But we fared better than other regiments of our brigade. On our left Sherman's regiment, the 13th regulars, lost 77 out of a total of 250 men; their commander, Captain Washington, was mortally wounded and every other officer of the regiment more or less severely wounded. Also, the 83rd Indiana and the 127th Illinois on our right suffered more than we, but such a long dreadful day it was without food or water, under the excessive heat of the sun, lying flat in that old gully, but hardly daring to move a limb or change our position for fear of attracting a rebel volley. As the sun sank in the west and we saw night approaching, our fears were excited for our safety. We well knew if we remained where we were until nightfall the enemy would sally out of their works and capture us, so we held a parley and agreed that at a given signal all of us who could would scatter and run for some near cover in the rear, where resting briefly we would run on to other covers still further to the rear, until the dusk of approaching night would finally shield us, and we carried out that program so faithfully that all who made the run escaped unscathed. My first sprint took me to an old dry sycamore stump a few rods away, behind which I threw myself just in time to escape being numerously punctured. When I got good and ready I ran again, and again, until I could no longer discern through the gathering shadows the long long line of rebel stockade behind me, and then I stopped and took one long breath--bigger than a pound of wool. Not one of my comrades could I then see. They had scampered away like a bevy of partridges and were swallowed up in the gloom of night. When I was making my way rearward through a patch of cockleburs up the slope of the hill, I heard a wounded man groaning nearby, and I went to his assistance. He was shot through the leg above the knee, and I had to stop some of the incoming stragglers to assist me in taking him back to the field hospital. When we got him down into the first ravine, he begged so piteously for water we laid him down and with my canteen I groped along in the darkness until I heard the trickling of a spring and managed to catch enough water to stay the poor fellow's thirst until we got him back to a surgeon. Then it was night, in the shadow of those great forest trees, of the blackest description. None dare make a light or fire. In every direction could be heard soldiers calling for their comrades without responses. I didn't know where the headquarters of my regiment was, and I could find no one who could tell me. I was both thirsty and hungry. I was heartsick and tired. It was getting awfully cold. I sat down at the roots of an old forest tree and tried to sleep. All night long I heard the stretcher bearers bringing in the wounded, and I thought I would freeze before morning. [Illustration] CHAPTER III.