'Balls can't go through 'em,
ye know. Better n a steel breastplate! Want some?
'Don't know but I do,' said I.
We went into his tent, where he had a little sack full, and put a
good wad of them between my two shirts.
'I hate the idee o'bein'hit 'n the heart,' he said. 'That's too awful.
I nodded my assent.
'Shouldn't like t'have a ball in my lungs, either,' he added. ' 'Tain't
necessary fer a man t'die if he can only breathe. If a man gits his
leg shot off an' don't lose his head an' keeps drawin' his breath
right along smooth an even, I don't see why he can't live.
Taps sounded. We went asleep with our boots on, but nothing
happened.
Three days and nights we waited. Some called it a farce, some
swore, some talked of going home. I went about quietly, my bosom
under its pad of feathers. The third day an order came from
headquarters. We were to break camp at one-thirty in the morning
and go down the pike after Beauregard. In the dead of the night the
drums sounded. I rose, half-asleep, and heard the long roll far and
near.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384