“I guess I'm not as thirsty as I thought I was,” remarked the young cavalryman, as he declined the offer of another canteen.
A sergeant of a Pennsylvania regiment in the second brigade, was severely wounded in the leg. Two comrades attempted to assist him back behind a tree to the left of the road. The wounded non-commissioned officer was carried on a piece of board, which the troopers held between them, and supported himself by holding on to their shoulders.
Just as they were passing our position in line, a shell struck the board, and stove it into splinters. The sergeant was thrown on one side of the road, and his two comrades on the other. I thought they were dead, but in a few seconds the sergeant raised up on his elbow and called out:
“Jackson, are you killed?”
“No, sir; but I'm unconscious.”
“Where's Corbet?”
“Here, sir; but I'm unconscious, too. There's no breath left in me body.”
Then the two troopers lifted their heads and looked cautiously around. They had escaped serious injury, but the sergeant's other leg was badly shattered. They picked him up and bore him to the rear.
Gen. Gregg fought his division well, and the survivors of the engagement at Hawes's Shop will bear testimony that the rebels held their ground bravely.
We pressed forward to the breastworks, but were unable to carry the line. The Confederates poured volley after volley into our ranks. Still the troopers, with averted faces, worked their way to the front, securing a position and holding it within pistol range of the enemy. Boys in blue and boys in butternut went down.