We were all impatient
as hounds in leash. Since they would not come up and give us
battle we wanted to be off and have it out with them. And the
people were tired of delay. The cry of 'ste'boy!' was ringing all
over the north. They wanted to cut us loose and be through with
dallying.
Well, one night the order came; we were to go south in the
morning - thirty thousand of us, and put an end to the war. We did
not get away until afternoon - it was the 6th of July. When we
were off, horse and foot, so that I could see miles of the blue
column before and behind me, I felt sorry for the mistaken South.
On the evening of the 18th our camp-fires on either side of the pike
at Centreville glowed like the lights of a city. We knew the enemy
was near, and began to feel a tightening of the nerves. I wrote a
letter to the folks at home for post mortem delivery, and put it into
my trousers pocket. A friend in my company called me aside after
mess.
'Feel of that,' he said, laying his hand on a full breast.
'Feathers!' he whispered significantly.
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