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[216] who was often wounded but is now living, a highly respected citizen, six miles from Auburn, Ala.; W. B. (Tobe) Ward, who was killed near Appomattox, Va.; Corporal Archy Wilkerson, who was badly wounded in the mouth, and died in Arkansas since the war, and the two gallant brothers, Walter P. and Fletcher Zachry. The latter is now living, a respected citizen of Tyler, Texas. Moses W. Wright, of Tuskegee, who died later during the war, and the two brave brothers, John U. and Ben. F. Ingram.

John was killed at Seven Pines May 31, 1862, just one month later, and Ben died at Garrison, Tex., in 1903.

Among all of these comrades I met a cordial reception, except at the hands of Corp. Wilkerson, who, speaking for his tent number 9, replied: ‘We have no objection to you, but if Lieutenant Zuber, who comes from our settlement, is a candidate, our mess will have to vote for him.’ I replied that the men in the other eight tents were unanimous for me and that I did not feel any concern if the lieutenant did decide to become a candidate.

The next day's result of the election in Company F was:

Robert H. Keeling, captain; John W. McNeely, first lieutenant; Robert E. Park, second lieutenant—all unanimously; John W. Wright elected third lieutanant over Sergeant M. A. Flournoy, A. S. Grigg and R. Flewellen.

The election of field officers, and the prompt refusal of Colonel Jones to endorse Captain Patterson as lieutenant colonel caused intense excitement, but it soon wore away.

The second day after my election I was detailed to act as officer of the guard, and reported in my private's uniform, with a borrowed sword, to Colonel Jones. The colonel glanced up and looked at me from head to foot, and from foot to head, and quaintly said, ‘I am glad, Lieutenant, that you were elected a commissioned officer, but I advise you to get a new uniform as soon as possible.’ He then quietly gave me instructions as to my new duties. It is a source of regret that I could not preserve a photograph or ambrotype of myself as I appeared when I reported to Colonel Jones. I was something over seventeen years of age. I had grown considerably and my round-a-bout gray coat had become too short and did not meet my pants, nor could it be buttoned in front. The end of the sleeves was fully six inches from my hand. The pants had been scorched in the rear, on the calf of the leg, and were a mass of dark strings. The bottom of the

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