They are checked; we see them fall back to the woods, and
night throws her mantle over the scene. We fell back now, and had to
strip and wade Chickamauga river. It was up to our armpits, and was as
cold as charity. We had to carry our clothes across on the points of
our bayonets. Fires had been kindled every few yards on the other side,
and we soon got warmed up again.
RINGGOLD GAP
I had got as far as Ringgold Gap, when I had unconsciously fallen asleep
by a fire, it being the fourth night that I had not slept a wink.
Before I got to this fire, however, a gentleman whom I never saw in my
life--because it was totally dark at the time--handed me a letter from
the old folks at home, and a good suit of clothes. He belonged to
Colonel Breckinridge's cavalry, and if he ever sees these lines, I wish
to say to him, "God bless you, old boy." I had lost every blanket and
vestige of clothing, except those I had on, at Missionary Ridge. I laid
down by the fire and went to sleep, but how long I had slept I knew not,
when I felt a rough hand grab me and give me a shake, and the fellow said,
"Are you going to sleep here, and let the Yankees cut your throat?"
I opened my eyes, and asked, "Who are you?" He politely and pleasantly,
yet profanely, told me that he was General Walker (the poor fellow was
killed the 22nd of July, at Atlanta), and that I had better get further.
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