Let me see, I left the party sitting, as it appeared to me, an unnecessarily long time at Baldy Smith's. I say “unnecessarily,” first, because it was several hours, and General Meade had nothing: to discuss of any moment; and, secondly, because a round-shot would, every now and then, crash through the neighboring trees, or go hoppity-hop along the open field on the edge of which the tents were. You ought to see them skip! It would be odd, if it were rot so dangerous. When they have gone some distance and are going slower, you can see them very plainly, provided you are in front of, or behind them. They pass with a great whish, hit the ground, make a great hop, and so go skip, skip, skip, till they get exhausted, and then tumble--flouf--raising a puff of sand. That is the reason round-shot are more dangerous than conical, which strike perhaps once, vault into the air with a noise like a catherine's wheel, topple over and over, and drop without further trouble. . . . At last the General's confab was broken up by the arrival of Burnside,1 who, in Fredericksburg days, had a furious quarrel with Baldy and Brooks — or they with him. So they don't speak now; and we enjoyed the military icicle in great perfection! All the day there was sharpshooting and cannonading along our front.
June 5, 1864This afternoon I carried a flag of truce — quite an episode in my military experiences. At three in the afternoon General Meade sent for me and said, as if asking for a piece of bread and butter: “Lyman, I want you to take ”