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leaving the field, and bore off as a trophy of battle.
Several came in in shirt-sleeves, for the day being a warm one, they had taken off their blouses, which when they left they did not stop to don.1
Of our three other caissons, one was exploded by a Rebel shell, a second had its wheels shattered by the same means, and the third had lost all its horses, when the fourth pulled out and escaped at a gallop.
On our way from the field we passed reinforcements from the Ninth Corps, which had arrived too late to be of service, for reasons that will appear in a very full synopsis of Gen. Hancock's report hereinafter.
We camped within our lines, near the Williams House, that night, and in the morning followed that lone caisson into camp, a sorrowful procession indeed; and a sad tale we had to tell the thirty odd men whom we here rejoined.
On counting up our losses in killed, wounded and missing, we found they amounted to twenty-nine out of nearly seventy men that went into the battle.
Of these, twenty were unaccounted for; the fate of the other nine we here present more in detail:
Capt. Sleeper was wounded in the arm, the bullet splintering but not fracturing the bone.
Charles A. Mason, shot in the head, died of his wound on the field where we left him.
George N. Devereux, a driver on the Fourth Detachment caisson, shot through the bowels on the retreat, died two days afterwards in the field hospital.
He was formerly a member of the Fifth Massachusetts Infantry, and participated in the battle of Bull Run.
The Arakelyan press, Boston, 1909.
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