File:Battle field and prison pen, or Through the war, and thrice a prisoner in rebel dungeons (1882) (14576119880).jpg

Identifier: battlefieldpriso00urba (find matches)
Title: Battle field and prison pen, or Through the war, and thrice a prisoner in rebel dungeons
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors: Urban, John W
Subjects: United States -- History Civil War, 1861-1865 Personal narratives United States -- History Civil War, 1861-1865 Prisoners and prisons
Publisher: (Philadelphia, Hubbard Brothers) Edgewood Pub. Co
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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the rear. In the excitement of themoment I strayed to the left, instead of goingdirectly to the rear; and as it was some timebefore I got to an hospital, and the ball had openeda vein in my arm, I felt weak and sick from theloss of blood. My arm, however, was soondressed, and the flow of blood stopped, when Ithrew myself on the ground for a rest. I hadhardly more than done so, when the color-bearerof our regiment, William Lafferty, who waswounded in both arms, and also slightly in theside, came to me and said, Urban, let us get outof this. I do not believe that it will be safe forus to stay here. To my question as to whatmade him think so, he replied, Well, I wouldntbe.surprised if this hospital is in the hands of theenemy before to-morrow morning. I told himI did not think so; as we had now reached theJames river, and did not think there would be anyfarther retreating; and even if the army didretreat down the river, we would no doubt beinformed of it, so as to give us a chance to es-
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AMONG THE WOUNDED. 163 cape. Lafferty, did not, however, appear to thinkso, and he left, and it was not long before Iwished I had followed his example. I did not getto see him again, and what became of him hasalways remained a mystery, as no one heard ofhim afterwards. The cries and eroans of the wounded were soterrible that I could not sleep, so I moved away ashort distance from the house, where I could nothear them so plainly, but still I could get no rest. On Friday before, at the battle of Gaines Mill,I had given myself a severe wound in my handwith the bayonet while in the act of loading. Mygun having become heated from the rapid firing,the ball I was trying to ram down stuck abouthalf way, and it was some time before I couldmove it. Becoming excited in my efforts to ramit down, I finally, in ramming, bent the ramrod, andthe bayonet catching my thumb, tore it openalmost the full length, and to the bone. In thelast fighting I lost the bandage, and in loading,powder and sweat would

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