I was put to bed.  There were many beds in the ward.  In the middle of the ward, which was about sixty feet long by thirty wide, was a big stove, red-hot, and around the stove was a circle of people—­women-nurses and stewards, and perhaps some convalescing patients—­singing religious songs.  There was a great open space between the red-hot stove and the people around it.  I wanted to lie in that open space.

I succeeded in getting out of bed; then I crawled on the floor until I was within a few feet of the stove.  The singing stopped.  “You’ll burn to death,” said a woman.  I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep.

For three or four weeks I lay in bed in Camp Winder.  Not an incident occurred.  I received no letters.  I had hoped that some man in the company would write to me.  I heard of nothing but general affairs.  The army had gained a victory over Burnside.  I had known that fact on the night of the 14th.  I knew, also, that General Gregg had been killed.  The papers that I saw gave me some of the details of the battle, but told me nothing of the position of the army, except that it was yet near Fredericksburg.  I did not know where Company H was, and I learned afterward that nobody in Company H knew what had become of me.

The monotony of hospital life became intolerable.  My recovery was slow and my impatience great.  When I felt my strength begin to return, I wrote to Captain Haskell.  No answer came.  Before the end of February I had demanded my papers and had started for the army yet near Fredericksburg.  Transportation by rail was given me to a station called Guiney’s, from which place I had to walk some nine or ten miles.  I found Company H below Fredericksburg and back from the river.  Captain Haskell was not with the company.  He had been ordered on some special duty to South Carolina, and returned to us a week later than my arrival.  Many of the men—­though all of twenty-six men could hardly be said to be many—­had thought that I was dead, as nothing had been heard of me since the battle of Fredericksburg.

When Captain Haskell returned, he showed wonderful cheerfulness for so serious a man.  He was greatly encouraged because General Lee had fought at Fredericksburg a purely defensive battle—­behind breastworks—­and had lost but few men.  The worst loss in the whole army had been caused by a mistake of our own officers, who refused to allow their men to fire upon a line of Yankees until almost too late, believing them to be Confederates.  It was through this error that General Gregg, for whom the camp of the army was named, had lost his life.

Company H was in small huts made of poles and roofed variously—­some with cloth or canvas, others with slabs or boards rudely riven from the forest trees.  We had camp guard to mount and picket duty occasionally.

The remainder of the winter passed without events of great importance.  Adjutant Haskell had learned that no man missing from the Fourth South Carolina, which had suffered such losses that it had been reorganized as a battalion, fitted with my description or with either of my names.  I spent much time in reading the books which passed from man to man in the company.