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 humored him, laughing at his persistence. When we were ordered to move forward, the captain, with his two hundred and fifty pounds of avoirdupois, streaming with perspiration, continued to hold aloft his umbrella. During the time we were in this recumbent position, our division commander, General D. H. Hill and his staff rode by, and I witnessed in him a truly remarkable instance of his characteristic will which seemed to dominate physical pain, and in performance of duty made him regardless of self-sacrifice. One of the enemy's shells burst in front of the passing horsemen, and a piece of it cut under the arm of General Hill, tore away a portion of his uniform, his vest, if he had on any, and his shirt, and left a portion of the bare flesh on his side exposed. Wonderful to relate, the countenance of the General was unchanged, so far as we could see. No remark was made about the piece of shell, nor the work it had done, and no change was apparent in the gait of the horses, or at all in the conduct of General Hill or his comrades. This exhibition of indifference reminded me of seeing, during the seven days battles, while passing along a road, Stonewall Jackson1 and D. H. Hill, who were brothers-in-law, dismount from their horses, and, sitting on a rail fence, pour syrup from a small bottle upon biscuits, which they were eating, passing the syrup to each other as they ate. During the time shell and shot were falling thick and fast around them, but they did not seem to hear them, not to be at all concerned about their safety. Such wonderful presence of mind had an encouraging influence over the weary and worn infantrymen as they trudged by, moving toward the enemy and witnessing an occasional comrade fall wounded and carried to the rear.
1 The editor who served in the command of General Jackson saw him on more than one occasion evince similar imperturbability, whilst minie balls rained around and shells exploded with terrific sound and results near him —he sat firmly in his saddle on ‘Old Sorrel’ smiling grimly, as those a-foot about him bent, in his estimation, idly, to avoid preordained fate.
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