I knew that
in every battle we had fought, except Missionary Ridge, we had whipped
the Yankees, and I knew that we had no cavalry, and but little artillery,
and only two corps of infantry at Missionary Ridge, and from the way Jeff
and Bob talked, it was enough to make us old private soldiers feel that
swelling of the heart we ne'er should feel again. I remember that other
high dignitaries and big bugs, then the controlling spirits of the
government at Richmond, visited us, and most all of these high
dignitaries shook hands with the boys. It was all hands round, swing the
corner, and balance your partner. I shook hands with Hon. Jeff Davis,
and he said howdy, captain; I shook hands with Toombs, and he said howdy,
major; and every big bug that I shook hands with put another star on my
collar and chicken guts on my sleeve. My pen is inadequate to describe
the ecstasy and patriotic feeling that permeated every vein and fiber of
my animated being. It was Paradise regained. All the long struggles we
had followed the Palmetto flag through victory and defeat, through storms
and rains, and snows and tempest, along the dusty roads, and on the weary
marches, we had been true to our country, our cause, and our people;
and there was a conscious pride within us that when we would return to
our homes, we would go back as conquerors, and that we would receive the
plaudits of our people--well done, good and faithful servants; you have
been true and faithful even to the end.
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