When "Parson" William G. Bronlow, the courageous and persistent leader of the Union men of East Tennessee, arrived at the St. Cloud Hotel, under flag of truce from Knoxville, escorted by an officer of the Confederate army, many of our officers wished to pay their respects. Twenty officers requested me, as adjutant, to introduce them. Admitted to his hotel, I greeted him and introduced my companions. He introduced the young Confederate officer with the remark, "This young man is my nephew, a man with good intentions, but sadly misguided." Each spoke a few words with the Parson, a nervous, sympathetic and passionate man. Just before we left he exclaimed: "Gentlemen, you are right. Fight 'em, fight 'em, fight 'em till hell freezes over, and then fight 'em on the ice!" A strange speech for a parson, perhaps, but illustrating the intense bitterness the war instilled in all. Buell's command was ordered to proceed by forced marches to Shiloh to reinforce Grant, about to give battle to the Confederate General Johnson, and on April 6, 1862, my regiment, the 18th U. S. Infantry (two battalions, nineteen companies), as a part of the Third Brigade, First Division, Army of the Ohio, marched all day in the rain toward the sound of the cannon at the battle then raging at Shiloh Church. We arrived at Savannah late at night, eighteen miles above the battle-ground. The rain made the roads on the left bank of the river almost impassable, and it was decided to send us on by steamer. It was, however, nine or ten o'clock in the morning before a boat could be furnished, so we did not arrive at Pittsburg Landing until about two p.m. of that day, when the battle was almost over. As we approached the landing, Colonel Shepherd ordered Lieutenant D. W. Benham, the quartermaster, and me, to proceed inland to find someone authorized to place us in proper position. A few hundred yards away we found most of the generals in consultation. General Buell designated our position and we returned to deliver General Buell's instructions. Here the regiment saw its first horrors of war. Many wounded were carried to the numerous hospital boats tied up at the landing. In a cave under the Bluffs Benham and I saw a large number of ghastly corpses, stained with blood, laid on the leaves. Suddenly Benham exclaimed, "My God, Mills, there's a man who's not dead! See, his face is red, and I can see his chest heave. What a cruel thing to turn him out for dead!" Feeling his pulse, Benham exclaimed, "This man is alive!" raised his head to help him, when he smelled the fumes of whiskey. Evidently the man had drunk during the battle, been overcome, and, seeing what he supposed were fellow soldiers asleep, had concluded to turn in. It is needless to say that both Benham and I lost our interest in the "poor fellow" and left him to sleep off his drunk.