I remember that the call of one poor fellow was insistent.
He repeatedly cried: Oh, sir kind sir!
Come to me!
I walked over to where he lay and asked: What regiment do you belong tot
He answered: The Fifth Mississippi.
I then said: What do you want
He replied: Oh, I am cold!
I knew it was from the approach of death, but noticing that he had a blanket over him I said: You have a good warm blanket over you.
He looked toward it and said gently: Yes, some kind gentleman from Massachusetts spread his blanket over me, but, sir, I'm still cold.
A Massachusetts soldier had given his only blanket to a wounded man — a wounded enemy.
We silently passed on to our allotted lines.
I pondered over my instructions, prepared orders for others, and then, with mingled hope and apprehension and conscious trust in God, lay down to dream of home.
Only one of my regiments (the Fifth New Hampshire) was called to the front that evening.
The Confederate and Union men were so mixed up