It was
full of dead soldiers.
His regiment was up before day to move at dawn. His company had been
assigned to a regiment of veterans who had fought at Bull Run and had
been in three of the battles before Richmond. Their ranks were thin and
the Western boys were given a royal welcome.
The seasoned men were in good humor, the new company serious. Ned was
carefully shaving by the flickering light of the camp fire.
"What the divil are you doin' that for?" his Irish messmate asked in
amazement.
"You want to know the truth, Haggerty?" Ned drawled.
"That's what I want----"
"We're going into our first battle, aren't we?"
"Praise God, we are!"
"And we may come out a corpse?"
"Yis----"
"I'm going to be a decent one."
"Ah, go'long wid ye--ye bloody young spalpeen--ye're no more afraid than
I am!"
"Maybe not, Haggerty, but it's a solemn occasion, and I'm going to look
my best."
"Ye'll live ter see many a scrap, me bye!"
"Same to you, old man! But I'm going to be clean for this one, anyhow."
The regiment marched toward Malvern Hill at the first streak of dawn. It
was slow work. Always the artillery ahead were sticking in the mud and
the halts were interminable.
The new company grew more and more nervous:
"What's up ahead?"
They asked it at every halt the first three hours.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248