I have forgotten the
names inscribed on the other two pieces. I saw these very four guns
surrendered at Missionary Ridge. But of this another time.
The battle of Perryville presented a strange scene. The dead, dying,
and wounded of both armies, Confederate and Federal, were blended in
inextricable confusion. Now and then a cluster of dead Yankees and close
by a cluster of dead Rebels. It was like the Englishman's grog--'alf and
'alf. Now, if you wish, kind reader, to find out how many were killed
and wounded, I refer you to the histories.
I remember one little incident that I laughed at while in the very midst
of battle. We were charging through an old citizen's yard, when a big
yellow cur dog ran out and commenced snapping at the soldiers' legs--
they kicking at him to keep him off. The next morning he was lying near
the same place, but he was a dead dog.
I helped bring off our wounded that night. We worked the whole night.
The next morning about daylight a wounded comrade, Sam Campbell,
complained of being cold, and asked me to lie down beside him. I did so,
and was soon asleep; when I awoke the poor fellow was stiff and cold in
death. His spirit had flown to its home beyond the skies.
After the battle was over, John T.
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