Another man whose courage flared up superior to wounds and mutilation and who was brave enough to do his duty in spite of the agony he was suffering, was Corporal Miles James, who on September 30, 1864, at Chapins Farm, Virginia, with the rest of his company was attacking the enemy's works. They had charged up to within thirty yards of the fortifications when they were met by a murderous storm of grape and canister, the enemy having held their fire until the very last moment. A grape-shot cut through Corporal James' left arm just above the elbow, smashing right through the middle of the bone and cutting the arm half off so that it dangled by the severed muscles. The force of the blow whirled James around like a top and he fell over to the ground, but was on his feet again in an instant and started for the Confederate line like the bulldog that he was. "Go back, Corporal," shouted one of his men. "Your arm's half off and you'll bleed to death." "No I won't," yelled James; "my right arm is my fighting-arm anyway." "Let me tie you up then," said the man, pulling him to the ground where the rest of the regiment lay flat on their faces waiting for the storm to pass so that they might charge again. "There's plenty of time." An examination of the arm showed that it was past saving. "Corporal," said the other, "you had better let me take this arm right off. I can make a quick job with my bowie-knife and bandage it. If I don't you'll bleed to death." "All right," said Miles; "go ahead." A minute later the amateur surgeon tied the last knot in the bandage which he had made out of a couple of bandanna handkerchiefs which had been contributed by others of the file. "Now, Corporal," he said, coaxingly, "let me get you back where you can lie down and rest." "No," said Corporal James, "the only resting I'm going to do will be inside those works." He reached back for the Springfield rifle which he had dropped when first struck and fitting it carefully to his right shoulder, fired a well-aimed shot at a Confederate gunner who was serving one of the cannons on the breastworks. As the man toppled over the corporal smiled grimly and in spite of offers of help from all sides, loaded and fired his gun twice again. By this time the fire had died down and the corporal suddenly sprang to his feet and started for the breastworks. "Hurry up, fellows," he shouted to his men; "don't let a one-armed man do all the work." With a tremendous cheer the whole force sprang again to their feet and swarmed over the ramparts in a rush which there was no stopping. James was right with them, two of his men hoisting and pushing him up, for he found that although he could shoot, it was more difficult to climb with one arm. As the last Confederates who were left surrendered, James sat down against one of the captured cannon and smiled wanly at the man who had helped him and said: "Now I'll take a rest and later on I'll go to the rear with you if you like."