Willoughby's run we were accosted by a wounded Confederate lieutenant, also going to the rear. In an instant a cannon shot passed through his head, leaving only the lower part of his face, with mustache and goatee. We soon found a field hospital, where I noticed some Sisters of Charity, but my wounds receiving no attention except from these good Sisters, became very painful. Next day we had to stand in line and wait our turn to be treated. After four hours waiting—watching men drop from exhaustion, and some died—my turn came. The front (outer bone) of my forehead was found to be fractured and was set and dressed and my finger was amputated, all of which was done without an anaesthetic. The place was like a slaughter pen—legs, arms, hands, etc., all piled up. I saw pits dug to bury the dead, the Federals and Confederates being first separated. One deep trench was about 20 feet long, 12 feet wide and 20 feet deep, and it was filled. I was enabled to keep up with our army, retreating to Virginia, and finally reached my home in Nottoway county, Va., about August 15th, which occasioned some surprise and rejoicing, as I had been reported dead.
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