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 hottest fire. It was in that division, for example, on Cemetery Ridge, which, during the battle of July 3d, received Pickett's magnificent charge with pluck as magnificent. The crest was soon covered with dead and wounded; but all who survived of the attacking column remained prisoners on the ridge. The Twentieth Massachusetts carried to Gettysburg ten officers and two hundred and eighteen men. Of these, seven officers and one hundred and one men fell in the action; three officers and one hundred and sixteen men came out unscathed, or too slightly wounded to be reported. Patten was twice wounded, but even after his second wound refused to quit the field. One wound was in the leg, the other in the hand. The middle finger of his right hand was amputated. That his wounds might the sooner heal, Patten took a furlough. It was a twelvemonth since he had been home. He now received the rank of Captain, antedated to May 1, 1863; he had had at least the satisfaction of performing its duties on a lieutenant's rank and pay for a full year. On this visit, as always, he was full of enthusiasm for his company, his regiment, and, above all, for the immortal cause. He was loud in his praises of McClellan also, of whom he remained an unyielding champion to the end. On all these points he was never tired of talking, and they seemed to absorb the whole of his once varied and changeable thoughts. There was little now in the army to keep him away from home; but he returned, as usual, at the first moment, and went through all Meade's exhausting series of marches and manoeuvres, which resulted in the battle of Bristoe, where Warren thoroughly repulsed A. P. Hill. Warren's Second Division did this work, and the Twentieth captured two of the five guns there taken. Soon after, Patten marched with the army to Mine Run; and his regiment, deployed as skirmishers, drove in the enemy's skirmishers at Robertson's Tavern with memorable rapidity. Patten's days were now nearly numbered. He came back from Mine Run with a debilitating disease of the bowels, almost surely fastened upon him for life. One whiff of fresh Northern air was all he would allow himself. Against the
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