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been shot down.
When I called to him to let me carry the flag, saying, too, that he would be killed, he replied, calmly: ‘Lieutenant, your life is worth as much as mine.’
I did not think of the awkward looks of a Virginian carrying a North Carolina flag for them, and I do not know whether the General did or not.
The morning after the battle of Frazier's Farm, June 30, 1862, I was detailed to take command of forty-five skirmishers to charge the bluecoats out of a barn, and when we started at double quick it looked like going into the jaws of death.
We were greatly relieved when the enemy hoisted the white flag and surrendered, sixty-two of them, for the whole Yankee Army had left the night previous for Malvern Hill.
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