him in the ambulance.
“No; don't let them put me in the ambulance, it'll kill me if they lay me down. Let me stay in the saddle, boys.”
Booth remained with Taylor till they reached the landing where the wounded men were being loaded on boats to be taken to City Point. A surgeon examined Taylor's wound.
“It's fatal,” the doctor whispered to Booth. “But he can't stay here; help him on board the boat.”
The boy bugler and others raised the dying trooper and bore him tenderly on board the steamer. They laid him down on a blanket among other wounded soldiers. Then the whistle blew, and the command was given, “All ashore that's going!” Taylor was sinking fast, but he pressed Booth's hand and said:
“Good-by, Booth; I'm dying. Send word to my folks at home—tell them I faced the music, and was shot with my harness on. Remember me to the boys.”
“Good-by, Giles.”
Booth jumped ashore as the gang plank was being pulled on board, and hastened back to the regiment. Poor Taylor was a corpse before the boat reached City Point. His body was taken to the cavalry corps hospital, and buried in the grave the head-board of which attracted my attention.