614 Nortu Carotina Troops, 1861-’65.

detail, with himself, to take me off the field. They carried
me over the pike into a field near the old railroad grade, where
they were compelled to surrender and were taken prisoners
to the rear, leaving me where you found me. The first thing
I remember, I was surrounded by private Confederate sol-
diers, who were curiously examining my uniform, they
taking my coat off, in the side pocket of which was my pocket
book containing $220 in greenbacks and gold, with papers
by which I might be identified should I be found dead on the
field. They went and sat down ‘on the railroad grade near
by and were examining the contents of the pocketbook when
an officer came to me and saw my condition. He interroga-
ted me as to my rank, regiment, name and nativity, and in
stooping over me to catch my words I though I could see signs
of pity depicted on his face, which gave me hope. I asked
him to unbuckle the spur from my boot. He did so and see-
ing the other foot bootless, he asked its meaning. I told him
some of the men had pulled it off without unbuckling the spur
and that it nearly tore the leg off. He looked around and
found the boot with the spur on it; he took it off and threw
the boots and spurs by my side, asking at the same time if
they had taken anything else from me. I told them they had
taken my coat and.money. He inquired who they were, and
I, pointing to them on the railroad grade, said, “There they
are now.” He looked and saw them and ordered them to re-
store the pocketbook and money, which they did—he placing
the book and money in an inside pocket of my coat. I told
him to take the money and send it to my family, as I feared
it would be an incentive for the men to finish me and take the
money as soon as his back was turned on me. He replied,
“T will see that you are taken care of,” and I soon found my-
self in charge of two Confederates, one a German and one an
Irishman, with a negro to bring water and pour on my
wounds, and faithfully too, they did their whole duty. I
looked around and found that you were not in sight. I told
the men that I was glad that I had given you my spurs as a
partial reward for your kindness, and the Irishman replied,
“Yis, sor, he’s a mighty foine man, so he is sor.” And the
German said, “Yah, he bin so better as gude.” I think this

 

Aw Inowent at Gerryssurea. 615

was the first thing that provoked a smile since I had been:
shot. You know it rained that night, which was a God-send
to me, for it cooled the fever that was burning in me. In this
condition I lay on the field until the afternoon of 3 July,
when the Confederates commenced falling back over me, and
I fearing the cavalry and artillery might crush me, begged

the men to take me to some place of safety, and they took me
to a little house just across the pike and left me on the porch

until the owner of the house came, who was a kind-hearted

old Pennsylvania German, and he took me in and placed me

on a straw bed in the corner of the room. The two men

having heard that you were killed dodged into the cellar and

remained there all night. On the morning of the 4th, Gen-

eral Buford’s Cavalry came in pursuit of the Confederate

forces and his chief surgeon caused me to be taken into the

city where I received the best of care in a private house for

three months before I could be removed to my home. * *

(Here followed an account of his subsequent military ser-

vices, promotion to Brigadier-General and election to Con-

gress in 1868.)

I have told the story of the spurs and your kindness until
it has become a “campfire story’ all over the State, and told
it as I relate it to you; and I wish there were more frequently
such interchange of friendly greetings between ex-Confeder-
ate and Union soldiers as this between you and me.

I was born in Fayetteville, N. C., 3 January, 1828. When
I was ten years old my father removed to Benton county, Ten-
nessee, and in 1840 to Lancaster, Grant county, Wisconsin,
while it was a Territory. After I was of age I was actively
engaged in business pursuits until 1861, when the call to
arms was sounded in tones of thunder from the mouth of the
first gun that was fired on the proud emblem of our nation-
ality, then floating over the walls of Fort Sumter. I then
conceived it to be not only my privilege, but my patriotic
duty to abandon my business, my home and my family for a
time and go to battle for the Nation’s safety. My father,
whose memory I revere, viewing the situation from a South-
ern standpoint, but at the same time being honest in his con-
victions, advised otherwise, saying that I was going to war