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Tommy Lipscomb and his kettle drum.

I do not know whether we were expected to be on hand the day of the battle or not. I do not recall any incident until we crossed the Potomac, except this rather funny one.

There was a certain man detailed to blow the fife, and had been one of our excellent drum corps, which the seven days around Richmond had reduced to two—Tommy Lipscomb, with his kettle drum, and our friend with the fife. Seeing no need of screeching at reveille, I directed his captain to give him a gun and send him back for duty with his company. He evidently did not like the ehange, for after carrying it for two days his gun was brought to me one morning with this written on a dirty piece of paper: ‘Major, take your d—n old rifle and go to h—l; I am going to Mosby.’ Which I suppose he did, for he was never any more with us, and it became a standing joke with the field officers of other regiments to ask me, most emphatically: “Where is——?” Answer: ‘Gone to h—l or Mosby.’


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