I felt in some way that though the men avoided me, they yet had a certain respect for me--for my evident suffering, I supposed. Yet an incident occurred which showed me that their respect was not mere pity. The death of our Captain had left a vacancy in Company H. A lieutenant was to be elected by the men. The natural candidate was our highest non-commissioned officer, who was favoured by the company's commander. The officer in command did not, however, use influence upon the men to secure votes. My preference for the position was Louis Bellot, who had been dangerously wounded at Manassas, and who, we heard, would soon return to the company. I took up his cause, and, without his knowledge, secured enough votes to elect him. * * * * * On the 8th of October we advanced to the river. For me it was a miserable march. My mind was in torture, and my strength was failing. Doubts of the righteousness of war had changed to doubts of this war. It was not reason that caused these doubts. Reason told me that the invaders should be driven back. The South had not been guilty of plunging the two countries into war; the South had tried to avert war. The only serious question which my mind could raise upon the conduct of the South was: Had we sufficiently tried to avert war? Had we done all that we could? I did not know, and I doubted. As we advanced, I looked upon long lines of infantry and cannon marching on to battle, and I thought of all this immense preparation for wholesale slaughter of our own countrymen with horror in my heart. Why could not this war have been avoided? I did not know, but I felt that an overwhelming responsibility attached somewhere, for it was not likely that all possibilities of peace had been exhausted by our people. As to the Yankees, I did not then think of them. Their crimes and their responsibilities were their own. I had nothing to do with them; but I was part of the South, and the Southern cause was mine, and upon me also weighed the crime of unjust war if it were unjust upon our side. The thought of the Captain gave me great relief. He had shown me the cause of the South; he had died for it; it could not be wrong. I looked in the faces of the officers and men around me and read patient endurance for the right. I was comforted. I laughed at myself and said, Berwick, you are getting morbid; you are bilious; go to the doctor and get well of your fancies. Then the thought of the Northern cause came to me. Do not the Federal soldiers also think their cause just? If not, what sort of men are they? They must believe they are right. And one side or the other must be wrong. Which is it? They are millions, and we are millions. Millions of men are joined together to perpetrate wrong while believing that they are right? Can such a condition be? Even supposing that most men are led in their beliefs by other men in whose judgment they have confidence, are the leaders of either side impure?