as drum-major; then the comb band; next the quartermaster, with the carbine reversed, as a firing party; then the corpse borne on a stretcher by four negroes, two small and two large; then the mourners (officers who had expected to eat the turkey, and were left); all so disguised that none could recognize them.
We marched down the main street of the camp, the comb band playing the dead march.
Men half dressed came out of their tents to see what was the trouble, but we passed beyond the camp lines, where a grave had been prepared.
Here the body was lowered, remarks were made by the chaplain (pro tem.), a poem was read by the quartermaster, and we returned to camp and mourned for the spirits that had departed.
Another jolly time I recall.
One day a light snow had fallen, and the men began to snow-ball.
Soon companies were engaged and then the right and left wings of the regiment were pitted against each other.
I was with the left wing and we were holding our own when the drum corps re-enforced the right.
Up to this time headquarters had been spectators, but they became excited, and joined the right wing.
With such re-enforcements, the battle would soon be lost to us, but I remembered that some twenty of our negro servants were in rear of the hospital tent, and I went to them and offered bounty if they would enlist.
They hesitated, but I assured them that I would stand the blame if they joined our forces.
Having loaded every one with an armful of snow balls, I charged over the hill and attacked headquarters by the flank.
If any one doubts the bravery of colored troops he should have seen my army that day. They rushed upon the foe, regardless of who it was. Their ammunition exhaused, they started on the charge with heads