"Off be d--d, their shells were never worth the powder to blow 'em to h--l, see the hole in the butt of it, it would make a G--d--d good mawl, wouldn't it?" and looking round at the same time he found an old broom. Stripping the brush and wire from the handle he said, "I'll make a mawl of it and drive that d--d rebel stake into the ground with one of their own d--d shells, be d--d if I don't." Inserting the broom handle into the end of the shell he walked over to a stump, and taking the shell in both hands commenced pounding onto the stick against the stump; "d--d tight fit," he hollored to me, and the next instant I was knocked down by a terrific explosion. I came to my senses in a minute and hastened to where he had been standing. There the poor fellow lay unconscious and completely covered with blood, there was hardly a shred of clothes on him, his hair was all burned and both hands taken completely off, as if done by a surgeon's saw. I was excited and horror stricken for a moment. The sight was horrible, but I quickly regained my composure, knowing that something must be done, and done quickly. So taking the snares from my drum I wound them tightly around his wrists to stop the flow of blood, then I hailed an ambulance, and we took him to the held hospital about a mile to the rear. On the way the poor fellow regained consciousness, and looking at his mutilated wrists, and then with a quick and bewildered glance at me, "G--d--d tough, ain't it," then the tears started in his eyes, and he broke down and sobbed the rest of the way, "Oh, my God! What will my poor mother say? Oh, what will she do!" We reached the field hospital, which is only a temporary place for the wounded where the wounds are hurriedly dressed, and then they are sent to regular hospitals, located in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Norfolk, Portsmouth, etc., where they have all the comforts possible. We laid the little fellow down in one corner of the tent to wait his turn with the surgeon, and when I left him, he cried and begged for me to stay, but I couldn't stand his suffering longer, so I bade him good-bye with tears streaming down my own cheeks. I hurried out, and even after I reached the outside I could hear him cry, "Oh, my God! What will my poor mother say? Oh, what will she do!" In the afternoon I was detailed to wait on the amputating tables at the field hospital.