Didn't they treat you well?”
“Bully,” was his reply.
“Then treat me the same.”
“We will; where are your straps?”
“I have lost them for the time being.”
“All right, I shan't say a word.”
He kept his promise, and when I left the rebels, they took me for a surgeon.
Twenty-four hours after crossing at Fitz-Hugh's Landing, we recrossed and went to Chancellorsville
There we were stationed at a separate space, and guarded two roads, a position of honor, given, as I was assured by General Hooker
, as a compliment to the regiment, We were unsuccessful at Chancellorsville
, but through no fault of General Hooker
's. It would have been a glorious victory, had it not been for the defection of an army corps, and this was due to the bad conduct of its officers, and not to any lack of courage among the men. The Eleventh corps occupied a position directly in front of the enemy, and was, nevertheless, allowed by its officers to lay down its arms and make coffee.
It was then attacked by the rebels with those unearthly shouts of theirs.
The rebels beat any people out shouting.
One half the battles in that neighborhood were fought by power of the luugs rather than the bayonet.
The lungs of the rebels are not so strong as ours, but they have a boy-like scream, which is much shriller. (Colonel Morrow
then related an amusing anecdote of the counter-cheering of the rebels and the Twenty-fourth at Fitz-Hugh's Landing.) General Hooker
, at Chancellorsville
, exhibited splendid generalship.
I was told by a prisoner, a rebel colonel — a fact never before printed, I believe — that General Hooker
succeeded in transporting thirty thousand men across the Rappahaunock
, and right into the centre of the rebel position, without their obtaining the least knowledge of it. In fact, General Hooker
succeeded in dividing the rebel army, cutting off Stuart
, and obliging the former to cut his way through in order to reach headquarters.
However, we lost the battle, and fell back into our old camp.
At Gettsburgh, with my assistant surgeon, Dr. Collar
, indefatigable in season and out of season, I visited the hospitals and the battle-field — the latter at twelve o'clock in the night on the third, determining the names of those that had fallen.
In a barn, among two hundred others, I found a little Irish boy from this city, Patrick Cleary
, a bright boy, and a brace little fellow.
I said to him: “Patrick
, how do you feel?”
He said: “Pretty well, but the doctor says I can't live.”
I looked at his wounded leg and saw that mortification had set in. I said: “I don't know; the doctor is the best judge.
If he says you can't live, you had better prepare to die.”
Said he: “Colonel
, if you'll have the leg taken off, I'll be with the regiment in a week.”
I told him that was impossible.
He then said: “Colonel
, an't you proud of the Twenty-fourth?
Won't the people of Wayne County
God bless that boy. He is dead now. [A voice; “He is alive yet.” ] I am glad to hear it. He is a credit to his native and adopted country.
The last thing the boys think of is what those at home think of them.
They feel proud of themselves, and they want you to feel pround too. Write them cheering letters.
Encourage your soldiers.
Bid them God speed.
Tell them they are fighting in a just and holy cause, as they certainly are.