XXII

COMPANY H

                              “In strange eyes
     Have made me not a stranger; to the mind
     Which is itself, no changes bring surprise;
     Nor is it hard to make, nor hard to find
     A country with—­ay, or without mankind.”—­BYRON.

In the afternoon of the day in which occurred the conversation recounted above, I was advised by the doctor to take a short walk.

From a hill just in rear of the hospital tents I could see northward and toward the east long lines of earthworks with tents and cannon, and rows of stacked muskets and all the appliances of war.  The sight was new and strange.  I had never before seen at one time more than a battalion of soldiers; now here was an army into which I had been suddenly thrust as a part of it, without experience of any sort and without knowledge of anybody in it except two or three persons whom, three days before, I had never heard of.  The worthiness of the cause for which this great army had been created to fight, was not entirely clear to me; it is true that I appreciated the fact that in former days, before my misfortune had deprived me of data upon which to reason, I had decided my duty as to that cause; yet it now appealed to me so little, that I was conscious of struggling to rise above indifference.  I reproached myself for lack of patriotism.  I had read the morning’s Dispatch and had been shocked at the relation of some harrowing details of pillage and barbarity on the part of the Yankees; yet I felt nothing of individual anger against the wretches when I condemned such conduct, and my judgment told me that my passionless indignation ought to be hot.  But this peculiarity seemed so unimportant in comparison with the greater one which marked me, that it gave me no concern.

In an open space near by, many soldiers were drilling.  The drum and the fife could be heard in all directions.  Wagons were coming and going.  A line of unarmed men, a thousand, I guessed, marched by, going somewhere.  They had no uniform; I supposed they were recruits.  A group of mounted men attracted me; I had little doubt that here was some general with his staff.  Flags were everywhere—­red flags, with diagonal crosses marked by stars.

A man came toward me.  His clothing was somewhat like my own.  I started to go away, but he spoke up, “Hold on, my friend!”

He was of low stature,—­a thick-set man, brown bearded.

When he was nearer, he asked, “Do you know where Gregg’s brigade is?”

“No; I do not,” said I; “but you can find out down there at the hospital tents, I suppose.”

“I was told that the brigade is on the line somewhere about here,” said he.

“I will go with you to the tent,” said I.

“I belong to the First,” he said, “I’ve been absent for some days on duty, and am just getting back to my company.  Who is in charge of the hospital?”