Ah, the boys felt like soldiers
again. The bands played merrier and livelier tunes. It was the patient
convalescing; the fever had left him, he was getting fat and strong;
the old fire was seen to illuminate his eyes; his step was buoyant and
proud; he felt ashamed that he had ever been "hacked"; he could fight
now. It was the same old proud soldier of yore. The bands played "Dixie"
and the "Bonnie Blue Flag," the citizens cheered, and the ladies waved
their handkerchiefs and threw us bouquets. Ah, those were halcyon days,
and your old soldier, kind reader, loves to recall that happy period.
Mumfordsville had been captured with five thousand prisoners. New
recruits were continually joining our ranks.
Camp Dick Robinson, that immense pile of army stores, had fallen into our
hands. We rode upon the summit of the wave of success. The boys had got
clean clothes, and had their faces washed. I saw then what I had long
since forgotten--a "cockade." The Kentucky girls made cockades for us,
and almost every soldier had one pinned on his hat. But stirring events
were hastening on, the black cloud of battle and war had begun then to
appear much larger than a man's hand, in fact we could see the lightning
flash and hear the thunder roar.
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