Our army whipped the
Yankees so badly on Saturday and Sunday (May 28-29) that there was no fighting
yesterday. I believe, though, that another fight is going on to-day, for I hear
considerable cannonading, and I saw a balloon up a short while ago.
On Sunday I was sent
to Richmond to look after our sick and did not return until late yesterday
afternoon. While there I had an opportunity to observe the shocking results of
a battle, but, instead of increasing my horror of a battlefield, it made me
more anxious than ever to be in a conflict and share its honors. To me every
wounded man seemed covered with glory.
Our casualties were
certainly very great, for every house which could be had was being filled with
the wounded. Even the depots were being filled with them and they came pouring
into the hospitals by wagon loads. Nearly all were covered with mud, as they
had fought in a swamp most of the time and lay out all night after being
wounded. Many of them were but slightly wounded, many others severely, large
numbers mortally, and some would die on the road from the battlefield. In every
direction the slightly wounded were seen with their arms in slings, their heads
tied up, or limping about. One man appeared as if he had been entirely immersed
in blood, yet he could walk. Those in the hospitals had received severe flesh
wounds or had bones broken, or some vital part penetrated. They did not seem to
suffer much and but few ever groaned, but they will suffer when the reaction
takes place. I saw one little fellow whose thigh was broken. He was a mere
child, but was very cheerful.
Our brigade will
move about four miles from here this evening. We occupy the extreme left of
Johnson's army and may remain near here for some time, but we cannot tell.
Movements of war are very, very uncertain.
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