The recollections of a drummer-boy (1889) (14576119820)

Identifier: recollectionsofd00kieff (find matches)
Title: The recollections of a drummer-boy
Year: 1889 (1880s)
Authors: Kieffer, Henry Martyn, 1845-1930
Subjects: United States. Army. Pennsylvania Infantry Regiment, 150th (1862-1865) United States -- History Civil War, 1861-1865 Personal narratives United States -- History Civil War, 1861-1865 Regimental histories
Publisher: Boston, Ticknor and Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation



Text Appearing Before Image:
ay another, his agonies now oyer; here, two men, one,with his arm in a sling, supporting the other, who has turnedhis musket into a crutch; then more ambulances, and more woimdedin increasing numbers; orderlies dashing by at full gallop, while thethunder of the guns grows louder and closer as we step on the pon-toons, and so cross the gleaming river. Colonel, your men. haye had a hard days march; you will nowlet them rest for the night. It is a staff ofiicer whom I hear deliyering this order to ourcolonel, and a sweeter message I think I neyer heard. We cast wistfuleyes at the half-extinguished camp-fires of some regiment that has beenmaking coffee by the roadside, and has just moyed off, and we thinkthem a godsend, as the order is given to Stack arms ! But beforewe have time even to unsling knapsacks, the order comes, • Fall in ! and away we go again, steadily plodding on through that seeminglyendless forest of scrub pine and oak, straight in the direction of thebooming guns ahead.
Text Appearing After Image:
A tiUilUEUN WillTlNU UPON THE POMMEL OF HIS SADDLE AN ORDEU FOR AN AMBULANCE. IN THE WOODS AT CJiANCELLORSVILLE. 97 Why whippoorwills were made I do not know — doubtless for somewise purpose; but never before that night did I know they had beenmade in such countless numbers. Every tree and bush was full ofthem, it seemed. There were thousands of them, there were tens ofthousands of them, there were millions of them! and every onewhistling, as fast as it could, Who-hoo-hoo ! who-hoo-hoo ! wlio-hoo-hoo! Had they been vultures or turkey-buzzards, — vast flocks ofwhich followed the army wherever we went, almost darkening the skyat times, and always suggesting unpleasant reflections, — they couldcould not have appeared more execrable to me. Many were theimprecations hurled at them as we plodded on under the light of thegreat red moon, now above the tree tops, while still from every bushcame that monotonous half screech, half groan, Who-hoo-hoo!Who-hoo-hoo! But, oh, miserable birds of